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Give the Gift of Your Vocation This Christmas

As Vincentians, we have always understood that the heart of our vocation is not simply the things we give, but the relationships we build. Material help matters deeply, especially for those facing hunger, homelessness, or crushing bills, but our mission is first a mission of presence, respect, and friendship. In a culture that can treat people as problems to be solved, we insist that each problem impacts a person to be loved, listened to, and accompanied.​

St. Vincent de Paul spoke of love that is “inventive to infinity,” a love always searching for new ways to respond to suffering and new paths to bring the Gospel to life. This past year, that love has been visible in creative local programs, new partnerships, fresh approaches to advocacy and driving change, and renewed efforts to reach those in need. You have shown that Vincentian charity is never static but always moving outward.​

Every Conference, Council, and special work is a unique response to local needs, yet together they form a single national embrace of charity and justice. When a volunteer in a rural community visits a neighbor in crisis, and a large city council opens a new initiative for those on the margins, both are a part of one mission under the patronage of St. Vincent and Blessed Frédéric Ozanam. You may rarely see one another, but your prayers, efforts, and sacrifices converge in a powerful witness that the poor are at the very heart of our mission.​ We are ‘One Society.’

Our faith continues to remind us that Christ is especially present in those who are poor, forgotten, or excluded. The call to “place ourselves at the service of the poor” and to let our faith be manifest in the concrete acts of mercy is not an extra task; it is integral to the Gospel. Your simple, daily fidelity to this call makes visible what the Gospel proclaims.​

Many of the neighbors we serve face heavy burdens: economic uncertainty, health struggles, fractured families, isolation, and the lingering wounds of injustice. In some communities, divisions and fears can make it harder for people to trust that help will be offered with respect and without judgment. Yet again and again, Vincentians step into these difficult spaces with gentleness, humility, and zeal, offering not only help, but also hope.​​

This vocation changes us as well. Vincentians know that, over time, they find their own hearts softened and widened by encounters with those they serve. As you listen to neighbors’ stories, pray with them, and share in their struggles, you experience a deeper conversion of heart, discovering that Christ comes to you through the very people you looked to help.

As the new year approaches, let us renew both our commitment to growth in holiness and our outward mission. In your Conferences and Councils, may you continue to root every decision in prayer and the Vincentian virtues of simplicity, humility, gentleness, selflessness, and zeal. May your planning be guided by the question: “Where is Christ waiting for us in the poor of our community, and how can love be inventive here and now?”​ And may your planning be guided by the penultimate Vincentian question, “What must be done?”

The challenges ahead will require collaboration within the Vincentian family and with partners in the wider community. By sharing insights, resources, and best practices across Council, Regions, and nationally, we can respond more effectively to emerging forms of poverty and ensure that no conference is alone in its efforts. Your willingness to learn from one another, welcome new members, and mentor younger Vincentians will help this mission flourish for generations to come.​

This Christmas, as you gather to open the presents under the tree, for Mass, for family celebrations, and for moments of quiet prayer, remember that the Lord who comes in the Eucharist is the same Lord who waits in the face of every person who suffers. May the Child of Bethlehem bless you with deep peace, renewed joy, and the gentle courage to keep saying “yes” to those who call upon the Society of St. Vincent de Paul. Thank you for the gift of your vocation and may the God whose love is truly “inventive to infinity” continue to bless you with grace in the year to come.​

From Debi and me, Merry Christmas to you and your family.

John

O Holy Night…

For me it is so special to be with family at Midnight Mass to start the Christmas Season.  It is so wonderful singing and hearing the entire congregation singing, “O Holy Night.”

As Vincentians, this great Christmas song touches all our hearts.  It puts into words the special time when the Word became flesh and the bright light of Christ entered the world.

I love the first verse, but the third verse is where our Vincentian charism truly comes to life: “Truly He taught us to love one another; His law is love and His gospel is peace. Chains shall He break, for the slave is our brother; And in His name all oppression shall cease. Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we; Let all within us praise His holy name. Christ is the Lord! Then ever, ever praise we!  His power and glory evermore proclaim!”

Our charge from Christ is to make the words of this song come to life by growing together spiritually and making our world a better place.

In putting together this article I learned that “O Holy Night” was inspired by a church’s renovation. A parish priest in Roquemaure, France asked a local poet, Placide Cappeau, to write a poem for the Christmas Midnight Mass to commemorate the recent renovation and installation of the stained-glass windows and organ.  In 1847, it was put to music by composer Adolphe Adam.

