“I have loved you” (Rev 3:9). With this quotation from the Book of Revelation, Leo XIV opens his exhortation Dilexi te, drawing on the ultimate inspiration of his predecessor, Pope Francis, and his 2024 encyclical Dilexit nos. From the very first lines, the text breathes continuity: the love of Christ, manifested in His wounded Heart, now continues in the Church, called to love the poor with tenderness, respect, and commitment. This is the melody that runs through the entire exhortation: God loves first, and His love is revealed preferentially in the wounded flesh of the poor.

Leo XIV presents this text as an act of fidelity and spiritual inheritance. He takes up the project that Pope Francis had begun on the “care of the Church for the poor and with the poor,” and makes it his own at the start of his pontificate. It is not, therefore, a doctrinal or strictly social exhortation, but rather a love letter: from Christ to the poor, and from the Church to her Lord present in them.

The title—Dilexi te, “I have loved you”—is not only a divine declaration but also an ecclesial call. Every Christian is invited to listen to that word addressed personally: “I have loved you,” and, at the same time, to make it resound in the lives of the poor, so that no one may remain beyond the reach of Christ’s love.

The first chapter, titled Some Indispensable Words, offers the Gospel foundations of the entire exhortation. It is a contemplative meditation on the Gospel. Leo XIV begins with the gesture of the woman who pours a costly perfume on the head of Jesus (Mt 26:6–13), a symbol of gratuitous love—useless in the eyes of the world, yet immensely fruitful before God. That gesture, which many judged a “waste,” becomes for the Pope the key to understanding Christian love for the poor: every gesture of tenderness, however small, has eternal value.

The chapter then moves toward a central affirmation: the inseparable bond between love for Christ and love for the poor. When Jesus says, “You will always have the poor with you” (Mt 26:11), and when He promises, “I am with you always, until the end of the world” (Mt 28:20), He is in fact revealing the same mystery: His enduring presence in the poor. Thus, the encounter with them is not philanthropy nor mere social justice, but an encounter with the very Lord of history.

Leo XIV contemplates this truth through the experience of Saint Francis of Assisi. He recalls how the young Francis, upon kissing the leper, encountered Christ and was changed forever. In that gesture, the entire Gospel is condensed: holiness passes through touching the wounds of the Lord in the poor. The Pope thus resumes the intuition of his predecessor Francis, who, upon choosing his name, heard a cardinal say to him, “Don’t forget the poor!” That phrase—like a seed—now germinates in this exhortation.

From there, the Pope traces a theological and prophetic reading of the “cry of the poor.” He evokes the burning bush of Exodus, when God says to Moses: “I have seen the oppression of my people in Egypt, I have heard their cry, and I have come down to deliver them” (Ex 3:7–8). This passage reveals the very heart of God: a God who sees, who listens, and who descends. Christian faith is not founded on an abstract idea of compassion, but on the incarnation of a God who acts on behalf of those who suffer.

The text strongly denounces social and ecclesial indifference in the face of the many forms of poverty in our time: material, moral, cultural, the poverty of rights, and of dignity. Leo XIV shows great lucidity in pointing out that the old forms of poverty are multiplying along with new ones—more subtle and dangerous—typical of a society that exalts comfort, success, and wealth. He laments the contrast between the luxury of a few and the misery of multitudes who “die of hunger or survive in unworthy conditions.” In his reading of the world, the Pope shows fidelity to recent social magisterium, especially Fratelli tutti and Evangelii gaudium, but he does so with a more contemplative and compassionate tone.

The chapter concludes with a warning against ideological prejudice and the false meritocracy that attributes poverty to lack of effort. Leo XIV energetically rejects such moral blindness: “The poor are not here by chance or by a bitter fate; even less is poverty a choice.” He adds that many poor people work tirelessly, yet their effort does not lift them out of marginalization. In this denunciation, one perceives deep pastoral empathy, born of listening and prayer.

