Charity for the Whole Man,

Continued...

is so difficult. In order to explain the necessity of virtue, the value of suffering, and the role which each person (including oneself) plays in society, human beings have to find God. In the end, this can only happen through the gateway of the Catholic Church.

It is necessary to emphasize at this point that the administration and practice of the corporal works of mercy cannot be conditional to anyone’s accepting the true Faith. Recently, I was speaking with a Hindu friend who explained that in India and Nepal, the Catholic Church has had much more success in making converts than other Christian denominations, precisely because Catholic services in these countries still offer basic necessities, healthcare, education, and other temporal goods even when the recipient is non-Catholic and intends to remain so. Other Christian Churches are apparently more likely to subvert charity into a form of manipulation, in an attempt to force new converts. Since such behavior is manifestly lacking in respect for each person’s conscience and individual relationship with God, converts have instead gravitated toward the Catholic Church, where charity remains constant no matter the recipient’s attitude.

Achieving a balance in charitable care for both body and soul, then, becomes a matter of great prudence and discernment, upon which many conversions may depend.

I understand why my classmates, with their various activisms and projects for the good of others, tend to focus so much on temporal, social, and physical welfare and ignore souls altogether.

They want to avoid the accusation that they are discriminatory in their service, or that they are offering aid only under the condition of some kind of belief or behavior. As a result of trying to sanitize all spiritual content from charity, however, they become fiercely resentful of religious groups attempting the same, as if offering spiritual instruction in tandem with physical care constituted some violation of human autonomy.

I think, without their realizing it, this attitude makes them accidentally condescend to the very people they want to help, supposing that those souls aren’t intelligent enough to interact with people of faith and make their own decisions.

Based on volunteer experience of my own, however, I know for a fact that even the most abject homeless person has clear opinions on God and religion and is usually quite willing to engage in a bit of theological discussion (and quite stubborn in his or her convictions!).

This is why the Catholic Church balances the corporal works of mercy with the spiritual: instruct the ignorant, counsel the doubtful, comfort the sorrowful. The suffering populations of this world are indeed often ignorant, doubtful, sorrowful—usually through no fault of their own, but only because of their race or social status or disability.

We can offer these children of God the food, clothing, and shelter they need, while also suggesting the best means we know of finding instruction, healing doubts, and alleviating sorrows— namely, the precepts of God and the Church. If someone rails against their hard lot of poverty and discrimination, we can do our best to help them out of such a painful situation, but also reassure them that even in their sufferings they are not alone: God has suffered with them and for them on the cross. This is not a trespass against their human autonomy or their status as images of God. Instead, it is a way to acknowledge the fulness of their humanity, which needs not only bodily aid, but also spiritual nourishment. We cannot presume to know any individual’s relationship with God, but at least we can attempt to open channels for his or her easier interaction with God—perhaps leading to an eventual conversion.

But even after this, supposing that for some obscure reason, known only to the providence of God, these souls do not convert, or even take offense at our attempts to offer spiritual mercy, we can turn to other spiritual works: bearing wrongs, forgiving injuries, praying for the living and the dead.

No matter whether those whom we try to assist are grateful or not, whether they convert or not, whether they take offense or not, we can always offer up the little slights and injuries which inevitably come our way for their salvation. This, in fact, may be the most important work of all: our silent effort before the eyes of God to win souls for Him within the inscrutable operation of His grace. I sometimes think about my own attempts at charity—whether inside the circle of my own acquaintances or in a broader arena—and realize that if it were not for my Catholic Faith, I would put no effort into them at all.

No matter how intensely one embraces humanitarian causes and believes in intrinsic human dignity, it is impossible to ignore the fact that other human beings are difficult creatures. They often hurt us, or disappoint us, or anger us.

Thus, for me, it is almost exclusively my conviction that these human beings are each an image of God which prompts me to continue my efforts to be charitable.

This is why I do truly admire the many people whom I have met in the secular field who are committed to good works: their altruism is so real and so deeply rooted that it motivates them to continue their efforts selflessly and without reward, in spite of the fact that they lack the conviction of a divine imprint to give value to the often stubborn or recalcitrant people they serve. Often they have borne similar sufferings and sympathy provides enough motivation for years of service.

I am humbled by their generosity, at the same time that I am saddened that it is necessarily limited. I often think about what immense good they could do if their own eyes were opened to the truth.

All Catholics should join me in praying that this may happen so we can rejoice to see how far they outstrip us in executing the works of mercy. ■