This beautiful song was banned for a time because the lyricist was an atheist/socialist, and the composer was Jewish. However, the power of the way the words described the beauty of the birth of Christ prevailed, and this became one of our most beloved Christmas songs.

Many saw this song as controversial, even though it communicated the love of God powerfully and clearly. In a similar way, we may experience challenges when others see our Vincentian work to love others as controversial.

Many people judge those who are poor and vulnerable, and by extension judge those who try to help them. But no matter the challenges we face, we are called to overcome them to bring Christ’s bright light to the world. And I personally see our Vincentians doing this all the time – 2025 was an incredible year for the Society!  Yes, we had our challenges from the economy that impacted those we serve, but we were up to the task at hand and responded.

We had an incredible year of serving our neighbors in need, seeing Christ in the millions we served.  We grew together spiritually in friendship to face any challenges that came our way.

We established our Washington, D.C. office so we could fulfill our Vincentian calling to be a Voice for the Poor.  We did not go to our nation’s capital to be changed, but instead to change the mindset of our national leaders as Christ calls us to do in this magnificent song.

Thanks to our phenomenal Vincentian Servant Board Leaders, 2026 will be another great year for our Society!

I started this article with a Christmas song we all know and love, but I am going to end with one you may have never heard of.  It’s a song released the year I was born (1966) – “If Every Day Was Like Christmas” by Elvis Presley.

I know you will embrace this lyric from the song: “For if every day could be just like Christmas, What a wonderful world this would be.”

Thank you for making this a wonderful world by your commitment and dedication to our Society.  Truly by living and breathing the Vincentian charism, you are working hard to make every day be filled with the Christmas spirit of hope for those we are so blessed to serve.

Best wishes and Merry Christmas,

Michael Acaldo

The Wish We Live: Personal Relationships in the Heart of Service

When I moved to Georgia almost 34 years ago, it didn’t take me long to become a country music fan. Seems unlikely for a hardcore rock and roller who grew up on the beach. But it happened (let me clarify that I do not mean the old time ‘twangy’ country music of the ‘50s and ‘60s; that doesn’t do it for me).

There’s a song that I especially fell in love with. It has touched millions of hearts over the years. It’s by the country music group Rascal Flatts called “My Wish.” A song so simple and yet so profound that it transcends genre, age, and circumstance. It speaks of wishes. Not the frivolous desires we sometimes chase, but the deep, sacred longings we hold for those we love. When I consider the work we do at the Society of St. Vincent de Paul, I find myself returning again and again to those verses, to that chorus that captures something essential about what it means to serve another human being.

The songwriter penned those words thinking of his youngest daughter. He wanted her to know, in a world that felt overwhelming and complex, that someone was thinking of her. Someone cared about where she was going. Someone believed in her. That simple act of holding another person in your heart and expressing that devotion; that is the essence of what I see reflected in every Vincentian I meet.

Listen to the heart of the song’s message: the wish that “days come easy, that moments pass slow, that dreams stay big and worries stay small.” Those aren’t material wishes. They’re wishes for peace, for hope, for the assurance that someone believes in you and wants good things for your life. This is precisely the work we do. Every single day.

You know, anyone can give things. Anyone can open a checkbook or drop off food or clothes, and those are wonderful, important acts of love. But what you as Vincentians have chosen to do is far more difficult and infinitely more sacred. You have chosen to ‘know’ people. You have chosen to see them. And in that seeing, in that genuine encounter, something holy happens.

Let me be honest with you, although you, no doubt, already know it. Service at its finest can be deeply uncomfortable. We want to help, yes, but we also want our helping to feel good, to feel efficient. We want to cross items off our list. What the Society of St. Vincent de Paul asks of you is harder than that. It asks you to sit with someone – really sit with them – to to listen to their story, to understand not just their material need but their dignity, their dreams, their place in this world. When you do this, you are honoring them as a beloved child of God, not as a project to be completed or a box to be checked.

The refrain of “My Wish” keeps returning to a simple but profound truth: the hope that when you’re down and alone, you’ll know somebody loves you. This is the gospel made manifest through your hands, your presence, your willingness to show up. When you visit someone in their home, when you listen without judgment, when you remember their name and ask about their children, you are communicating that fundamental message: ‘You are loved. You are not alone.’