Finally, the Pope reminds us that even Christians can fall into that worldly mentality when they despise charity or reduce it to a secondary option. He warns firmly: “It is not possible to forget the poor if we do not wish to step outside the living current of the Church that springs from the Gospel.”

In sum, the first chapter of Dilexi te is a call to rediscover the Gospel of the poor: a Gospel that is not preached with speeches, but with closeness, tenderness, and commitment. It is also an invitation to let ourselves be evangelized by them, for the poor are “the teachers of the Gospel” (cf. Evangelii gaudium, 198).

From the Vincentian spirituality, this chapter resounds with extraordinary strength. Saint Vincent de Paul, gazing at the faces of the starving peasants, said: “The poor are our masters and lords.” And Saint Louise de Marillac added: “Serve the poor with respect and gentleness, for in them you serve Christ Himself.” Leo XIV stands firmly in that same current of concrete love, where theology becomes flesh and charity becomes mission.

Some Citations from Chapter I for Reflection

CITATION 1

“Jesus’ disciples criticized the woman who poured costly perfumed oil on his head. They said: “Why this waste? For this ointment could have been sold for a large sum, and the money given to the poor.” However, the Lord said to them in response: “You always have the poor with you, but you will not always have me” (Mt 26:8-9,11). That woman saw in Jesus the lowly and suffering Messiah on whom she could pour out all her love. What comfort that anointing must have brought to the very head that within a few days would be pierced by thorns! It was a small gesture, of course, but those who suffer know how great even a small gesture of affection can be, and how much relief it can bring. Jesus understood this and told the disciples that the memory of her gesture would endure: “Wherever this good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her” (Mt 26:13). The simplicity of that woman’s gesture speaks volumes. No sign of affection, even the smallest, will ever be forgotten, especially if it is shown to those who are suffering, lonely or in need, as was the Lord at that time.”
(Dilexi te, 4)

Leo XIV begins with a profoundly human scene: the gesture of a woman who pours perfume over the head of Jesus. The disciples criticize the act as wasteful, but the Lord declares it eternal. The Pope teaches us that no sincere act of love is ever lost, especially when it is directed toward those who suffer.

In Vincentian spirituality, this translates into an essential truth: charity is not measured by its effectiveness, but by its love. That woman improvises a gratuitous gesture—without calculation or strategy; in the same way, the Christian is called to serve with tenderness, expecting no reward.

In a world that values results, the Gospel reminds us that true fruitfulness lies in gratuitous love. The most silent works of charity—a visit, a hug, a shared prayer—are the perfume that consoles the wounded Christ in the poor.

The woman’s gesture anticipates the Passion: she anoints a head that will soon be crowned with thorns. Likewise, every time we care for the sick, accompany an elderly person, or bring hope to a migrant, we ease the suffering of Christ. In the economy of the Kingdom, nothing is lost.

Questions for Reflection

1. What small gestures of tenderness could be my perfume poured out upon Christ in the poor?
2. Do I value gratuitous love more than the visible results of my actions?
3. What “acts of love” is the Lord inviting me to make today?

CITATION 2

“The same Jesus who tells us, “The poor you will always have with you” (Mt 26:11), also promises the disciples: “I am with you always” (Mt 28:20). We likewise think of his saying: “Just as you did it to one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did it to me” (Mt 25:40). This is not a matter of mere human kindness but a revelation: contact with those who are lowly and powerless is a fundamental way of encountering the Lord of history. In the poor, he continues to speak to us.”
(Dilexi te, 5)

Leo XIV links two promises of Jesus that we often separate: His enduring presence among us, and the constant presence of the poor. Christ is with us—especially in them. Therefore, it is not a matter of helping “the poor” from the outside, but of finding Christ in their suffering flesh. This is the essence of the Vincentian charism: to serve the poor not as objects of compassion, but as the theological place of encounter with God. Saint Vincent de Paul expressed it powerfully: “Go to the poor, and you will find God.”

