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The Long Loneliness
By friar Vincent Petersen, OFM Conv.

To champion the cause of justice and peace is to accept a risk the prophets knew well: to be dismissed, avoided, and misunderstood. When one speaks on behalf of the marginalized, the poor, and the disenfranchised, the cost can include loneliness. Servant of God Dorothy Day writes in The Long Loneliness: “We have all known the long loneliness, and we have learned that the only solution is love, and that love comes with community.”
My own loneliness as an activist and artist led me to write about icons of contemporary saints and martyrs. As a social justice activist, Dorothy Day discovered her community in the work of hospitality: providing for the homeless and the jobless through the Catholic Worker Movement. I discovered mine in conversation with her.
To write an icon is not simply to make an image. It is to consent to a long, interior labor—one shaped by fasting and prayer, and by the discipline of form. Icons are described as being “written,” and not “painted,” because in Eastern Christianity icons are considered a form of visual Scripture, theology or prayer rather than “artwork.” My style is not traditional, yet the encounter was unmistakable. Dorothy Day met me heart to heart. She did not flatter the vision; she strengthened it. She both encouraged and challenged me to keep going, to keep telling the truth in color and line, to keep listening for the Gospel’s demand. In her presence, I felt drawn again into Christ’s passion for the poor—and into the stubborn hope of a world freed from war and oppression.
Dorothy Day is a saint and prophet the American Church needs today, though she often chided her admirers for calling her one. She felt it could become a way of dismissing her, and dismissing the demands of the Gospel. She insisted that “the work of justice is normative for the follower of Christ—no one is exempt.” By her words and her example, she taught that doing the works of mercy and practicing charity were not enough. One must also work for social justice, including the transformation of unjust economic systems that keep people in poverty.
As a Catholic laywoman, she lived within the long prophetic tradition of faithful opposition. She challenged Church leaders for lavish living and for failing to condemn nuclear weapons. She was arrested and imprisoned many times for her support of civil rights, for defending the rights of workers to unionize, and for her opposition to war and militarism.
In this image, we see Dorothy serving a “trinity” of homeless people in a Catholic Worker house, while right outside the door a protest march moves down the street. She turns toward us as if repeating the words she once offered a reporter when asked what he could do: “Yes, get busy and clean the toilets.”

Q&A With Sister Charity Nkandu

Sister Charity Lydia Katongo Nkandu, SFMA, is a prominent advocate for human rights and children’s welfare, serving as a representative for Franciscans International at the United Nations. Originally from the Archdiocese of Ndola in Zambia, she celebrated 38 years of religious life in January 2026.

1. Why is it meaningful that there is a unified call coming from the Global South?
It is profoundly meaningful that this call rises with one voice from the Global South, because unity gives soul to our struggle and witness to our hope. For too long, our lands have been plundered, our air and water poisoned, and our people made to suffer for a crisis we did not create. We have contributed the least to climate change, yet we bear its greatest wounds.
When we speak together, we speak not only as nations, but as stewards of creation and guardians of the poor. Our unity is more than a political statement; it is a spiritual act of healing. It proclaims that the same God who entrusted creation to our care still calls us to protect it with courage and love. This shared voice from the Global South is both a cry and a hymn: a cry for justice and repentance, and a hymn of hope that a new relationship with the earth and one another is still possible, one rooted in reverence, equity, and care for our common home.
The Global South stands up to say: We are not victims of history; we are stewards of creation. Our unified voice proclaims that solutions to the climate crisis will not come from those who caused it, but from those who have long lived closest to the earth, who know her rhythms, her pain, and her sacredness. This unity is a sign of hope. It tells the world that the time for pity has passed and the time for partnership, justice, and shared responsibility has come. When the Global South speaks together, we speak not only for ourselves, but for the healing of our common home.

2. What historical and structural injustices underline this call?
There are several injustices that have shaped the present situation. First, for centuries, we have suffered colonial exploitation of our resources, and our people have rarely benefited. Second, investor dominance of foreign companies come in the name of development, but they destroy the land and water and leave communities poorer than before. Third, labor inequity; our young people do the hardest jobs for the lowest pay while the profits flow elsewhere. Fourth, environmental degradation, the extractive industries cause soil erosion, deforestation, and pollution, yet there are no serious efforts to restore Mother Earth. Finally, industrial pollution, those who are poor suffer the most when the water is polluted or the air is unclean, because they have no means to correct the damage. All these are expressions of financial and ecological injustice that continue to widen the gap between the Global North and the Global South.

3. How does this connect to climate justice today?
Climate justice is not only about reducing emissions, but also about righting the wrongs of history. Those who have caused the crisis must take greater responsibility. The Global North must support the Global South in building resilience and sustainable livelihoods.
The imbalance between us is moral as well as financial. The Global North must hear our cry, not as a plea for charity, but as a call for justice and solidarity. We all live on the same planet, and when one part of the body suffers, the whole body suffers.
As a Franciscan Sister, I believe that the cry of the earth and the cry of the poor are one. St. Francis of Assisi taught us that creation is our brother and sister: Brother Sun, Sister Water, Sister Mother Earth. When the earth is wounded, we too are wounded.
In Zambia and across the Global South, we see how climate change affects the poorest first: the small farmer, the mother who walks long distances for water, the child who cannot go to school because of drought or floods. This is why I feel so strongly that our voices must be heard.
Our call is not against anyone; it is for everyone. It is a call for conversion of heart, for shared responsibility, and for love that restores creation. That, for me, is what true climate justice looks like.