I think of a person I once helped; let’s call her June. You all, no doubt, have a similar story. June came to us, and by all objective measures, what she needed was clear: food assistance, help with rent, connections to housing resources. A volunteer coordinator could have checked those boxes. But instead, I spent hours listening to her story. I learned that June had been a teacher in her home country. I learned about her grandchildren. I learned what made her laugh and what kept her awake at night. And in that time, something shifted. June was no longer a “case” or a “neighbor in need.” She became a person to me. A person I cared about.

This is what the song means when it speaks of someone knowing that somebody loves them. It’s the recognition that another human being cares about your dreams, about whether your burdens are too heavy to carry. When June sat with me, I prayed that she felt that care. That she felt someone wishing her well in the truest sense. That she felt less alone in the world.

The song ‘My Wish’ speaks of wishing that someone would find you where you are – not where they think you should be, but where you actually are. This captures something crucial about our work. We don’t ask people to clean themselves up before we help them. We don’t demand that they have their lives together. We meet them exactly where they stand. We see the person beneath the circumstances. We recognize that homelessness, poverty, and struggle do not diminish someone’s fundamental worth and humanity.

Our culture tells us that efficiency is everything. That we should do more with less, that our time is a precious commodity to be guarded. But the gospel tells us something very different. The gospel tells us that time spent with another person, truly and fully present, is not time wasted, it is the very substance of love made visible. You know this instinctively. That’s why you’re a Vincentian.

Think about the relationships you’ve developed through your time as a Vincentian. I’ll bet that many of them have surprised you. You came prepared to give, but you received something too. Perhaps you met a man who, despite his homelessness, greeted you each week with a joke that made you laugh. Perhaps you encountered a woman who, though she had almost nothing, offered you tea and gratitude with such graciousness that you felt humbled. Perhaps you saw resilience that shamed your own complaints, faith that deepened your own faith.

This is the sacred dance of authentic service. The poor teach us as much as we serve them. The people we come to help often carry wisdom that no amount of education or advantage could have purchased. When we approach them with genuine respect, when we acknowledge them not as problems to be solved but as people to be known, we create space for true encounters. We stop looking down and start looking eye to eye.

“My Wish” speaks of wishing that you never need a reason to smile and that your life becomes a beautiful story you can’t wait to tell. How many times have you witnessed that transformation? Someone who arrived defeated and hollow-eyed, and weeks or months later, because someone believed in them, because someone insisted on their dignity and their possibility, they began to smile again. They began to imagine a future. They began to tell their story not as a tragedy but as a journey.

You are the architects of that transformation. Not because we have unlimited resources or miraculous solutions, but because we offer something far more valuable: We offer presence. We offer encounter. We offer insistence that their life matters and that their story is not over.

I know it’s tempting sometimes to create distance, to maintain professional boundaries that keep us safe from the messiness of real relationship. It’s easier to help if we don’t get too close, isn’t it? But I believe deep in my heart that the heartache of close relationship is worth every moment. Because when you truly know someone, their struggle becomes your struggle. Their joy becomes your joy. You can’t compartmentalize it into “volunteer hours.” It changes you.

A wish, when it comes from the depths of our hearts, is a kind of prayer. When “My Wish” speaks of wishing that the days come easy and the moments pass slow, it is expressing a longing for another person’s well-being that transcends the ordinary. It’s a blessing. And what are we doing here, if not blessing one another?

Every time you show up, you are making a wish for the people you serve. You’re wishing them dignity. You’re wishing them hope. You’re wishing them the knowledge that someone, somewhere, sees them and believes in their worth. You’re wishing for them what we all wish for ourselves: to know that we matter, that we’re not invisible, that our lives have meaning.

I want to be clear about something. The relationships you build aren’t pleasant extras to your volunteer work – they are the work. They are the point. The material assistance we provide matters, profoundly. But it is secondary to the fundamental message you communicate simply by showing up, again and again, with respect and genuine interest in their humanity. You are saying: ‘You are worth my time. You are worth knowing. You matter.’

The song’s refrain returns again and again to this simple truth: When you’re down and alone, may you know somebody loves you. In a world that often treats people as disposable, that judges worth by productivity or wealth, that looks away from suffering, that is something countercultural. It is insisting on the sacred worth of every single person.

As we move forward, I want to encourage you to lean into these relationships more deeply. Don’t be afraid of the emotions they stir in you. Don’t pull back because it hurts to know someone struggling. Let yourself care. Let yourself be changed by these encounters. That vulnerability, that openness of heart, is where the real spiritual growth happens.

