Will her day come?

It is a traditional "tumble-down shack," scheduled to be bulldozed to make way for a development of 40 luxury homes, and described by the developer as "classy." Hardly anything new about that. But the New York Times, among others, paid attention, devoting several columns of type and a photograph to the subject.

This "humble cottage," the Times reported, is where Dorothy Day, the charismatic co-founder of the Catholic Worker movement, spent the last ten years of her life. Ironically, the Times reported, "Seventeen years after her death, Dorothy Day, the pacifist who fought for the poor, is involved in another stand against the rich." Some of her followers have been trying to block the demolition of her house and continue to espouse her philosophy that not just the wealthy have a right to retreat to the beaches. A simplification, of course, of a philosophy that moved so many over the years and, in fact, continues to inspire.

It may be just as well that the cottage "decorated with Dorothy's aquamarine-and-orange print curtains and a pink outhouse light" is endangered, because 1997 is the 100th anniversary of her birth, and she is much too important a personage in the United States and Catholic life to be allowed to fade away.

Jesuit Father Thomas J. Reese, in a masterful John Courtney Murray address (published in America, June 21,1997), interestingly coupled Dorothy Day with the late Mother Teresa: "Instead of trying to reform the church ad intra, they just went out and did what had to be done ad extra; they fed the hungry, cared for the sick, clothed the naked, and, in the case of Dorothy Day, agitated for political and economic reform.

"While others worried about church politics, church structures, and church documents," Reese wrote, "these two women and millions of other Catholics simply lived the gospel by working or volunteering for programs aimed at helping the poor and making the world a better place. They witnessed to the gospel in the world with their time, energy, and money. Their witness is so loud and so clear that they remind the rest of us of what really matters. Such a witness is powerful and compelling."

In something of an aside, Reese added: "It is said that officials of the New York archdiocesan chancery never wanted to get into a conflict with Dorothy Day because they did not want to go down in history for persecuting a saint."

That Dorothy Day and Mother Teresa can be called saints can hardly be denied. If Las Vegas bookmakers were into this kind of thing, they would give very low odds that the sanctity and works of the Albanian nun will now be recognized officially by the church--a very short time after her death.

Canonization by acclamation is a possibility. However, similar recognition of Dorothy (as her devoted followers call her) is likely to be a long time coming, if it comes at all.

Dorothy herself, when asked if she would like to be declared a saint after her death, responded wryly that she would not want to be dismissed so easily. But some (but by no means all) of her followers believe that she should be canonized if only to celebrate the kind of extraordinary witness of which Reese spoke.

Would not advancing the cause of canonization for Dorothy Day also lead to the documentation of the many sanctified moments in her life and her many selfless acts that helped countless of the less fortunate?

I was told, by a witness of a frigid night in New York, that when a prostitute was found collapsed outside the Catholic Worker house not only did Dorothy do what many other good folk might have done--bring the woman, ravaged by disease, into the house--but she also gave up her own bed and slept on the drafty floor.

I recall in Dorothy an example of the "little way" so associated with Saint Therese of the Infant Jesus. When U.S. Catholic instituted its annual award for furthering the cause of women in the church, I called Dorothy Day and explained that we wished her to be the first recipient of the award. Softly she replied, "Oh, I don't think so. But thank you anyway."

In the future, will Catholic children and young people be told of Dorothy's heroism in the face of cruel challenges, and of her dedication to a preferential option for the poor? Will they learn of her going to jail willingly to protest wars and other violence? Will their teachers or books recount the ascetic life she led, a life that inspired so many to reform their own lives? And will homilists on altars and in pulpits preach joyfully about her on the feast of Saint Dorothy Day?

That is a consummation devoutly to be wished.