Responses to injustice based only on charity may readily be maligned for not addressing the systemic issues that cause suffering to be perpetuated; yet, properly understood, charity should be seen as an essential part of transformative action and as the vital relational and affective dimension of justice. The word charity derives from the Latin, caritas, and can be better understood as a generous and self-giving love. It reflects an understanding of love as a sustained virtue and not as a fickle or thoughtless passion.
Frédéric Ozanam, influential lay leader and founder of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul, understood that acts of charity enabled insight into the plight of the poor and oppressed, and facilitated more substantive and transformative social change. His beliefs resonate with those of Vincent de Paul and others within the Vincentian tradition. Ozanam emphasized personal relationships as fundamental to both affective and effective social action and transformative service. This Vincentian personalism, as we have come to know it, recognizes the unique circumstances of individual people, while concurrently working toward broader, systemic change. Ozanam’s words on the power of experience help us understand this piece of Vincentian wisdom:
The knowledge of social well-being and reform is to be learned, not from books, nor from the public platform, but in climbing the stairs to the poor’s man garret, sitting by his bedside, feeling the same cold that pierces him, sharing the secret of his lonely heart and troubled mind. When the conditions of the poor have been examined, in school, at work, in hospital, in the city, in the country… it is then and then only, that we know the elements of that formidable problem, that we begin to grasp it and may hope to solve it.[1]
As you consider social issues that must be addressed in our time, how do you maintain a personalism consistent with our Vincentian mission? That is, how can you better recognize and respond to the unique personal circumstances of those affected, while also working at the same time for systemic change that addresses the root causes of their suffering?
How might this Vincentian approach apply given the context of your work in higher education? How might DePaul University better reflect such a way of being?
“God also works incessantly from outside himself in the creation and preservation of this great universe, in the movements of the heavens, in the influences of the stars, in the productions of land and sea, in the nature of the atmosphere, in the regulation of the seasons, and in all that beautiful order we observe in nature, which would be destroyed and return to nothingness if God was not constantly guiding it.” Vincent de Paul (CCD 9: 384). Love of Work, 28 November, 1649.
Recently, several DePaul colleagues have shared with me about the joy they feel when they are in the natural world. A sense of awe, a feeling of pleasure, a wave of gratitude that may be found “in that beautiful order we observe in nature,” as Vincent de Paul once wrote. Although his defining years were spent within cosmopolitan Paris, Vincent was forever shaped by his childhood in the bucolic countryside of Gascony. He learned early the handiwork of God that is evident in creation. Hundreds of years later, in our own urban setting of Chicago, we know to take a stroll around the block or a turn in a park or just to look above the buildings towards the sky can bring a quiet moment’s peace and perhaps even surprise us with something unexpected and beautiful.
Today, in the midst of a global pandemic, spending time outside, in reflection, may not only be helpful for our physical health, it may also provide respite and a new perspective for our spirits. A reminder that while we are only a small part of a larger whole, we are not alone. In these late days of summer, as we prepare for the beginning of a most anticipated, and uncertain, school year, it seems an even greater imperative for us to experience the balm of creation. Not only for the benefit it promises to the body and to the soul, but also for the possibility of glimpsing the hand of God at work in our midst.
Where are places in nature you can go to and feel inspired or at peace? How can you enjoy these days of the summer season in ways that you know will bring you joy?
We know not everyone has reasonable access to the natural world or a healthy environment. How might you be able to contribute to the beauty and sustainability of the earth for all its inhabitants?
Reflection by: Tom Judge, Chaplain, Mission and Ministry
Today, most of us are familiar with the concept of systemic and structural change. In the context of 17th Century France, however, in which Saints Louise and Vincent lived, the idea of systemic change had yet to be developed. Instead, during this period, any efforts to improve the situation of those living in poverty tended to focus on solving the immediate material needs of the person in front of you. Given this context, the contributions of Vincent and Louise were notable and ground-breaking for their time in the way they went beyond addressing the immediate demands posed by poverty, to the level of organizing charitable efforts at a structural level. Not only did their labors lead to more effective and efficient forms of service delivery but they continue to shape the professions of health care and social work centuries later.