The Pope also warns us against the temptation to reduce charity to beneficence or philanthropy. To love the poor is an act of faith, not merely an expression of solidarity. In touching them, we touch the mystery of the Incarnation itself, where God became poor in order to dwell among us.

Questions for Reflection

1. Do I truly believe that Christ is speaking to me today through the poor I encounter?
2. Do I live my service as a social work, or as an experience of faith and communion?
3. What does Jesus say to me when I contemplate the concrete face of a poor person?

CITATION 3

“Eight centuries ago, Saint Francis prompted an evangelical renewal in the Christians and society of his time. […] I am convinced that the preferential choice for the poor is a source of extraordinary renewal both for the Church and for society, if we can only set ourselves free of our self-centeredness and open our ears to their cry.”
(Dilexi te, 7)

Here the Pope evokes the figure of Saint Francis of Assisi, but his words resound in every disciple who has discovered in the poor the path toward Christ. Leo XIV sees in the option for the poor not a pastoral strategy but a source of spiritual renewal.

Saint Vincent de Paul also experienced that when he went out of himself to listen to the cry of the poor, the Spirit transformed his life—and the life of the whole Church. Whoever serves from humility rather than self-assertion is inwardly reborn.

The Pope denounces “self-centeredness,” that closing in on oneself which suffocates both spiritual and communal life. Listening to the cry of the poor breaks the walls of the ego and rekindles faith. In Vincentian spirituality, such listening is not sentimentalism but obedience to the Gospel. When a community allows itself to be touched by the pain of others, the Spirit fertilizes it with new life: charity becomes mystic.

Questions for Reflection

1. How can I free my heart and my communities from self-centeredness?
2. In what ways does the cry of the poor evangelize me?
3. What signs of renewal do I experience when I serve without seeking recognition?

CITATION 4

“I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. […] I have come down to deliver them… So come, I will send you” (Ex 3:7-8,10). If we remain unresponsive to that cry, the poor might well cry out to the Lord against us, and we would incur guilt (cf. Deut 15:9) and turn away from the very heart of God.
(Dilexi te, 8)

Here we find the very heart of the exhortation. Leo XIV reminds us that God is never indifferent: He sees, He listens, and He descends. The story of Moses is repeated in every Christian vocation: the Lord says to each of us, “I am sending you.” The Pope teaches that the cry of the poor is the very voice of God. Whoever ignores it distances themselves from the divine heart. Indifference, he warns, becomes sin.

For Vincentians, this awareness is the root of mission. Saint Vincent felt that every poor person was a message from God calling for a concrete response. It is not enough to feel pity; one must allow oneself to be sent—to act, to liberate. The biblical text resounds powerfully: “I have come down to deliver them.” God acts through human hands; every gesture of justice and tenderness prolongs His redemptive descent. To serve the poor is to continue the Incarnation—to be the hands of a God who stoops down in love.

Questions for Reflection

1. Do I truly listen to the cry of the poor as a personal call from God?
2. What does it mean for me to “descend” into another’s suffering?
3. How can I be an instrument of liberation in my environment today?

CITATION 5

“The condition of the poor is a cry that, throughout human history, constantly challenges our lives, societies, political and economic systems, and, not least, the Church. […] We should perhaps speak more correctly of the many faces of the poor and of poverty, since it is a multifaceted phenomenon.”
(Dilexi te, 9)

Leo XIV widens our perspective here: the poor are not a homogeneous category but a multitude of faces and wounds. Poverty takes on a thousand forms—material, spiritual, cultural, emotional—and each one calls for a distinct response of Christian love. The Pope invites the Church to a conversion of sight: to move from statistical analysis to compassionate contemplation. Only one who looks with love can discover the hidden dignity of the discarded.

Saint Vincent learned to recognize these faces by name: the starving peasant, the abandoned child, the lonely elder, the mother without resources. Each face revealed an aspect of the suffering Christ.

The Gospel teaches us that there is no useless poverty: every wound can be a place of encounter with the Crucified One. In the “faces of the poor,” we contemplate the plural face of Christ.

