In her thirties, during the Great Depression, Dorothy Day had started something called the Catholic Worker movement, which combined radical politics, direct service, and community living. For nearly half a century, Day had given up her own middle-class privilege to live with those who went without in what was called a Catholic Worker House of Hospitality. The original House of Hospitality was on the Lower East Side of New York City, but it inspired more than a hundred others across the nation.
Like everything else that seemed good, I was convinced that the Catholic Worker movement had faded away in the 1960s."Oh, no," somebody told me when I mad an offhand reference to the Catholic Worker and bemoaned its disappearance. "There are still many, many Catholic Worker houses left. In fact, there is one here in Champaign [Illinois]."
"What's it like?" I asked, shocked.
"Part shelter for poor folks, part anarchist movement for Catholic radicals, part community for anyone who enters. Really, it's about a whole new way of living. You've got to go there to know."
From the moment I entered St. Jude's, it was clear to me that this was different from any other place I'd been. I couldn't figure out whether it was a shelter or a home. There was nobody doing intake. There was no executive director's office. White, black, and brown kids played together in the living room. I smelled food and heard English and Spanish voices coming from the kitchen. The first thing somebody said to me was, "Are you staying for dinner?"
"Yes," I said.
The salad and stew were simple and filling, and the conversation came easy. After dinner, I asked someone, "Who are the staff here? And who are the residents?"
