Vincentians

Hope in Action: Serving the Poor Amid America’s Growing Housing and Homelessness Crisis

In neighborhoods across the United States, the simple dignity of home is slipping out of reach for millions. At any given time, over half a million Americans are homeless, with countless more living on the edge; couch-surfing, sheltering in motels, or fearing the next eviction notice. This isn’t just a crisis of statistics; it’s a daily reality for families, veterans, young people, and senior citizens. As the mission of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul calls us to grow in spirituality through service to the poor, we are called not just to recognize this crisis but to respond to it with mercy, love, and tangible action.

The Faces Behind the Crisis

Visit any city or small town, and the signs of homelessness are visible: tents beneath highways, “Help Needed” signs at intersections, families lining up at food banks, children living in uncertainty. Yet each person caught in the web of housing insecurity has a name, a story, and a soul loved by Christ. The causes are complex; soaring housing costs, stagnant wages, mental health challenges, addiction, and the lingering effects of the COVID-19 pandemic. But the call to respond is startlingly simple: We are invited to see, to serve, and to grow.

Catholic Social Teaching: The Preferential Option for the Poor

The words and actions of Jesus Christ leave us no doubt: “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me” (Matthew 25:40). In Catholic social teaching, the preferential option for the poor isn’t just a principle. it’s a commandment rooted in dignity, mercy, and solidarity.

Saint Mother Teresa, who dedicated her life to serving those abandoned by society, captured it best: “Each one of them is Jesus in disguise.” Whether it’s a family evicted from their home or a veteran living on the streets, our faith compels us to see Christ in the vulnerable. The Church teaches that true justice is measured by how the poor are treated.

Growing in Spirituality: Meeting Christ in the Margins

Service to the poor transforms not only those we help but also our own hearts. Volunteers often share that encounters with the homeless, whose possessions may fit in a backpack or a shopping cart, bring unexpected lessons in humility, gratitude, and faith. To sit with someone on a park bench, to serve a meal in a shelter, or to listen to a story of struggle is to enter a sacred space where God is powerfully present.

I recall a moment that moved me deeply while I serving at SVdP in Atlanta. As the CEO of SVdP Georgia I was visiting one of our Thrift Stores. I began helping a man find shoes in the store while I was there. He told me he used to own a construction company but lost everything because of medical bills. He had more hope than I did, even after all he’d been through. I recognized Christ in his perseverance, and I was a better person for having interacted with him.

Service, when rooted in love, is never a one-way street. As we accompany our neighbors facing homelessness, our own spirituality deepens. It becomes less about charity and more about solidarity, a shared journey toward wholeness.

Living Mercy Here and Now

While the enormity of the housing crisis can feel overwhelming, Vincentians and volunteers have always found creative and meaningful ways to answer the call. For many, serving in local shelters and food banks is an opportunity not just to provide necessities, but to build genuine relationships through listening and offering compassionate presence. Others become advocates for affordable housing, lending their voices to legislative efforts and supporting organizations dedicated to increasing access to safe homes. The simple act of assembling kits filled with essentials like hygiene items, socks, snacks, paired with words of encouragement can offer comfort and hope to those on the streets. Prayer vigils and community events bring awareness and spiritual support, while sharing skills through mentorship or job training programs empowers those striving for stability. By supporting families at risk of eviction and educating their communities about homelessness, we help transform compassion into action and engage people of all ages and abilities in works of mercy.

The Spiritual Discipline of Ongoing Mercy

It’s tempting to see service as something we “do”. A task to check off or a solution to implement. But Catholic social teaching insists that service is also about continual conversion. When we give of ourselves, we discover our own dependence on God and on others. We recognize the brokenness within ourselves and grow in humility. The discipline of mercy is ongoing: it lasts beyond one meal served or one shelter shift.

Saint Oscar Romero, martyred for defending the poor in El Salvador, said: “When we leave Mass, we ought to go forth as if we have just discovered a wonderful secret to share.” For Vincentians, the “secret” is Christ’s presence among the poor, and the invitation to encounter him through mercy, justice, and service.

Called to Action: Mercy That Transforms

As economic challenges, social divides, and uncertainty continue to affect communities across the United States, the call to serve is louder and more urgent than ever. Vincentians have a unique opportunity to be the hands and feet of Christ in a time of deep need. We are invited not only to relieve immediate suffering, but also to journey alongside our brothers and sisters, advocating for lasting solutions and growing ever deeper in faith.

Let us remember: every act of kindness, however small, is a gateway to transformation. Every face we encounter on the street, in shelters, and in the margins reflects the image of God. Our mission is not only to “help,” but to see, to listen, and to walk with. In so doing, we fulfill the Gospel’s deepest command and embrace the mystery of mercy in action.

A Prayerful Reflection for Volunteers

As we serve, let us ask Christ for eyes that recognize his presence in those who lack home and hope. May our hands be merciful, our hearts generous, and our spirits humble. Let every encounter remind us of our own dependence on God and inspire us to grow in love. And may the transformation we experience through serving our brothers and sisters deepen our commitment to justice and mercy, bringing the light of Christ’s compassion to our communities and our world.

Peace and God’s blessings,

John

Finding Joy in the Chaos of Service (and Life)

I was blessed to grow up in a community filled with friends, neighbors, and classmates from diverse ethnic, religious, and cultural backgrounds. Our tight-knit circle of school friends, many of whom I still keep in touch with, spent countless hours in each other’s homes, celebrating holidays and special moments together.

I attended my Jewish friends’ Bar Mitzvahs and shared Seder meals at their homes; they joined us for Christmas dinners and came to our Confirmations. It was a joyous way to grow up. We were all beach kids, growing up on the ocean, and our common bond was the water. Whether it was surfing, swimming, or late-night beach parties, we forged lifelong friendships.