Questions for Reflection

1. What concrete faces of poverty challenge me today?
2. Am I able to look beyond material poverty and recognize other forms of need?
3. What prevents me from recognizing the dignity of the poor as the living image of Christ?

CITATION 6

“A concrete commitment to the poor must also be accompanied by a change in mentality that can have an impact at the cultural level. […] Thus, in a world where the poor are increasingly numerous, we paradoxically see the growth of a wealthy elite, living in a bubble of comfort and luxury, almost in another world compared to ordinary people.”
(Dilexi te, 11)

Leo XIV invites us here to go beyond immediate assistance and enter the realm of interior and cultural conversion. It is not enough to give; we must think and live differently. The Pope denounces the scandal of inequality and indifference—the invisible fracture that separates the privileged from ordinary people. The rich, he says, live “in another world,” enclosed within their bubbles of comfort. This image recalls the words of Jesus: “Woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation!” (Lk 6:24).

The cultural transformation of which the Pope speaks cannot be imposed by decrees; it is born from the Gospel lived with coherence: sharing, listening, valuing simplicity, breaking down prejudice. When the disciples of Jesus consciously choose simplicity, solidarity ceases to be a slogan and becomes a way of life.

Saint Vincent de Paul also saw this social and spiritual distance. Serving the poor requires a revolution of perception, an inner break with the culture of waste. Structural poverty cannot be overcome merely with resources, but through a spirituality of communion, where we are all brothers and sisters, mutually responsible for one another.

Questions for Reflection

1. What changes of mindset do I need to make to live more in solidarity?
2. Am I willing to break my “bubbles” of comfort to draw nearer to the poor?
3. How can I contribute, within my own environment, to a culture of simplicity and sharing?

CITATION 7

“We must not let our guard down when it comes to poverty. […] It is no longer a single, uniform reality but now involves multiple forms of economic and social impoverishment, reflecting the spread of inequality even in largely affluent contexts.”
(Dilexi te, 12)

The Pope warns us here against compassion fatigue—that weariness of the soul that leads us to become accustomed to the suffering of others. “We must not lower our guard,” he says with pastoral urgency, reminding us that poverty takes on new forms even in developed societies.

Leo XIV observes that in wealthy nations there is also poverty: families struggling to make ends meet, silent loneliness, young people without hope. The Pope broadens the horizon: poverty is not only about bread but also about meaning and dignity.

From the Vincentian charism, this call means tending to all forms of poverty—material, spiritual, and emotional. Those who live with an attentive heart discover that every wounded person is “a sacrament of encounter with Christ.” There is no periphery into which the Gospel cannot enter.

And when the Pope mentions the double poverty endured by so many women—through exclusion and violence—one hears the deep sensitivity of the Daughters of Charity, women who have made of service a concrete response to inequality. They teach us that tenderness, too, is a transforming force.

Questions for Reflection

1. Have I lowered my guard before the poverty that surrounds me?
2. What new forms of poverty do I discover in my environment?
3. How can I accompany the most vulnerable—especially women and children—with tenderness and justice?

CITATION 8

“Looking beyond the data — which is sometimes ‘interpreted’ to convince us that the situation of the poor is not so serious — the overall reality is quite evident: Some economic rules have proved effective for growth, but not for integral human development. Wealth has increased, but together with inequality, with the result that ‘new forms of poverty are emerging.’”
(Dilexi te, 13; Fratelli tutti, 21)

Leo XIV is not afraid to speak clearly: an economy without justice is not progress but idolatry. He quotes the words of Fratelli tutti to remind us that economic growth does not equate to integral human development. Wealth increases—but so do the wounds. The Pope insists that poverty cannot be relativized with statistics or optimistic rhetoric. “The poor are not numbers,” he repeats, “they have faces and names.” The true Christian economy is one of sharing, not discarding.

