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The Poor are Our Lords and Masters – Living a Faith of Reverence and Relationship

In a world dominated by consumerism, meritocracy, and the illusion of self-sufficiency, the poor are often reduced to statistics, stereotypes, or fleeting causes on social media. We may help them occasionally—through donations, campaigns, or volunteering—but how often do we truly know them? Do we see them as brothers and sisters, or as “projects” we temporarily serve? This reflection invites us to radically reimagine our relationship with those who are poor, not merely as recipients of aid but as sacred presences in our lives.

Frederic Ozanam, a layman of profound Christian maturity, challenges us to go beyond transactional charity. He teaches us to meet Christ in the poor—not metaphorically, but truly. And not as benefactors looking down, but as disciples looking up to their teachers, their “lords and masters.”

The Thought of Frederic Ozanam

Frederic Ozanam once said, echoing the words of St. Vincent de Paul, “The poor are our lords and masters, and we are their servants.” This wasn’t poetic language or rhetorical excess. It was a theological conviction rooted in the Incarnation: God became poor, fragile, and small. God chose to dwell among the lowly.

For Ozanam, this meant that service to the poor was not a duty we fulfill for them—it is a transformative relationship with them. He did not pity the poor; he revered them. He believed they held a unique place in the heart of God and, therefore, in the mission of the Church. In the poor, he saw not objects of charity but subjects of dignity, bearers of truth, and often the ones who evangelize us.

Frederic was convinced that only a faith that kneels before the suffering Christ in the poor is real. He warned against a kind of philanthropy that soothes our conscience without changing our lives. True Christian charity, he believed, is humble, relational, and rooted in justice. It demands listening, proximity, and a willingness to be changed by the encounter.

Biblical and Ecclesial Foundations

This vision is deeply biblical. In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus identifies himself not with the powerful or the righteous but with the hungry, the sick, the imprisoned, and the stranger: “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me” (Matthew 25:40). This is not symbolic—it is sacramental. To serve the poor is to serve Christ.

Mary sings in the Magnificat that God “lifts up the lowly” (Luke 1:52). Jesus begins his public ministry with the words: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me… he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor” (Luke 4:18). The Acts of the Apostles shows a Church where goods are shared, and no one is in need (Acts 4:34-35).

The Church, through its social doctrine, affirms the preferential option for the poor as a foundational principle. In Evangelii Gaudium, Pope Francis emphasizes that the poor are not only recipients of assistance but also agents of evangelization. The Church should be an instrument of liberation for the poor, and the poor should be fully included in society. The poor have a right not just to be helped, but to be heard, included, and empowered. This is a call to reverence, not just generosity.

How This Affects the Reality We Live In

Our society tends to view the poor through the lens of deficiency: people who lack money, education, or opportunity. We rarely consider that they may possess what we lack—resilience, humility, community, and often, a deep faith.

In cities and towns across the world, poverty is growing more hidden but no less real. From precarious employment to housing insecurity, from mental health struggles to forced migration, poverty has many faces. Social media may raise awareness, but it can also distance us emotionally, turning suffering into content rather than real-life encounter.

Frederic’s insight invites us to go deeper: not just do for the poor, but be with them. It is not enough to give; we must also receive. The world changes when relationships form—when names replace numbers, and when mutual trust replaces transactional aid.

This has major implications for how we think about service, volunteering, and charity. If our efforts don’t restore dignity, build community, and foster mutual transformation, then we may need to question whether we’re truly serving the poor—or simply ourselves.

How This Should Shape Our Christian Life

To live as Christians today means becoming people of encounter. Not occasional, staged encounters, but real, embodied, ongoing relationships. It means entering into the lives of those who suffer—not to fix them, but to walk with them, to listen, and to love.

We must let go of the savior complex. The poor are not waiting for us to rescue them; they are waiting for us to recognize them. The Vincentian way is not top-down—it’s shoulder-to-shoulder. It’s about building a “culture of closeness,” as Pope Francis often says, where no one is too low to teach us, and no one is too high to serve.

This may mean spending time in neighborhoods we’re unfamiliar with. It may mean rethinking our use of time, money, and privilege. It may mean simplifying our lifestyles in solidarity. It may mean inviting the poor not only to our tables but into our hearts—and letting them shape our worldview.

A Motivational Reflection

What if the poor are not simply people we are called to love, but people sent to teach us how to love?

What if Christ is hidden not in power, wealth, or fame—but in hunger, cold, and loneliness?

What if your greatest spiritual growth lies not in books or sermons, but in the gaze of a mother without shelter, the story of a refugee child, or the silent strength of a man working three jobs to survive?

Let yourself be interrupted by these presences. Let your comfort be unsettled. Let your faith stretch beyond your circles. The poor are not a burden to be tolerated—they are a gift to be welcomed, a mystery to be honored, a path to God to be followed.

As Frederic Ozanam discovered: we are not the ones bringing Christ to the poor. It is the poor who bring Christ to us.

A Prayer to the God Who Dwells with the Poor

God of the lowly and forgotten,
You chose to be born in a manger,
to walk with the excluded,
and to suffer with the oppressed.
Help us to see your face in every person who is hungry, tired, lonely, or rejected.
Teach us to serve not from pity, but from love.
Break our hearts open so that compassion may take root.
Strip us of pride, and clothe us with humility.
Let our hands become instruments of tenderness,
and our hearts, places of encounter.
May the poor never be strangers to us,
but friends, guides, and masters in the school of the Gospel.
Amen.

Questions for Personal and Group Reflection

• Who are the poor in my context—my city, my school, my workplace?
• Do I view them as equals, as friends, as bearers of God’s presence?
• When I serve, do I truly listen, or do I assume I know what others need?
• What concrete relationships in my life help me live the Vincentian spirit of closeness to the poor?
• How can I move from charity that comforts me to relationships that challenge and transform me?