And on days when the work feels overwhelming, when you hear stories that break your heart or when systems seem immovable, remember that your worth is not measured by what you can fix. It is measured by how faithful you are to showing up with love. Sometimes all we can do is accompany someone in their suffering. And sometimes, that is everything.

The wish we live out here, as members of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul, is not so different from the wish in “My Wish” by Rascal Flatts. It’s a wish that someone would care. That someone would see us. That we would know we’re not alone. It’s a wish that we would have the strength to carry our burdens, not alone, but supported by a community that genuinely believes in us and wants the best for us.

So: Keep wishing. Keep believing in the people you serve. Keep showing up with your whole heart. Keep building relationships that honor their dignity and reflect the profound truth that we are all children of God, all beloved, all worthy of love.

The people we serve aren’t the only ones being blessed. We are being blessed too. And thus, our capacity to love, to see deeply, to connect authentically is growing. We are becoming more fully human, more fully alive, more fully reflecting the image of Christ in our midst.

That is the wish worth making. That is the life worth living.

So this Christmas, and every day of the year, may we all have the courage to hold that wish close, and may we live it out with every encounter, every conversation, every moment we choose presence and relationship over efficiency and distance. May we never forget that what we offer to those we serve is the assurance that when you’re down and alone, you know somebody loves you.

That is the gospel. That is the Society of St. Vincent de Paul. That is why we are here.

Merry Christmas and may God Bless you and your family,

John

Should We Think of the Society as an Apostolate or a Ministry?

In Catholic Church circles, there has been a debate over the last 20 years about what to call church groups – “ministries” or “apostolates.”  “Ministry” seems to be the favorite as it’s easy to say, but in recent years there has been more of a push to use the word “apostolates.”  I want to argue the Society of St. Vincent de Paul is more of an apostolate and why it’s important.

In the book, Modern Catholic Dictionary by John A. Hardon, S.J. (from my area of Southwest Michigan), Fr. Hardon defines ministry as “authorized service of God in the service of others, according to specified norms revealed by Christ and determined by the Church.”  This means:

1. service of God, who is glorified by the loving service given to others
2. authorization by the Church’s hierarchy … this authorization may require ordination …
3. based on the teaching of Christ, who showed by word and example how to minister to people’s spiritual and temporal needs;
4. under the guidance of the Church in accordance with her directives and decrees.

Based on the above, I think the easiest way to think about a “ministry” is that it’s concerned with the Sacramental mission to bring people to Christ through the Sacraments. All four of Hardon’s definitions directly connect to the Sacraments. While   it is a great cause of the Church to connect people to the Sacraments, it is not necessarily the mission of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul.

We have a unique calling, and a unique ability, to witness our faith not just within the Church, but in the world. Frédéric explained that our Church and world lives are not split into two: we need to both determine the truth and to live it. This is why he was insistent that the Society remain “profoundly Catholic without ceasing to be lay.” In addition, the universal call of the laity to the apostolate, there are groups defined under Canon Law as lay apostolates, including the Society of St. Vincent de Paul. Despite not being a “ministry,” we always remember that living an apostolate or charism includes, definitionally, serving the good of the church.

What is an apostolate?

The word “apostolate” comes from the word “apostolic,” meaning that the Church, through the succession of and following in the example of the apostles, is SENT out into the world to spread the Gospel.  So, an apostolate is an organization that is sent out to spread the Kingdom of God.

“Indeed, we call an apostolate ‘every activity of the Mystical Body; that aims to spread the Kingdom of God over all the earth.’” – (CCC, 863)

I was working at a parish in Chicago when after Mass, an usher SENT me to see a man who was asking for help. His name was Joseph.  He was in an old military jacket and kind of intimidating. He told me he needed help, so I sat down and talked to him.  Mostly, I just sensed he wanted a friend, so I became his friend. I invited him to the church brunch which was happening at the same time right then. People looked at him and me kind of oddly, but we sat and had a meal together. Afterwards, I invited him to come to join me next week at daily Mass.  In those days, I looked after my 3-month-old daughter while I worked, so sometimes I was a little late making it to Mass, and I was late the day he came.  The daily Mass people were a little taken aback when Joseph came to Mass, but when he mentioned my name, they eased up a little. Afterwards, I invited him to come and sit with my daughter and I in my office. This made my priest boss a little upset that I would invite “a man like that” to be so close to my daughter and “I had to think about protecting my family.” But then I explained that I was trained as a Vincentian at another parish and Father Bob was quickly on board. “Oh, I didn’t know you were a Vincentian!”

