Duluth Catholic Worker Community Explores Direct Aid Connection to Gaza
Hildegard House Catholic Worker (Duluth, Minnesota) has taken up Garry Jones’ invitation to provide direct support for Palestinians living in Gaza.
As conditions in Gaza continue to deteriorate, the Hildegard House Catholic Worker community in Duluth, Minnesota, is working to establish direct support for Palestinians through a newly emerging mutual aid network that bypasses traditional humanitarian channels.
Michele Naar-Obed of Hildegard House describes the initiative not as charity, but as relationship-building that enables direct communication and support between communities.
“What’s so appealing to me, and I’m hoping will appeal to others, is that this is not like writing a check and giving it to some kind of aid group,” Naar-Obed said, noting that Israel has been holding up aid destined for Gaza. “This is a direct connection, very much in keeping with the Catholic Worker (tradition).”
The Duluth community’s efforts are part of a broader initiative proposed by Garry Jones, an Irish musician and composer, and his wife, artist and writer Kate Hennessy, and Vermont videographer Michael Hanish. The three have established a connection with Yusuf, a Palestinian poet and journalist based in northern Gaza. Yusef leads a team of young Gazans providing critical aid to their community, including building toilets for homeless residents and organizing activities to bring hope to children affected by the conflict. (See an essay written by Yusef below.)
Naar-Obed sees the direct support model as aligned with Catholic Worker principles and the deeper teachings of the Beatitudes and Works of Mercy. “We’re not trying to save them any more than we can actually stop the bombs from falling,” she said. “This is very much a mutual aid kind of activity or action and not a charity and not a savior.”
While still in its early stages, Hildegard House is exploring partnerships with local Palestine solidarity groups, including student activists and organizations that have been organizing rallies and demonstrations. These connections could help build broader community support for the direct aid initiative.
Jones has established a crowdfunding page on iDonate to support Yusef’s community work, using what he describes as “an improvised digital pipeline” to transfer funds. His vision extends beyond immediate aid to fostering lasting relationships between western communities and specific neighborhoods in Gaza, similar to sister-city programs.
Those interested in establishing similar support networks can contact Jones at garryjones365@hotmail.com.
Cover photo: Yusef and his father.
The following essay is by Yusef:
Everything around me makes me feel sad
by Yusef
Once a vibrant neighbourhood is now mounds of debris.
Previously, as lowly Palestinians living in Gaza, we were surrounded by lovely gardens where we could breathe clean air and enjoy the sounds of songbirds that lifted our spirits and sent us into a state of bliss. Staring up at the vast blue void, we were filled with a boundless sense of optimism. We were engulfed in a symphony of odours, the rich perfume of flowering trees. Our hearts are warmed by a soft comfort that whispers secrets of peace and love, and the air enveloped us with the sweetness and cuteness of my people.
However, since Israel started its unrelenting assault in Gaza last October, the occupying troops have wreaked unspeakable havoc. Homes, apartments, establishments, parks, marketplaces, farms, schools, mosques, colleges, and every other lovely and useful feature of this thriving metropolis have all been destroyed by them. In my neighbourhood, destruction and ruins greet my eyes at every turn, as if the entire world has been upended by an earthquake.
Under normal circumstances, strolling down these streets may offer a brief reprieve, an opportunity to elevate our emotions and elevate our states of mind. Yet even this little reprieve is thwarted by the Israeli occupation troops, who are causing chaos and destroying everything lovely. My own house was completely destroyed by the IOF, and I can still clearly recall how shocked I was to see it as I approached it. A sharp sadness engulfed my spirit, and I felt as if I had fallen into hell at that very instant. I would have preferred to die than to live such a deeply depressing life because of the agonising agony.
Yet here I am, living in what feels like the Stone Ages, as my city lies in ruins—a mound of debris. It saddens me to say that my once vibrant and beautiful neighbourhood has transformed into a ghostly, uninhabitable place, resembling a graveyard.
Nothing around me impresses me.
I’m not pleased with anything here. Not the land full of debris mounds holding the remains of the dead, nor the sky shrouded with death machines. I am not pleased with the air that is heavy with the aroma of explosives and victims’ blood. I am not pleased with the uprooted and ripped trees. Neither the hot drink nor the blood-stained meal appeal to me. This place is depressing in every way. I find it upsetting to see moms saying goodbye to their kids at cemeteries and hospitals on a regular basis. I don’t like the morning news. It bothers me that the parks and gardens have been ruined. It bothers me that houses and structures have been razed. I detest the dejected expressions on the cheeks of those who pass by me. I find it offensive when atrocities of innocent people are carried out. I find it offensive when adults and toddlers cry out in agony. I find it offensive to see boys and girls who have had their bodies disfigured. I don’t like that there are lines for water and bread. I don’t like how hungry and thirsty I feel. I dislike the oppressive and depressing sense of loss and grief for the dead. This place begs for despair in every way.