My closest friend was Jewish. His parents were immigrants from Germany, and I still remember an expression his mother used to say when we’d start dreaming out loud about our future plans (which, of course, mostly involved becoming rock stars, world-champion surfers, or lifelong beach bums). With love and a knowing smile, she’d say: “Der mentsh trakht un Got lakht,” Man plans, and God laughs.”

The Punchline of the Universe

Many of you have probably heard that expression before, though perhaps not in its original Yiddish. It’s one of those rare proverbs that manages to be both deeply philosophical and a perfect punchline when life throws a pie into your meticulously laid plans.

You might hear this phrase from grandmothers, spiritual sages, or anyone who’s ever had a Monday. But its power lies not just in charm or self-deprecation. It speaks to a universal truth: no matter our intentions, life retains the right to improvise.

We map out our days, plan years in advance, and read books titled Things Fall Apart, assuming, of course, that our particular things will not. Then, the universe, with the comedic timing of a late-night writer, throws in a snowstorm, a flat tire, or a missing cat just to keep us humble.

But this isn’t cruel. The laughter in “God laughs” isn’t the cackle of an omnipotent prankster. It’s the loving chuckle of a parent watching their toddler plot a path to the cookie jar, completely forgetting the laws of physics (and the family dog). It’s a cosmic inside joke and an invitation to loosen up and remember even the best-laid plans are subject to rerouting, revision, and reruns.

Plans Meet Real Life: The Volunteer Edition

Nowhere does this proverb’s wry wisdom hit harder than in the world of volunteer work.

You arrive, eyes shining, plans in hand, ready to fix every woe in a single afternoon. You’ve got a PowerPoint titled Operation Soup for the Soul, color-coded schedules, and an uplifting playlist queued up. Five minutes in, the oven rebels, toddlers outnumber adults three to one, and nobody can find the ladle.

The universe (and, perhaps, God) chuckles gently, tossing in a dash more chaos to your recipe for good.

And yet, and here’s the twist, magic sneaks in through the cracks. The moments you remember aren’t the ones you scheduled, but the laughter during dishwashing, the surprise carrot-chopping talents of a retired dentist, and the mysterious appearance of twelve extra cakes.

Your plan wasn’t the plot. And that’s where the gold is.

The Hero Complex Gets a Reality Check

You’ve probably heard of the “hero complex,” that well-meaning urge to swoop in, fix everything, and earn a modest (or resounding) round of applause. The heart is in the right place, but the ego is riding shotgun.

You rush forward, cape flapping (even if only in your imagination), determined to “save” the community, cure all injustice, and be remembered in stories, preferably with inspiring background music.

But here’s the kicker: reality, like God, has a wicked sense of humor. The hero complex can quickly morph into overconfidence or tone-deafness. You plan to “lift” a community, only to find it already has its own plans, and, more often than not, already built the ladders.

“Der mentsh trakht un Got lakht” pops the ego-balloon before it floats too far. It reminds those of us prone to heroism: don’t assume you’re the protagonist. Ask instead: “What do you really need?” and “How can I help without making this about me?”

That shift from control to curiosity reveals the true spirit of service. The best stories rarely star us alone. They emerge when everyone has a voice when we serve with, not above, others.

Laughing with the Divine

One of the secret gifts of this Yiddish proverb is permission to laugh at yourself, at the universe, and at the micro-dramas that unfold in every charitable kitchen, food pantry, or fundraiser.

Jewish humor, forged through centuries of resilience, finds its strength in irony, self-effacement, and the ability to smile in the face of absurdity. That spirit is contagious. Those who can laugh when the soup burns, the flyers multiply inexplicably, or the event flops gloriously are the ones who recover, adapt, and build true community.

There’s liberation in this laughter. It frees us from perfectionism and opens the door to creativity. Sometimes the failed event becomes the beloved tradition. Sometimes the missed connection becomes a lifelong friendship. And sometimes, busted plans and quick recoveries turn out to be the best team-building activity ever invented.

Planning with Open Hands

So, the paradox is: “Man plans, and God laughs” doesn’t mean we shouldn’t plan. We should. Plans are useful. Intentions are meaningful. Structure helps.

But clinging too tightly to a plan, bristling at every deviation, (you know who you are) is a surefire way to miss out on the richer, more joyful surprises that come when we let life breathe.

Instead, approach service with ambition and agility. Shoot for the stars, but pack hiking boots and a sandwich just in case the road is actually a roundabout, and the stars are hiding behind a cloud.

What does this look like in practice?

Be prepared, but open-minded. Show up ready, but expect the unexpected, and when your plan falls apart, look for what’s trying to break through.

Perhaps the deepest lesson isn’t that we shouldn’t plan but that we should hold our plans with both commitment and curiosity. In volunteering, this means centering the community’s voice, respecting lived experience, and remembering that partnership always beats paternalism. Some of your greatest contributions might be the ones you never saw coming.

The Invitation to a Better Story

So, by all means, lay out your plans. Bring your best intentions. Leap into service with enthusiasm.

Just don’t be surprised when things go sideways. And if the universe winks, or bursts into laughter, don’t insist on being the straight man in life’s ongoing improv.

Chase your big ideas. But welcome the plot twists. Laugh with the divine, with your neighbors, and most of all with yourself.

Because sometimes, plans falling apart isn’t the joke. It’s the invitation to an even better story.

Oh, and by the way, I still think I would’ve been one heck of a professional surfer. (Cue God chuckling.)

– Peace and God’s blessings,  John