This article is part of a series diving into Catholic social teaching and how it applies to our everyday lives. For ease of reading, the authors will use first person pronouns describing both their experiences.
When we think about the fundamental elements of Catholic social teaching, the inherent value and dignity of the human person as reflected by God’s Trinitarian love, we must realize that the most obvious way we can see this being, or not being, lived out is by looking at the poor and vulnerable. Pope Francis, echoing many other influential world leaders, said, “The measure of the greatness of a society is found in the way it treats those most in need, those who have nothing apart from their poverty.”
Poverty can take many forms: physical and monetary poverty; vulnerability because of one’s age, ability, race or religion; the poverty of loneliness and isolation; a poverty of spirit coming from not knowing who we are and to whom we belong. Poverty in all its forms makes human beings susceptible to being manipulated, cast aside, ignored, abused and forgotten.
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On a mission trip in Calcutta, my group was returning from our assignment for an afternoon rest when we came across a man, mere skin and bones and hours, maybe minutes, from death, who had been abandoned on the side of the road near the Missionary of Charity convent. This is not an uncommon sight in Calcutta for a number of reasons, and while some tended to the man, others ran to find the sisters so they could take him to their home for the dying. The many facets of this man’s poverty — his sickness, his starvation, his abandonment, his vulnerability — will never escape my mind.
Many think that people experience poverty because of their own personal decisions and choices, but most often it is something they played no part in choosing but must now live in and with. Because of this, it is imperative for the Christian to ask what it is they can do to help alleviate the poverty of the world, the broken systems, loving the soul who lives far off and the soul who lives next door who both face some sort of poverty.
A challenging theme
I struggle with this theme, not because I don’t understand it or agree with it, but because I can feel my own insecurities bubbling to the surface as I write. So many of the other themes I can apply to my family or close friends. I can look with love on the earth and the people I’ve been given to steward and clearly see my next right thing. But this theme, at least for me, pushes me outside the smallness of my own life and forces me to confront the poverty that exists around me; a poverty that I can easily ignore when I become too caught up in the many comforts of my own life.
This theme is overwhelming for me; it is literally “unsolvable” on this side of heaven. And, given the chance you also find it overwhelming, I wonder if we might boil it down to an application that doesn’t just engender a savior complex. Just a friendly reminder, we are not God. Any organization we take part in will not eliminate poverty. We are told, by the Word made flesh, that the poor will always be with us. The point is not to give us the lofty idea that we can eliminate the discomfort of others. We are being asked to willingly walk into that discomfort. To enter into, as our Savior did, the humanity of his people. It’s why we have saints like Mother Teresa of Calcutta, who isn’t remembered for ending poverty in the slums of Calcutta, but meeting people in their poverty and loving them. We admire her because she brought Christ into the dark loneliness of the world. It’s not about solutions, it’s about presence.
Personally, I am being asked to care for the poor and vulnerable as I would for Christ. Which, hopefully, means that I make the time to be with him. That I delight in him. That I enter into relationship with him. That does not mean that I need to “fix” whatever social issue I am most fired up about at the moment. It means that I slowly, intentionally, open myself up to what Christ is asking me to attend to at this precise moment, right where I am. It means that I pray for the grace to say “yes” to whatever it is he might ask of me.
We often want to boil loving the poor down to a universal call for everyone and then, when that call feels too lofty, we give up. The truth is, most of us aren’t going to start a non-profit or a new religious order. We are being called to relationship with another, alleviating some need in their life, participating in a service that already exists, praying for the people we encounter. We are being invited to receive the gift of communion — communion with Christ and with his body present in every soul and in the poverty we all share this side of heaven. The Holy Spirit has a particular call for each of us, and it’s our job to take the time to listen and respond to that call.