Sacred Money, Part IV

This is the fourth of a series of posts about some money that came to me unexpectedly.  I call it sacred money. I am giving away every dollar I was given, and I am carefully choosing the recipients - if possible, telling their story.  You can read my previous posts here:

Sacred Money
Sacred Money, Part II
Sacred Money, Part III


Sunday night, my silent walking buddy, Arnie, led me to an old two story home that looked to be at one time part of a block of row houses.  Now it's only one of two connected houses that are bordered on one side by new and nondescript apartments and on the other by a huge, deep, gaping hole that will soon be a seven story condo/apartment building.  The home that I visited was so close to the hole, I worry that one little earthy tremor could slide it down into that man-made canyon.  But then, I'm not construction-savvy - I hope those guys know what they're doing.

Arnie and I sat in the living room of this home, warmed by a fire in the wood stove, and I listened to Anna, a wonderful woman with short gray hair and a calm, present demeanor - a nun, actually - tell about the Catholic Worker Movement.  I learned quite a few things, and I may share them all sometime, but for now, I will say that it was refreshing to realize that Anna and those in the Catholic Worker Movement live the good stuff of Christianity - the example shown by Jesus' life.

From the Catholic Worker website:

The Catholic Worker Movement is grounded in a firm belief in the God-given dignity of every human person.

Today 227 Catholic Worker communities remain committed to nonviolence, voluntary poverty, prayer, and hospitality for the homeless, exiled, hungry, and foresaken [sic]. Catholic Workers continue to protest injustice, war, racism, and violence of all forms.

At the end of my visit, after learning that this house is home to nine or ten guests who would otherwise have no warm place to sleep and no consistent source of food, I shared with Anna the story about how this money came to be in my hands, and I gave her more than half of what I had been given.  There is no doubt in my mind that the money will be used in a way that will help those who need it.  For thirty-seven years, Anna has lived in this home, housing unimaginable numbers of guests as they find their way to more permanent housing, for many years running a soup kitchen, and always negotiating for those who have the least.

I have been pondering, trying to figure out what exactly has been stirring in me since my visit.  It is something beyond the information about what the Catholic Worker Movement, or even Anna, does.  I am moved by the peacefulness and quiet acceptance that I felt while Anna spoke, Arnie and I listened, others came and went, and Beer, the dog, hunkered down in my lap.  I am used to that in my home where only two people live, but to experience it in a house filled with a dozen people who have no familial connection - other than shared humanity - was sweet.  And I am also left wondering:  How much do I need?  When someone lives with a vow of poverty, not having much to call her own, but still living with the wealth of having all she needs - even enough to help those who have less - it challenges me to look at my life and what I think I want and need.