Two days ago, alongside President Trump’s announcement to federalize law enforcement in Washington, D.C., which could include dismantling homeless encampments, I tweeted “streets are thoroughfares, not beds.” In my follow-up on this site, I also identified the local Catholic Church as a possible critic, especially if “law enforcement includes cleaning up homeless encampments around the city as a different approach to that problem” (see here). Within minutes of that tweet, someone responded with a question: “Catholic theologian!?”

Yes, I am — a Catholic theologian who is deeply concerned about how the Church addresses poverty and public order.

There is a troubling trend in some circles to wear the slogan “the poor Church for the poor” as a badge of honor. But what good is a “poor Church” that cannot act institutionally on its own behalf or those it serves? Consider that the U.S. Catholic bishops actually sued the Trump Administration over withheld refugee and immigrant funding — funds they viewed as reimbursement for existing commitments. Now, forced to pull back from much of that work, they reveal the reality: dependence on government dollars undermines true charity. They had to pull out of their “charitable work” because they were broke.

Catholic social teaching, from Rerum Novarum to Caritas in Veritate, insists on the dignity of every human person and the primacy of the common good. This includes solidarity with those suffering. Yet solidarity does not mean tolerating social disorder or abandoning public responsibilities. Streets are meant for travel and commerce, not for setting up tents and sleeping rough.

“Who am I to judge?” some might ask. Well, you might be a public official charged with public safety and public resources, including public money. Don’t let false virtue signaling decorated with a Biblical verse convince you otherwise.

Homelessness is a grave social problem, exacerbated by economic hardship and public policy failures. It is compounded by a piecemeal policy approach that, based on the trend of the day, accentuates one factor while letting others drop. But homelessness cannot be solved by simply allowing the streets to become shelters. As New York City’s experience in the 1980s and 90s showed, tolerating “rough sleeping” in transit hubs like the Port Authority Bus Terminal only worsened the problem, driving away commuters and eroding public safety. To discourage it, authorities replaced benches with “medieval misericords” — tiny swinging seats attached to hinges. They originally appeared in monks’ choir stalls. As long as one’s legs were bearing down against the floor, one could rest on the seat. But woe to the friar who fell asleep: As soon as his knees relaxed, he was deposited with a loud thud on the floor. That Port Authority adapted the concept was a bizarre “compromise” — real commuters, for whom a bus terminal exists, lost their seats (and had to continue navigating the facility through its new denizens) while the homeless at best had a momentary respite.

When Mayor Giuliani took office, warehousing the homeless there ended because he recognized basic truths: if you tolerate fare evasion and disorder, worse crimes follow; neighborhoods decline starting with  “broken windows”; public spaces must serve their intended purpose. Streets are thoroughfares, not beds.

A personal anecdote: I worked in the main building of the State Department for six years, which involved a daily commute into Washington, ending with a five block walk down 23rd Street NW to Main State. For at least three of those years, it involved me passing through somebody’s bedroom. How else to describe the encampment on the 23rd Street sidewalk on the overpass over Virginia Avenue? The man had a tent. He also had chalk where he inscribed rows of gibberish on the sidewalk, probably reflections of his conversations with himself. There were usually some rocks around, paper and trash, as well as food bags some left. Was his situation pitiable? Yes. But does that mean we all had to walk through it? That the rest of society must live with those conditions? No. That scene is replicated all over the Foggy Bottom area, with plenty of tents along Virginia Avenue around the State Department stretching all the way towards the Office of Personnel Management and the Interior Department.

We do no one a favor by tolerating — and should recognize there is no “right” to — “rough sleeping.” Streets and parks are not flophouses.

Some church voices will lament Trump’s efforts, waving the banner of “social justice” and quoting Scripture out of context. But social justice is not about endless handouts or sanctioning disorder. It is about fostering a society where every person can live with dignity, responsibility, and safety.

That means recognizing difficult realities:

• The path out of homelessness is arduous and complicated by mental illness, addiction, and sometimes criminality.
• Personal responsibility plays a role; even if diminished in particular circumstances, it cannot and should not a priori be erased.
• Public officials have a fiduciary duty to ensure safety and order for all citizens, including those who work, shop, and raise families in America’s cities.

The Church must do more than call for endless funds from the state or tolerate dysfunction. True charity requires resources and resolve to restore dignity through stable housing, mental health care, and employment — not enabling squalor in public spaces. It is not resolved by houses without personal conversion.

This is not “anti-poor”; it is pro-human dignity. Streets must be reclaimed as public goods, places of commerce and community, not refuges for squalor. The Church should lead by example, funding and administering real works of mercy independently, embodying subsidiarity and solidarity together.

The Gospel calls us to love the poor, but it also calls us to truth and order. Let us reject the false mercy that tolerates disorder and instead build a society where all can flourish. That may require a different approach to the homelessness problem.