If we fast-forward two centuries to 19th Century France, a deeper appreciation of the world as a complex interrelated system was evolving. It was during this time that Frederic Ozanam, a 20-year old student studying at the Sorbonne, was one of the principle founders of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul in 1833. Ozanam helped recruit students for this lay Catholic organization to serve the poor in the slums of Paris, and at the same time regenerate French society to create a more just world. Indeed, after years of revolution and at the dawn of industrialization, Ozanam’s vision was to create “a community of faith and works erasing little by little the old divisions of political parties and preparing for a not-too-distant future a new generation which would carry into science, the arts, and industry, into administration, the judiciary, the bar, the unanimous resolve to make it a moral country, and to become better themselves in order to make others happier.”[1]
Thus, during this period, even though the terms systemic change and systemic thinking were not yet in common parlance, Ozanam’s ideas were infused with the seeds of such concepts. Indeed, for this Vincentian family member, if solutions for poverty were to be found, both individual lives and societal forces had to be transformed.
Today the Society of St. Vincent de Paul continues on a global scale. It is currently comprised of more than 800,000 members in 153 countries. While the Society has grown and changed over the years, its mission has not: to serve those on the margins, and shape a more just and compassionate world.
In 2006, Reverend Gregory Gay, C.M., then Superior General of the Congregation of the Mission, founded a Commission to promote systemic change as a way to end poverty, building upon the strong Vincentian foundation dating back to the time of Vincent and Louise. He called all members of the Vincentian Family to engage in strategies to help end poverty through systemic change as an essential dimension of living out Vincentian virtues and values in today’s context.
In light of this call and reading the signs of the times in our world today, how might you be hearing a similar call in your professional work at DePaul or in your personal life to improve the larger systems that impact the lives of those who are poor or marginalized? Given the problems that confront our society, what inspiration might the example of Frederic Ozanam offer as we seek to construct a more just world?
Note: DePaul University’s former Clifton-Fullerton Hall was recently renamed Ozanam Hall. See the Newsline Article from July 23, 2020 for more information.
[1] Dirvin, Joseph I., CM. Frédéric Ozanam: A Life in Letters. Society of St. Vincent DePaul, Council of the United States. 1986. “Letter to Henri Pessoneaux,” 13 March 1840. p. 178
Reflection by: Siobhan O’Donoghue, Director of Faculty and Staff Engagement, Division of Mission and Ministry
This episode is an interview with Rev. Craig B. Mousin founder and former Executive Director of the Midwest Immigrant Rights Center and an Adjunct Faculty member at DePaul University’s College of Law and The Grace School of Applied Diplomacy. He talks about responding to the federal government’s proposed regulations that would make asylum seekers ineligible for asylum and related remedies based on purported public health considerations. We encourage you to file your own comments opposing part or all of the proposed procedures and asking the government to withdraw the entire proposed rule. To assist you in obtaining a link to the proposed procedures or in filing your comment, you may incorporate your remarks into one of the templates provided by the following:
If you are concerned about unaccompanied minors or children refugee issues, you can use the Young Center’s template.
Both websites provide additional information on how the proposed regulations restrict access to the courts and prevent bona fide applicants from presenting their cases for asylum. To be accepted by the government, please make sure your comments are filed on or before 11:59 p.m. EDT, Monday, August 10 2020.
Please share this podcast and links with members of your community or faith organizations, family members and friends. Encourage them to file comments to help ensure that our nation continues to offer shelter for refugees in need. Thank you for your consideration of this request.
“Go, therefore, Mademoiselle, go in the name of Our Lord. I pray that His Divine Goodness may accompany you, be your consolation along the way, your shade against the heat of the sun, your shelter in rain and cold, your soft bed in your weariness, your strength in your toil, and, finally, that He may bring you back in perfect health and filled with good works.”1
Over the past week, Muslims around the world observed Eid al Adha. This greatest holiday on the Muslim calendar comes at the end of the season of the Hajj Pilgrimage to Mecca, and it commemorates the sacrifices made by Prophet Abraham and his family (peace be upon them) for the sake of the One God. Of course, this year both the Hajj and Eid celebrations were nothing like they usually are. Hajj, usually attended by millions from around the world, was limited to a symbolic select few already present in Saudi Arabia. The normal mass prayers and other celebrations held by Muslims throughout the Chicagoland area could not be held. This continues to be a time of hardship and trial, and we know that many people in our own country and throughout the world are enduring great hardships.
