Being the Hands

Late in the Second World War, American troops made their way into Strasbourg, France. Consistent with tactical doctrine, the area had first been subjected to intense artillery fire in order to drive out the German defenders (and destabilize those who remained) so that the American infantry would have an easier time taking the city.

 

 

 

 

 

 

There were, of course, many awful consequences of the attack. One of them (though, admittedly, not the worst) was that the parish church was all but destroyed. Two things remained intact: the tabernacle and a statue of Jesus. The statue was perfectly preserved, with the exception of the two outstretched hands which had been blown off: the result of an exploding shell. The hands were never found.

One theologically sophisticated wag found a piece of cardboard that he affixed to the statue. On it he wrote: “You are the hands.”

His insight was profound, highlighting the fact that when Jesus ascended into heaven, He left his followers to do his work on earth. His sentiment recalls the beautiful poem of St. aTeresa of Avila who wrote, in part:

 

Christ has no body but yours,

No hands, no feet on earth but yours,

Yours are the eyes with which he looks

Compassion on this world,

Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,

Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.

Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,

Yours are the eyes, you are his body.

Christ has no body now but yours.

 

These images were brought to mind as I read Pope Leo XIV’s first Apostolic Exhortation, Dilexi Te (“I have loved you”). In it he called on us Catholics to recommit ourselves to the plight of the poor. 

(An apostolic exhortation is a formal document from a pope that encourages Catholics to–among other things–take action on a particular issue facing contemporary society. Addressed directly to the faithful, it doesn’t define any new doctrines, but it does apply Catholic teaching to specific actions).

The voice of Pope Francis (who began work on it before he died) echoes throughout the document, but this is clearly the position of Pope Leo: a statement of purpose for his papacy and marching orders for the Catholic faithful.

The exhortation is in some ways a walk through Church history, highlighting religious orders whose members voluntarily embraced poverty to better identify with and minister to those whose poverty was not chosen. Moreover, he notes with appreciation those religious communities whose charism was and is to teach–giving marginalized people the skills to improve their conditions. He traces the history of the Church’s solidarity with those who have had to migrate, giving special attention to St. Frances Xavier Cabrini—the first American citizen to be canonized a saint. Lastly, he traces the Magisterium’s affirmation of the preferential option for the poor, including the powerful words of so-called “conservative” popes such as Benedict XVI and John Paul II.

By tracing Church’s long tradition—both philosophical and practical—of caring for the poor and marginalized, he reminds those who might tend to hold that “our task is [exclusively] to pray and teach sound doctrine” that our social justice teachings are also woven into the fabric of the Church (DT #114). 

But those who hold that helping to build the Kingdom of God means the Church should focus primarily on issues of social justice have a wake-up call here as well. Dilexi Te is Pope Leo’s call for Catholics to practice cura personalis (care for the individual person) for the poor in all of their needs: not merely their material ones. As he points out, our concern for the needy is 

[not] merely of providing for welfare assistance and working to ensure social justice. Christians should also be aware of another form of inconsistency in the way they treat the poor. In reality, “the worst discrimination which the poor suffer is the lack of spiritual care… Our preferential option for the poor must mainly translate into a privileged and preferential religious care.”  

The Good News finds rocky soil among those who put their children to bed hungry every night. But Jesus reminds us that “one does not live by bread alone” (Mt. 4:4) We are physical and spiritual, body and soul. We are called to minister to both these aspects of the human person.

And we have to work at this—not just talk about it. Pope Leo cautions that “[r]emaining in the realm of ideas and theories, while failing to give them expression through frequent and practical acts of charity, will eventually cause even our most cherished hopes and aspirations to weaken and fade away” (DT #119).

It's more important to be the hands of God than the tongue.

Dorothy Day, the model of a wholistic Catholicism which is at once orthodox in matters of faith and passionately active in matters of justice, noted in a Catholic Worker column:

The mystery of the poor is this: That they are Jesus, and what you do for them you do for Him. It is the only way we have of knowing and believing in our love. The mystery of poverty is that by sharing in it, making ourselves poor in giving to others, we increase our knowledge of and belief in love (CW, 04/01/64).

Here “under the tower” the boys are engaged in a “Beards for the Bank” fundraiser where a number of them have donated money to the Cleveland Food Bank in exchange for being able to grow whatever facial hair they have. In our current situation, as federal funding for relief programs has been frozen, some of the concluding words of Pope Leo’s exhortation seem especially relevant to the rest of us:

[When we are not able to provide good jobs for the less fortunate] we cannot risk abandoning others to the fate of lacking the necessities for a dignified life. Consequently, almsgiving remains, for the time being, a necessary means of contact, encounter and empathy with those less fortunate (DT #115). 

The Psalmist reminds us that “the Lord hears the cry of the poor” (Ps 34). 

The Lord’s vicar reminds us that it is up to us to answer it.

A.M.D.G. / B.V.M.H.