When the Sisters of St. Joseph speak of charism, they mean love that unifies—made real in ordinary encounters, quiet courage, and steadfast hospitality.

Few ministries show that spirit more simply or more powerfully than Peace House, which recently marked 40 years of welcoming neighbors who needed a place not to do, but simply to be.

Peace House grew from the clear-eyed compassion of Rose Tillemans, CSJ. Years earlier, Rose had volunteered at the Free Store, a project seeded by the ever-inventive Rita Steinhagen, CSJ, who excelled at spotting needs and planting ministries. There, Rose noticed something essential: many people came less for goods than for connection. They lingered to talk, to be seen, to belong. From that recognition came a radical idea wrapped in simplicity—create a living room for the city, a space where coffee, conversation, and prayer could knit strangers into community.

Rose’s own journey shaped that vision. She was open about living with mental illness, and many who found their way to Peace House did, too. Because Rose had walked that road, she met people as equals—never with condescension, always with respect. “She had complete ease accepting people as they were,” recalls Mary Ellen Foster, CSJ. There was one firm, clear boundary: no alcohol or drugs on site. Everything else—hours, rhythm, and even house norms—grew from listening together.

The early days were unadorned and human. “We shared a sandwich the first day,” Mary Ellen reflected. “The next time I brought one, and soon others brought food. That’s how lunch began.” A simple prayer circle emerged late morning; a light meal followed. Some came for both; others arrived afterward. Bit by bit, the community shaped itself—writing a few agreements on a wooden board, making decisions by consensus, and discovering how to live the welcome they hoped to offer.

Rose’s faith was as sturdy as it was unpretentious. She loved the Gospel, questioned hierarchy, and believed in the priesthood of all the baptized. She wrote poems—wry, tender, sometimes delightfully subversive—captured in Savoring Grace. She also carried a small bottle of perfumed oil and a prayer for healing and for the dying, quietly visiting hospitals long before Peace House had walls.

When Rose died on July 5, 2002, the community grieved with the same home-made reverence that had filled Peace House from the start. In a scene that lives in holy memory, Rita Steinhagen brought Rose’s casket to Peace House for a final gathering of stories and song; then friends carried the casket on foot to St. Stephen’s for the funeral liturgy—a procession of love that blurred any line between “servers” and “served.”

Peace House has evolved over the years and now offers meals, haircuts, hand massages, bike repair, and other practical helps. Yet at its core, it is still about welcome. As Linda Taylor, CSJ, says, “It was never about fixing people. It was about being with them.”

In this anniversary year, Peace House stands as a quiet, steady witness to the CSJ Charism: love that listens first; presence that honors dignity; community built at the pace of trust. Rose showed that the ministries which change us most are often the simplest—coffee poured, a chair pulled close, a name spoken with care.

This is charism made real. This is Peace House—then and now, and, God willing, long into the future.