When it became clear that Hajj could not take place as usual, one question that arose was what does this mean for Muslims as it is so important to our practice of the faith? Indeed, it is well known as one of the “pillars” of Islam. Not being able to observe Hajj and commemorate the sacrifices of Abraham and Hagar and Ishmael is a great sadness. However, it caused me to reflect that the vast majority of Muslims, today and throughout history, have not been able to make Hajj. Global travel is a privilege limited to a select few. I have never been to Mecca and intended to go this year for the first time myself. Yet, Hajj is part of the spiritual imagination of every Muslim. We tell stories about it, we learn about it, we donate funds to help others go, we honor those who have attended and celebrate their return, we ask them what they learned, and we dream about it. We seek to learn lessons from it, whether we can physically go or not. Much as we also seek to learn lessons which come from shared sacrifice and assisting the vulnerable, those lessons found in our own day to day experiences and challenges, as well as those found in the people around us.
Vincent de Paul spent a great deal of his life organizing and sending missionaries on journeys intended to be in the service of God and the poor. In his brief essay, “Vincent the Traveler,” Jack Melito, C.M., observes that Vincent’s zeal drove him to want to go wherever was necessary to advance his mission. Yet, while he did often travel in his early life, Vincent spent his later years mainly confined to Paris. However, while “his body stayed at home…his zeal roamed.”2 Vincent vicariously traveled these missions through those he sent on them, and through the letters and communications shared with them.
Whatever our circumstances, in what ways can we view the hardships and challenges we face at this time as opportunities to learn and transform? In what ways can we try to balance our willingness to make sacrifices with our hope to return “in perfect health and filled with good works”? How might we better see this difficult time as one challenging part of life’s long journey or pilgrimage?
1) Letter 39, To Saint Louise, 6 May 1629, CCD, 1:64-65.
In this episode Rev. Craig B. Mousin discusses the deployment of federal officers to Portland in reaction to the ongoing protests. He discusses the problem of relying on federal immigration officers for local law enforcement and links some of Chicago’s responses to federal interference in local matters.
He references a previous podcast about DACA recipients and their families and communities. It is available here:
For more insight into the distinction between the constitutional constraints on Customs And Border Enforcement and local law enforcement, see a blog co-authored by a former colleague at DePaul College of Law’s Asylum and Immigration Law Clinic, Linus Chan, now an Associate Clinical Professor of Law at the University of Minnesota Law School: “Trump’s Paramilitary Unites Trained at the Border for the Assaults on Portland Moms,” by Linus Chan and Carrie L. Rosenbaum. slate.com/news-and-politics/20…d-moms-attacked.html
Louise de Marillac once noted that “hunger and thirst are two urgent needs of nature, especially in strong bodies… If our souls are healthy, they should have the same urges, not as passions, but as desires for justice.”1 Louise was suggesting that in the same way our bodies need food and water to be healthy, our souls are only healthy when we are living in and working towards a just society. More specifically, this desire for justice is an ongoing, long-term pursuit. The need is not just a quick “passion” or trend, but something at the core of who we are as human beings.
Yet, as strong as our internal conviction to create a just society may be, none of us can do it alone. It takes a community working together for the sake of a common mission to create systemic change. Our personal desire for justice will only be effective if we use it to support and collaborate with others, and in turn lean on them to support us. It is in “this spirit of support and adaptation […] we would regard the interest of others as our own! And with the strong sustaining the weak, everything would go better.”2
How are you nourishing your soul’s desire for justice? How are you supporting and collaborating with others in your community to create change? How can your community support you?
1) A.30, (Meditation on the Hunger and Thirst for Justice), Spiritual Writings of Louise de Marillac, 733.
2) 1910, To Étienne Blatiron, Superior, In Genoa, September 1655, CCD, 5:423.
Reflection by:
Michael Van Dorpe, Program Manager for Faculty and Staff Engagement, Mission & Ministry
Photo: AP Photo/Linda Schaeffer. Sept. 3, 1986, John Lewis, front left, and his wife, Lillian, holding hands, lead a march of supporters from his campaign headquarters to an Atlanta hotel for a victory party after he defeated Julian Bond in a runoff election for Georgia’s 5th Congressional District seat in Atlanta.
When John Lewis was diagnosed with fourth stage pancreatic cancer back in December, I was shaken. My unsettled spirit at this news was, in part, caused from a flood of memories around the same news my family had received about my father years earlier. Another cause of my unrest came in recognizing that another good man was entering into the battle of his life knowing full well that this battle could not be won. And, I was distraught because our country needed John Lewis, the “conscience of Congress.” News of Representative Lewis’ illness deeply affected me just as the news of his death now haunts me.
