From Transactions to Relationships: A Vincentian Examination of Heart
There is a quiet shift happening in many places that the Society of St. Vincent de Paul cannot ignore. Some forms of our charitable work, even when generous, are drifting from relational to transactional – from presence to process, from shared life to “service delivery.” The Society was never founded to be a distribution system of help, but a living network of faith, friendship, and transformation among and with those who are poor. When our works become an exchange instead of a relationship, we risk losing something essential in our Vincentian identity.
Blessed Frédéric Ozanam and his friends began not with programs, but with people they knew by name. Their response to the cry, “What is the Church doing for the poor?” was not a new project alone, but a new friendship; face-to-face, heart-to-heart. In that spirit, Ozanam echoed St. Vincent in insisting that the poor are our “lords and masters,” not objects of our generosity but partners who reveal Christ to us. The Society exists so that members “may grow in holiness” through personal service and encounter with those in need, not simply through successful events or programs.
This is why both advocacy for the poor and deep personal relationship with them belong at the center of our Society, not at the edges. Church teaching makes clear that poverty is not simply bad luck or personal failure but is often the result of structures and systems that wound human dignity. To love our friends fully, Vincentians must be willing to address not only the emergency they face today, but also the policies, practices, and economic realities that keep them on the margins. At the same time, those realities must never become abstractions that replace actual people. Advocacy must rise from the ground of friendship, from stories we know, hands we have held, and homes we have entered.
Pope Leo’s encyclical ‘Dilexi Te’ speaks with striking clarity to this Vincentian tension between private faith and public witness, between quiet charity and courageous advocacy. He rejects the idea that religion can be confined to the private sphere, insisting that Christian faith has a rightful place in shaping social, economic, and political life. For Pope Leo, love for the poor is not an optional extra or a private hobby of a few generous souls; it is a decisive test of whether a person, a community, or a movement within the Church is authentically living the Gospel.
At the same time, ‘Dilexi Te’ strongly rejects and condemns any narrative that blames the poor for their own poverty. The encyclical insists that the poor “are not there by chance or blind and cruel fate,” nor simply because they failed to work hard enough. Any attitude that treats the poor as undeserving or as a burden is unmasked as “blindness and cruelty.” In this light, Vincentian advocacy is not a political add-on but a moral duty: if systems, laws, or economic arrangements trap our friends in poverty, then charity alone is not enough. Love for them must include the willingness to question and challenge whatever crushes their dignity.
Perhaps most beautifully, ‘Dilexi Te’ reminds the Church that the poor are not a “problem” to be solved but members of our own family. Pope Leo points to a vision of the Church where the poor are welcomed, listened to, and honored; not only because they need us, but because we need them. Their faith, their endurance, and their perspective help the whole Church see reality more truthfully. This matches the deep heart of the Vincentian Charism: when we draw close to those who are poor, we do not simply bring Christ to them; we also receive Christ from them.
Pope Francis warned that the Gospel is not an idea or ideology but a living word that touches and changes hearts. Speaking to grassroots leaders, he praised those who feed, house, and employ the poor, reminding them that “we are not serving an ideology but truly living the Gospel,” and that in the faces and wounds of the poor “is hidden” the face of Christ. Mother Teresa expressed the same truth in her own way: “Our poor people are great people, very lovable people… they don’t need our pity and sympathy, they need our understanding love… our respect; they need that we treat them with dignity.” That is not a service model; that is a relationship.
For Vincentians, the parable of the Good Samaritan offers a wonderful kind of “examination of heart.” The Samaritan does not simply offer quick aid and move on; he stops, draws near, listens, binds wounds, and stays involved. Yet he also forces us to ask: Why is the road itself so dangerous? Who profits from a world where so many are left bleeding by the wayside? Authentic Vincentian holiness holds both dimensions together: the tenderness that kneels beside a neighbor and the truth-telling that questions and challenges unjust structures.
This leads to two simple questions that every conference, council, and Vincentian must prayerfully ask:
- Who among the poor do I truly know by name? As more than a “case,” more than a number? We may try to make ourselves feel better by calling them ‘Neighbors in Need’ instead of ‘Clients,’ but that is not truth, it is make-up.
- Whose voice do I help raise up when decisions are made that affect housing, work, health, and future for the people we serve? Or do I hide behind the excuse that ‘politics’ is not my thing?
If our answer to the first is thin, our charity may be drifting toward transaction. If our answer to the second is weak, our faith may be retreating into the private sphere. The Society’s charism calls us to strengthen both friendship and justice, closeness and courage, so that the poor are not simply “helped,” but honored, heard, and joined in the work of transforming our communities.
In the end, this is not primarily about strategies but about vision. Do we see the families we serve as “problems to manage,” or as “lords and masters” who bear Christ’s presence and wisdom? Do we design programs around what we think they need, or do we listen until our plans begin “starting from them”? As we let the poor become our friends and teachers, our Society becomes more truly itself, more deeply Vincentian, more clearly evangelical, and more fully a sign of the Kingdom where no one is a stranger and everyone is called by name.
Peace and God’s blessings,
John
