March 13, 1959 – October 27, 2025
 The Interfaith and the unhoused communities in Santa Fe lost a dear friend with the recent passing of Chaplain Joe Dudziak. Chaplain Joe was the founder of Chaplain Joe’s Street Outreach, but for those of us at Pete's Place, he was also a constant presence for over a dozen years of service. Joe volunteered both day and night, reminding other volunteers of the reasons for their presence in the shelter – to offer compassion, consistency and community to the individuals we served.
Joe was a complex guy – a man of deep faith and a crazy sense of humor. He was an advocate for the unhoused and taught his many friends to show compassion and friendship to the most vulnerable in our midst. The following tributes were written by a few of the folks who worked beside him and benefited from his friendship, his passion for the work and his immense humor and joy.
KenI volunteered at morning registration on Tuesdays for many years. For the last two years or so, I worked with Joe at the front desk, greeting the guests as they came in. This period turned out to be the most rewarding of those years because I was working alongside Joe. He always greeted me with a smile and a joke. He always put the guests first, tried to  help them in whatever way he could. He never judged anyone. I was amazed at what he did for the homeless through his outreach; how he went about fundraising to buy the sleeping bags and tents and other assorted sundries he gave away to the most vulnerable in our community. He did all this despite having a terminal illness which he mentioned very little. He had more important things to worry about.
MarisolJoe was known for his off-colored jokes, his huge heart and his saggy pants. Like the rest of us, Joe experienced internal conflict, though he channeled his struggles through his service to others. Joe experienced housing instability as a child and wholeheartedly understood that the only difference between himself and the folks he served was his home. He loved his family deeply, in particular his son, though he struggled with how best to communicate his love to his  immediate family. So he created family-like relationships with the unhoused community in Santa Fe.
Joe’s favorite book was The Afterlife of Billy Fingers, a book that illustrates while people may experience a difficult life on Earth, we have infinite possibilities for finding peace and understanding once we return to the spirit world. I have no doubt that Joe’s spirit remains with us as a guide and protector of our most vulnerable community members. May we live through his example of compassion, collaboration and service to ourselves and others.
WendyThe regular volunteers at Pete’s had a routine of walking into where Joe was greeting guests on service days and saying “pull your pants up, Joe!” He would always just laugh and make a joke. He came inside after having delivered a granola bar to everyone outside, and he brought us laughter and joy. The deep concern for and kindness to our guests was the best training any new volunteers could receive.
 Joe was always a joker. One of his faves was "I want to pass away in my sleep like my grandfather did. Not screaming like all the other people in his car did!" But Joe also was quite serious about meeting the needs of the unhoused and drumming up support for that mission. He became a local celebrity, and while he didn’t like the attention at first, he once told me he "could get used to it, especially since it was helping bring attention to the needs of the unsheltered.”
BudEach resource day at the Shelter, Joe came armed with his endless clean and corny "indoor jokes” and his outdoor jokes for the select few (he even warned us of garage jokes), but you couldn't help but enjoy any joke with Joe. Nor could you stop making fun of his low-riding jeans that never quite covered enough of him, but you could always count on his kindness and warmth and his sincere dedication and unwavering sense of purpose, especially these last years as he powered through all the intense physical pain till the blessed end.
NatashaI first met Joe in 2017, during a chapter of my life that would forever shape how I view service and community. I had recently attended an education session on Community Benefit Funding. The session sparked something in me, a desire to do more, to give back in a meaningful way. A few Mondays later, I found myself walking through the doors of the Interfaith Community Shelter, ready to learn and serve.
At first, I sat quietly at a table in the back, observing the rhythm of the night. Volunteers moved with purpose, guests found comfort in familiar faces, and the atmosphere was filled with a sense of belonging. Then, a gentleman doing door check approached me with a warm smile and introduced himself: “I’m Joe Dudziak.” I replied, “I’m Natasha Katko,” and instantly, his expression lit up.
 “You’re not a Katko from Los Alamos, are you?” he asked. When I confirmed that my father-in-law was Matthew Katko, Joe’s face broke into a grin as he launched into stories from years past, tales of childhood mischief, construction site chaos, and even a near fistfight with Matthew that ended in reconciliation and respect. His stories were vivid, full of humor and humility, and they revealed a man deeply connected to his roots. In that moment, Joe and I shared an unexpected bond, one that would grow stronger over the years.
Joe and I volunteered side by side from that Monday on for several years. When life eventually pulled him away from regular service, he entrusted me with his Monday night team, a gesture that filled me with honor and responsibility. Joe had a gift of leadership, not through authority, but through kindness and understanding. He had a way of lightening the mood, often starting the night with a joke: “What do you call a cow with no legs? Ground beef.” It was classic Joe, humor with a hint of wisdom, reminding us to stay grounded.
Joe also believed in the power of intention and mindfulness. He held a circle of volunteers before each evening shift. He would ask us to plant our feet firmly on the ground, breathe deeply, and remember why we were there. His words were simple yet profound: “See our brothers and sisters for who they are. Don’t judge them by their circumstances.” He reminded us that many of the guests we served were often overlooked or dismissed outside the shelter’s doors. Inside ICS, they deserved dignity, respect, and compassion. This was their safe space, their community.
Joe’s legacy lives on in every act of kindness, every moment of mindfulness, and every effort to create a space where all are welcome. He reminded us that community is built not by grand gestures, but by small, intentional acts of love. And for that, I will always carry his spirit with me.
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Chaplain Joe’s Street Outreach team will continue the work that Joe started. He will be remembered for the bell he would ring to let unsheltered people know he was approaching an encampment and with every sandwich, warm coat or sleeping bag that his successors hand out on cold winter days and nights.
Go in Peace, Joe. Vaya con Dios.
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