And so, I find myself pondering a great man whose life and legacy are gifts to our world that simply cannot be forgotten. John Lewis is known as a hero, a Civil Rights champion, an activist, a man of God, a recipient of the Medal of Freedom. These titles (and so many others) and the tireless work that inspires such titles help paint the picture of a talented and dedicated man who spent six decades in service to humanity. But, there is another title that Mr. Lewis most likely never knew but one that most certainly suits him well. John Lewis was a Vincentian.
The work of Vincentian leaders is always grounded in something far beyond themselves. For Vincent, his work was a matter of answering a call from Divine Providence. As St. Vincent entered into that call and followed, he was able to find the strength and confidence to tackle the daunting ministry before him.[1] This same confidence and strength that John Lewis found in his work came from his deep and abiding faith. In a 2004 interview about his work in the Civil Rights Movement, Mr. Lewis spoke boldly of the importance faith played as the Movement unfolded: The [Civil Rights] movement was built on deep-seated religious convictions, and the movement grew out of a sense of faith — faith in God and faith in one’s fellow human beings… Without our faith, without the spirit and spiritual bearings and underpinning, we would not have been so successful. Without prayer, without faith in the Almighty, the civil rights movement would have been like a bird without wings.”[2] It was a deep seated faith that carried John Lewis through dozens and dozens of physical beatings and even more political struggles. It was an unfaltering faith in God’s goodness that surely gave Mr. Lewis the courage and will to continue speaking out and working for justice up until his dying days.
“God allows us to give rise to the practice of two beautiful virtues: perseverance, which leads us to attain the goal, and constancy, which helps us to overcome difficulties.”[3] —St. Vincent de Paul
Photo: Credit Unknown. In this photograph from 1962, Lewis, then a field secretary for the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), had traveled to Cairo to organize demonstrations to protest the segregation of public spaces. Here, he and his colleagues hold a Prayer Demonstration at a segregated swimming pool.
Like John Lewis, St. Louise de Marillac encountered and overcame many challenges while always practicing and encouraging great kindness and goodness: “Our vocation of servants of the poor calls us to practice the gentleness, humility and forbearance that we owe to others. We must respect and honor everyone.”[4] Louise de Marillac and John Lewis humbly reached out to people of all walks of life, listening to their stories and opinions, and acting in ways that honored them. In Mr. Lewis’ case, he even asked blessings upon those who brutally beat him. His commitment to honoring the dignity of others can be seen in a statement he made following President Obama’s decision to endorse same-sex marriage: “Once people begin to see the similarities between themselves and others, instead of focusing on differences, they come to recognize that equality is essentially a matter of human rights and human dignity.” Representative Lewis began his work as a young man fighting for rights of the Black community but his lifetime work was dedicated to fighting for the rights of all people. He did so in all humility and kindness, loving his neighbors, and never giving up in his fight for justice.
“The question which is agitating the world today is a social one. It is a struggle between those who have nothing and those who have too much. It is a violent clash of opulence and poverty which is shaking the ground under our feet. Our duty…is to throw ourselves between these two camps in order to accomplish by love, what justice alone cannot do.”[5]— Frederic Ozanam
DePaul University describes its distinguishing marks as, “Motivated by the example of Saint Vincent, who instilled a love of God by leading his contemporaries in serving urgent human needs, … characterized by ennobling the God-given dignity of each person…. manifested by… a sensitivity to and care for the needs of each other and of those served, with a special concern for the deprived members of society.”[6] These distinguised marks of our DePaul community could easily be a summation of the life and legacy of John Lewis. He was a man of God who dedicated his life to serving urgent human needs, ennobling the dignity of all, and with a deep concern for the marginalized and deprived members of our society. John Lewis truly was a man who exemplified the hallmarks of our Vincentian community. Claiming John Lewis as a Vincentian in spirit, word, and deed seems very fitting, indeed.
As with all our Vincentian models in life, we are left with a gift and a call from Representative Lewis who was never satisfied with simply accepting the status quo. His life and now his legacy become a call to each of us to continue the hard work in which he engaged and encouraged in us. As Vincentians we do not sit on our laurels but we continue to push forward, always recognizing that there is much to be done in our woeful world. The spirits of St. Vincent, St. Louise, Elizabeth Seaton, Frederic Ozanam, and John Lewis inspire us today to continue the important work of seeking justice and pouring love into the world. We honor John Lewis and all our Vincentian ancestors when we follow the example and heed the words of Representative Lewis:
“So you have a moral obligation, a mission and a mandate, to speak up, speak out and get in good trouble… You can do it. You must do it. Not just for yourselves but for generations yet unborn.”[7]—John Lewis
As we honor a great man who fought many battles through life, we know what must be done: let’s go make some good trouble!
