If “Property is Theft,” What Then of Desire?

By Robert P. Russo

Lord, grant me the grace

to desire only what I need,

and to need only what you will for me.

All else is but “tinsel and dross.”

If “property is theft,” what then of desire?  In November of 1970, Dorothy Day was commissioned by an editor from New World Outlook to write an article concerning the wealth of the Church.  In her piece entitled “Property is Theft,” which was published in the March, 1971 issue, Day echoed the thoughts of philosopher-economist Pierre Joseph Proudhon in railing against Church ownership of property, much of which was then vacant.

There are, of course, a great number of empty church properties which ought to be used for the poor.  Convents and rectories could turn their top floors into apartments for dispossessed families.  Our seminaries without aspirants for the priesthood can more easily be turned into ecumenical centers than apartments.

     Day realized the inherent difficulties involved in the divestiture of Church property, citing “[t]he State is too much with us.”  She also recognized the onus of double-taxation, wherein the State would penalize any donation that was not recorded through “authorized, recognized agencies who have tax exempt standing.”  Day further advocated that the Church should sell its assets, and “just give to the poor all this tinsel and dross.”  Although these notions are certainly congruent with those of our current Pope Francis, one has to seriously wonder, if “property is theft,” what then of desire?

     With divestiture of Church assets an unlikely option, Day pointed to three viable world alternatives, wherein the secular and non-secular worked together to effect positive change.  Day looked to the work being done in Canada by Jean Vanier, who turned a vacant convent into a community for the developmentally disabled, where “they can love and be loved.”  Day also greatly esteemed the witness of Mother Teresa, who had “done much more than start homes for people to die in, off the streets of Calcutta.”  Mother Teresa had also begun schools, clinics, hospices, and a village housing lepers.  Finally, Day wrote of the example of the Catholic Worker’s own Peter Maurin, who helped to establish houses of hospitality, where “people could be fed, clothed and sheltered, where mutual aid could be practiced, in every parish, poor and rich.”

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     If “property is theft,” what then of desire?  Over the past few years, I have been fortunate enough to receive five-to-six thousand books—mostly regarding Church History, Religion, and Theology—which were donated to me by the university where I completed a Master’s Degree in Systematic Theology, in 2011.  I housed these books on numerous bookshelves in my small, one-bedroom apartment, which measured roughly 750 square feet.  In fact, my living quarters more resembled a library than an apartment, but I didn’t mind.  I have long had an unquenchable desire for knowledge of my faith, and many of the volumes were used as reference material for the research papers that I have recently written.

     In early January of 2014, with four-foot snow drifts outside my apartment, a level three snow emergency in effect wherein only emergency vehicles could travel on the roads, and no maintenance personnel on staff where I live, a pipe broke in the apartment above me.  Water gushed for over two hours, before it was finally shut off by emergency personnel from the local municipal water division.  During the torrential downpour, I made an urgent appeal to the Lord to save my prized possessions: “Lord, I have been a faithful servant.  Please, do not allow my books to be destroyed.  They are all I own of any real value!” 

     My prayers were soon to be answered, and the books are now all safe and secure in dry boxes, too numerous to count.  Most of my bookshelves had to be thrown away due to the impending dreaded scorn known as mold.  It has been almost a year since my “salvation from the flood,” but due to detachment, and a healthy lack of finances, I have yet to replace the shelves.  I mention this incident because it calls to mind that when we value property to excess, we are really impeding our ability to give in fullness to others.  I know that I must give up my collection, one day, in the near future.  Although my vast desire for knowledge is not wrong in-and-of-itself, my act of hoarding books can be likened to the sin arising from pride of ownership.

     Dorothy Day would have identified with my recent plight.  She concluded her New World Outlook article with an appeal for self-kenosis on behalf of both the secular and religious, realizing that:

My own room is full of books and pictures and I have for my enjoyment and distraction radio and television.  My closet is full of clothes.  I must begin again to strip myself, not only to help the poor, but to put on Christ.

     If “property is theft,” what then of desire?  Perhaps I need to rethink my position on the ownership of too many books.  However, my desire for knowledge is so great, that it replaces a vast emptiness in my life, which sometimes seems like so many discarded and lonely bookshelves.

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“Property is Theft,” by Dorothy Day was originally published in New World Outlook, March 1971, p. 7.  Used by permission, General Board of Global Ministries, The United Methodist Church.