Joseph and I would often sit during daily Mass and afterwards he would come to my office and talk with me and play with Naomi. I visited him quite a few times in his little dorm room he called a one-room apartment, which was above a bar. As time went on, he was getting more involved in the parish and offered to help grill during our parish picnic. People were starting to get to know him. Then suddenly, I got the call that Joseph died.

Father Bob asked me to lector at Joseph’s funeral. I came up to the ambo, 9-month child in my arms, and proclaimed the Word of God being very clear that I was connecting Joseph to a holy person in my gestures and silence. Afterwards, Joseph’s father came up to me, as Joseph had been estranged from the family. He asked, “You knew my Joey?”  I told him how we would sit in daily Mass together. He was so touched that Joseph came back into the Church, and the Church welcomed him.

The Holy Spirit SENT me to that moment. From the time I was a 10-year-old in the DRE’s office to now where I am a DRE, I don’t know exactly what the Holy Spirit is. I don’t know the Holy Spirit’s plan or exactly what He wants me to do. But tell me any story, and I can point him out. I love that Guy! He helps empower people to SEND people where we need to go.

Based on the Holy Spirit, the Society SENDS out Vincentians to encounter our neighbors in need. We do not just sit idly by; we are active in our apostolate.

The Vincentians see they cannot do this work alone. Vincentians SEND requests to pastors and parishes to get funding, food and more volunteers to help alleviate suffering of our neighbors in need.

Pastors SEND their parishioners to help or join the Vincentians in their mission.

Parishioners SEND their donations to the parish, which Vincentians are more than happy to organize, for our neighbors in need.

Vincentians see the need for greater organization and elect Conference and Council presidents and SEND them to our national assembly for their input and training to continue to grow our Conferences and Councils.

Conferences SEND Vincentians to Ozanam Orientations so we can be trained and respond to those we serve.  That Ozanam Orientation helped me respond to Joseph.

Vincentians see the overwhelming need and SEND Vincentians to do systemic change.  Systemic change is transformation. It is to change the systems, structures, mindsets, policies, and root causes of poverty. Systemic change is not the symptoms; it is holistic; it is collective action; it is complex and strives for a lasting impact. By embracing the apostolate nature of being sent by God, we strive toward systemic change in all things of the Society.

Voice for the Poor SENDS Vincentians to our government officials to advocate for our neighbors in need. Sometimes we go in person. Sometimes we send messages via voter voice. You can join voter voice here: https://ssvpusa.org/take-action.

Blessed Frédéric Ozanam prayed for faith and consecrated his life to God’s service (Apostle in a Top Hat, pg. 28). When the early Vincentians were forming the Society, Blessed Rosalie Rendu trained them and SENT them to the poor. We are grateful to be sent out in Jesus’ name in the instruction of Blessed Frédéric Ozanam and Blessed Rosalie Rendu. They too were SENT to help instruct us. Just as we strive to SEND ourselves to train others in our apostolate.

Below is a closing prayer and reflection. It is said that “the law of prayer is the law of belief” and so I thank the national spirituality committee for the recent update of the closing prayer, which you can purchase here: https://ssvpusa.org/product-category/spirituality/

This prayer, which includes the word “apostolate,” is part of the inspiration for this column. As spiritual advisor in my Conference, I use it as part of the closing prayer. Please note, I’ve adapted the prayer slightly to include the word “encounter” which our National President John Berry, has encouraged us to think about.

Father, grant that we who are nourished by the Body and Blood of Christ in the Holy Eucharist may realize the depths of our needs, respond more spontaneously to the suffering of others, and come to love You more deeply by service to our neighbor. 

Grant us also the wisdom and strength to persevere when disappointed or distressed. May we never claim that the fruitfulness of our apostolate springs from ourselves alone.

United in prayer and action, may we become a visible sign of Christ, and may we give witness to his boundless love which reaches out to all and draws them to love one another in Him.

We thank You, Lord, for the many blessings which we receive from those whom we encounter. Help us to love and respect them, to understand their deeper needs to share their burdens and joys as true friends in Christ. 

Amen.

Blessings,

Bobby Kinkela