Rev. Dr. Diane R. S. Dardón, ELCA Religious Diversity & Pastoral Care, Director
[1]“Providence must call us and we must follow it, if we are to go forward confidently.”Vincent de Paul (Volume: 3 | Page#: 538) To Rene Almeras, Superior, In Rome, 4 February, 1650.
A unique benefit of membership in a Vincentian institution is that we belong to a large global family who participate in and lead acts of service and justice every day. Such actions are manifest in a vast array of social, educational, and religious undertakings. Depending upon their context and geographical location these endeavors may look quite different, but they share a common Vincentian mission to uphold the dignity of all persons, particularly those on the margins of society. This mission is enhanced by responding to the signs of the times and drawing upon the wisdom of a rich 400-year-old legacy.
A recent article highlighting the fieldwork of the Daughters of Charity in East Africa illuminates this dynamic.1 Established in 1927, the Daughters of Charity in Ethiopia are almost entirely composed of Ethiopian sisters. During the last two decades, through their keen reading of the social landscape and interpreting the signs of the times, the Daughters have reimagined their model of service and engagement. As a result, they have moved away from programs that simply provide goods to alleviate need, to programs that engender economic empowerment and skill-building.
Examples include the St. Louise Women’s Empowerment Project which runs a six-month skill-training program in Mekelle that incorporates a sewing program and a cooking preparation class. Over ninety percent of the more than two thousand women who have graduated from this program now have jobs or are self-employed. In Addis Ababa, the Daughters Urban Development Project also focuses on women’s empowerment by coordinating economic support and training to start up or expand small businesses. Through economic empowerment, such programs are forging pathways for the participation of women in all areas of Ethiopian civil society. This is in keeping with Louise de Marillac’s vision. “Louise lamented the lack of opportunity of women and the abuses and deprivations of young girls and adult women [was to be] a priority work of the Daughters if the social and moral conditions for women were to be improved.”2
As members of the DePaul community in Chicago learning about the continuing efforts of our global Vincentian family to uphold the dignity of those who have traditionally been denied the right to fully participate in society, how do you interpret the signs of the times today? To what action might Vincentian wisdom be calling you to advance justice? How will you respond?
Vincent de Paul’s idea of meekness is explored in an article by Robert Maloney, C.M, former superior of the Congregation of the Mission.1 He suggests that meekness for Vincent could best be translated today as gentleness. Meekness and gentleness seem like odd things to be discussing in the current political climate. Societal advances made during the civil rights era and after were largely forged using methods we certainly would not characterize as meek.
However, meekness and gentleness are ideas that Vincent used when talking about treating others with dignity and respect. He said to the Daughters of Charity, “[The] chief concern will be to serve…with compassion, gentleness, cordiality, respect, and devotion.”2 To serve others with respect and to recognize their human dignity is paramount in our times. Human dignity is not just a Catholic tenet. As a secular humanist, for example, I also believe treating everyone with human dignity is a precept.
Meekness or gentleness confers an openness to listen. To hear and recognize the struggle of others is a necessary precursor to work toward a solution. But that openness needs to be sincere. Listening without compassion and the willingness to work for real change is not enough. A lack of concrete action reflects the cycle we are trying to break right now—the empty nodding by government officials, the inaction that dooms us to return to the same old policies of systemic racism and systemic privilege.
I would caution you not to interpret Vincent’s conception of meekness and gentleness as weakness. Vincent never extolled the virtue of being meek to power. Gentleness in Vincent’s mind was to be accompanied by firmness. Such firmness is necessary so that the voices of people who have lost theirs can be heard. Given where we are today, it seems a good time to revisit Vincent’s idea of meekness or gentleness. His words advise that we respect all people for their inherent dignity, listen to those that have been marginalized, and stand side-by-side working in solidarity with them in their struggle for equality.
How can I be gentler and thus more open to recognizing other people’s struggles? How might I work in solidarity with others in their struggles?
Responses to injustice based only on charity may readily be maligned for not addressing the systemic issues that cause suffering to be perpetuated; yet, properly understood, charity should be seen as an essential part of transformative action and as the vital relational and affective dimension of justice. The word charity derives from the Latin, caritas, and can be better understood as a generous and self-giving love. It reflects an understanding of love as a sustained virtue and not as a fickle or thoughtless passion.
