this morning, i went down to St. Joseph's house, a catholic worker house on the lower east side. catholic worker houses are radical catholic anarchist activist communities.
here's a snippet from their website, www.catholicworker.org:

The Catholic Worker Movement, founded by Dorothy Day and Peter Maurin in 1933, is grounded in a firm belief in the God-given dignity of every human person. Today over 185 Catholic Worker communities remain committed to nonviolence, voluntary poverty, prayer, and hospitality for the homeless, exiled, hungry, and foresaken. Catholic Workers continue to protest injustice, war, racism, and violence of all forms. Catholic Worker communities are independent of each other, and vary in their activities, relationship to the Catholic Church, and how they incorporate Catholic Worker philosophy and tradition.

St. Joseph's house was one of the original catholic worker houses, and has been around for over 50 years. they are a non-profit and exist entirely on donations--they have no independant income source. a mix of white, middle class volunteers and formerly homeless folks live in the building and run the soup kitchen 4 days a week. they also have a clothes closet and other services. i originally found out about st. joe's because i'd visited Little Flower, a rural catholic worker community near twin oaks.

whenever i'm in town i try and spend a few mornings helping out at the soup kitchen. its been nearly four years since i first spent time there; folks are familiar and it feels like home. it feels good to connect with other community-minded folk, give a TO update and catch up on what's going on. it also feels really good and also to give whatever kindness and comfort i can to the "guests" and connect with them (there's no uncheesy way to say this.)

its always kind of hectic there; the air is soaked with the smell of coffee and cigarettes, folks are finding seats and calling for coffee, bread, and the volunteers are running back and forth with bowls of soup and pots of cofee. it's sit down service with about 30 places at the tables. the atmosphere is cozy and homey in a nyc kind of way, and there are lots of regulars. folks often remember me from previous visits and will call me over to ask about virigina, the band, and my current relationship status...the majority are men, mostly a mix of black and hispanic. the women that come are usually extra tough and can hold their own. sometimes altercations become heated, but generally there's a very positive vibe, with lots of joking and jibing going around.

people have unique sensibilities: some people consume massive amounts of sugar and margarine, asking for more soup and more bread. others are very particular, asking for only half a bowl, or only broth. some want white bread, others prefer brown. or rye. i'm not sure how many of these folks are homeless, but they are mostly very clearly down on their luck. however, i'm always impressed at how many of them still hold themselves with a deep sense of dignity and self-respect, making very particular requests. others expound at length on a variety of intellectual and philosophical topics. i've had many proposals of many sorts, its taken me a while but over time i've honed the fine art of deflection. nearly everyone is incredibly sweet and kind, and appreciative of the food and kindness.

today a lady marched in after the line was officially closed, dressed in frilly pink clothes and a very boosting bustier. she had a pink bow in her hair, announced herself as Joan of Arc, and began complaining and demanding things of people: soup, bread, pastries etc., culminating by yelling, "does anybody WORK here??!?" this sort of situation presents an interesting dilemma, and i'm not really sure what is the best way to respond. i try and react kindly and respectfully, but without indulging the unneccesary level of rudeness.