Author and bookstore owner Ann Pachett calls Father Charlie Strobel’s memoir The Kingdom of the Poor “a manual for decency and kindness.” There are no formulas or easy three-step processes in this book, but it is such a manual if you pay attention to how and why it was written.
Memoir can be a fraught, self-centered genre, but Father Strobel, founder of the Nashville-based nonprofit Room In The Inn, manages to focus the attention on others. Each of the book’s 30 chapters highlights someone or a group of people who contributed to his remarkable life and the massive positive impact of Room In The Inn’s work with people who are unhoused.
As the editors, Charlie’s niece (Katie) and a long-term Room In the Inn Volunteer (Amy), tell us at the beginning of the book, Father Strobel long resisted writing a book about his life. He seems to be one of those remarkably accomplished people who managed to stay humble despite all the praise aimed his way. Ann Pachett contributed that Charlie only consented to writing this book when his Parkinson’s and diabetes made it so “the only gift he had left to give were his words.” He “gave [these words] freely, with enormous love.” Further, the Room In The Inn’s website makes clear that all the royalties will be paid to the nonprofit.
The book opens with the Beatitudes from the Gospel of Matthew, and includes Charlie’s own “Beatitude Moments” throughout. Charlie writes that “Before I even knew what the Beatitudes were, I experienced them as a small child who lived among the poor and the meek. Let me tell you about them. Let me tell you as well about how I came to understand the Beatitudes as a framework for living. Let me tell you why the Beatitudes continue to live in our midst. And let me tell you about the people who gave me a passion for loving the poor in body and spirit. We are all poor and we are all worthy of love.”
That last sentence seems especially important. Charlie never gives off an air of superiority; he seemed to see the people he and his organization served as friends and as important contributors to their life together. He believed that we should all recognize our poverty, of one sort or another, and that “our real enemy is denying our shared poverty, which leads to a lack of understanding of and empathy for one another.”
After Charlie's mother was murdered in 1987, the Strobel family released a statement that said “Perhaps it is the irony of God that a woman who abhorred violence died so violently, that a woman who gave so much to the needy lost her life in the act of serving them.” His mother’s murderer killed five other innocent individuals and the Nashville D.A. signaled that he intended the death penalty. Despite tremendous grief, Charlie and his family publicly expressed opposition to the death penalty and wrote “The cruelty of her death, as devastating as it is, does not diminish our belief that God’s forgiveness and love, as our mother showed us, is the only response to the violence we know. If this suspect is guilty as alleged, it is clear to us that he is deeply troubled and needs all the compassion that our society and its institutions can offer.”
Charlie went on to devote the next 36 years of his life to meeting the most basic material needs of people in Nashville, but he does not dwell on his heroism, but rather states that “the homeless saved my life. As I have recounted many times, I was curled up in the fetal position after Mama died. And I heard metaphorically, their voices saying, “Get up. Open the gate.” I didn’t want to. I was destroyed. But I got up. I opened the gate. The city of Nashville got up with me.”
Charlie supposedly asked nearly everyone he met “Do you know how good you are? … I want you to know how good you are.” He also reminded us that “We’re on this earth to get ready to die.” As morbid as that seems, he focused people on moving toward the selfless love of God and others. As poet Hayden Carruth wrote: “Yet not only our lives drift down. The stuff/ of ego with which we began, the mass/ in the upper chamber, filters away/ as love accumulates below. Now/ I am almost entirely love.” Charlie died on August 6, 2023, having embodied self-giving love in a truly remarkable way.
In the Epilogue, Charlie reiterates that “We are all poor and we are all worthy of love.” He urges us to carry on beyond him, in and through this world where “both grace and tragedy coexist." He notes that a “divine discontent” should compel us toward “a world without war, a nation without poverty, a city without homelessness, a family without abuse, children without empty stomachs, and an economic system without greed.” He reminds us that people are not our “problem to solve but [our sibling] to love.” Charlie is not naïve; he notes the seemingly insurmountable obstacles and feelings of impotence, but also points to the “joy in taking up a small part of someone else’s burden, the part you can manage…You will be strengthened by it and in turn you will know that someone else will not be crushed by what they cannot manage alone. This balance between people is the essence of love and joy.”