Everything aches my heart.
I’m writing these heartbreaking words as a part of putting my feelings and emotions into words since I can no longer take that to heart. Dear world, dear reader, know that this way of living is something too much for us to handle or bear! It’s really harsh to live under such catastrophic situations. Even when I get out of my sister’s house (my current shelter), everything around me makes me feel depressed, starting with viewing the graveyard that existed before my sister’s house was bulldozed by IOF, going to see the massive destruction for the breathtaking view of the gardens that were surrounded by my sister’s house, giving us clear, fresh air (now dried and hot air is being exhaled), and going to the main street to those mounds of debris that make you feel disgusted and become a big hater of this evil entity much more than ever! Now, every time I go to give a flying visit to my neighbourhood, my eyes uncontrollably stream down my cheeks as a result of the heartbreaking destruction left by Israeli occupation forces during the last invasion. It’s the first time for me to really feel like I’m at my lowest, and I’m no longer interested in completing the next chapters of our bleak life. Honestly, I don’t have any desire to live a life without my loved ones and loved places. I do feel incomplete without seeing them around. After the last invasion operation by IOF against my place, everything in my life has changed 100%, even the breath that I used to inhale. Now, it’s different and filled with sorrow and pain. In every corner of my place, there’s a sad story; one can narrate one thousand painful, devastating, and heartbreaking stories that lie buried beneath the rubble of houses. Sitting there will walk you through how many people got killed in cold blood, imagining the huge number of people who were massacred before their relatives and how many people were buried under the rubble, and they weren’t even honoured to get themselves buried, looking at the houses that were forever without owners as IOF transported them into paradise.
Reminiscing bittersweet memories.
After the Israeli occupation forces, the ground invasion operation against the al-Shejaiya neighbourhood came to an end as the army had finally pulled out of the neighbourhood nearly on 11 July 2024. I went directly to see the pile of rubble of my home, as seeing it brought some solace to my heart even though it’s mounds of debris, but to be honest, when I gave it my first glance, tears started to stream down my cheeks, weeping like a little baby. Till now, I’m still wondering why I’m crying like a baby. I’m a man, and I’ve got to be stronger, and indeed I tried to be stronger, but the truth is that I’m so devastated, overwhelmed, and heartbroken with each step I take forwards on the place where I found peace and dignity, in a place where I had grown up with my relatives, friends, neighbours, and everyone I once smiled together. I feel there’s something deep within me that is suffocating me with misery; something is devouring me, tearing me apart, wrecking me, and getting my eyes always wet as I lost even the places that once gathered me with the people I love the most, with the people who once shared with me the most pleasurable times of my life. Recalling my friends, relatives, neighbours, and loved ones while wandering on our breathtaking place, remembering the laughs we laughed together, the unforgettable past we once shared, the palmy days we once had, the smiles we drew on the faces of the passersby when they passed by our place, the pranks we did with the passengers in our childhood, remembering when we were splashing water on the passersby and hiding behind the walls, and the happiness we had by having our loved ones and place by our side. Now, all of these alluring and memorable memories are past—gone forever!
Dear past, dear departed friends, neighbours, relatives, loved ones, our enjoyable moments and loved places, please rest in peace and know that your unforgettable memories will always be imprinted in my heart, hoping to cross paths once again! With teary eyes, I say to you, I miss everything about you like crazy, dear late past, you darling. Rest ease, I promise you all I’ll always bring you into my talk and always remember you in every step I take forward in my life.
Farewell, my beloved neighbourhood, now lost to the ravages of destruction.
Hope Shattered: Gazans Grasp for Life.
I eagerly tuned in, hoping for some glimmer of hope, because in the stark and deliberate absence of negotiations to reach a ceasefire agreement in the besieged Gaza Strip, the USA is giving this apartheid regime system the green light to do whatever it wants and to continue wreaking havoc not only in Gaza but in the entire Middle East. Unfortunately, the news usually turned out to be another heartbreaking letdown, putting out the last glimmer of hope in me. A year has passed since the start of my people’s unending cycle of hopelessness in Gaza. Gazans are tired and bruised and make an effort to remain strong, but every day hope becomes more elusive. They’re stuck in this hellish circle of pain and have given up on life, so they’re thinking of suicide as a way out of this endless holocaust. Let us acknowledge this awful reality: the world has tacitly condoned the murder of Palestinians. It looks the other way as heinous crimes are committed in front of it, watching helplessly as innocent lives are ruthlessly taken. Gazans’ hope for a society where dignity prevails and ceasefire accords are respected has been undermined by the international community’s refusal to hold these war criminals, who resemble Nazis, responsible for their crimes.