Saint Vincent had already denounced his own age’s version of this same evil: the powerful accumulated goods while peasants died of hunger. His response was not ideological but evangelical—he organized charity, united hearts and resources, created networks of justice. Vincentian spirituality invites us to view economic systems through the eyes of the poor, not through the success of the powerful. As love transforms structures, society becomes more like the Kingdom of God.

This social conversion begins on a personal level: choosing simplicity, sharing, valuing fair work, supporting causes of solidarity. It is not about condemning anyone, but about recovering the sense of the common good that the Gospel proclaims.

Questions for Reflection

1. How does my way of consuming and living influence the justice or injustice of the world?
2. Am I aware of the structures that generate inequality?
3. What can I do, within my own reality, to promote an economy of sharing?

CITATION 9

“The poor are not there by chance or by blind and cruel fate. […] Nor can it be said that most of the poor are such because they do not ‘deserve’ otherwise, as maintained by that specious view of meritocracy that sees only the successful as ‘deserving.’”
(Dilexi te, 14)

This quotation is Leo XIV’s prophetic denunciation of the myth of meritocracy. In a world that glorifies personal success, the Pope reminds us that poverty is not the result of a lack of merit but of unjust structures. Jesus Himself was poor—without titles or power—yet full of love. The logic of the Gospel reverses that of the world: “The last will be first” (Mt 20:16).

This teaching carries a profoundly spiritual dimension: only those who renounce feelings of superiority can serve with a pure heart. Humility opens our eyes to the truth that we are all in need of mercy.

Leo XIV asks us to look upon the poor with respect, not paternalism. They are not to be blamed, but are victims of a system that forgets the weak. From the Vincentian spirit, charity means recognizing hidden dignity and restoring it through concrete gestures of inclusion and tenderness.

Questions for Reflection

1. Have I ever judged the poor, thinking they are responsible for their situation?
2. What does the poverty of Christ teach me about true human worth?
3. How can I live a form of charity that dignifies rather than humiliates?

CITATION 10

“Christians too, on a number of occasions, have succumbed to attitudes shaped by secular ideologies or political and economic approaches. […] The poor cannot be neglected if we are to remain within the great current of the Church’s life that has its source in the Gospel and bears fruit in every time and place.”
(Dilexi te, 15)

The Pope closes the chapter with a warning: to forget the poor is to step outside the Gospel. Faith cannot remain alive if it does not take concrete form in love. He reminds us that even within the Church there is the risk of worldliness: when charity is despised or considered a secondary activity, faith loses its vitality.

The “living current of the Gospel” is the flow of love that springs from the Heart of Christ into the world. When Christians move away from that current—through ideology, comfort, or indifference—their faith withers.

Vincentian spirituality calls us to remain immersed in that current, making charity not merely an action but an identity: to be a Church that is poor and for the poor, in communion with the One who made Himself the servant of all (cf. Mk 10:45).

Questions for Reflection

1. What ideologies or habits keep me from living the Gospel of charity in its fullness?
2. Does my faith lead me toward the poor, or does it keep me in spiritual comfort?
3. How can I help my community remain in the “living current of the Gospel”?

Community Prayer

“I have seen the oppression of My people…”
(Ex 3:7)

Lord Jesus,
You who have seen the tears of the poor,
who have heard the cry of the voiceless,
and who have come down to set them free,
look today upon Your Church, which seeks to serve You in them.

Teach us to see You in the face of every brother and sister,
to discover in every wound the trace of Your crucified love,
and not to pass by the suffering that cries out.
Make us sensitive, like You,
to the voices of the humble, the children, the forgotten.

Deliver us from indifference and fear,
from the false security that closes us in,
from judgment that condemns, and from lukewarm charity.
Make us bold in love,
creative in service,
steadfast in listening.

Breathe Your Spirit into us,
that our hands may be balm,
our eyes mercy,
our hearts a home for the poor.
May every simple gesture—a word, a visit, a shared piece of bread—
be perfume poured upon Your wounded head.

And when weariness or misunderstanding weigh us down,
remind us that You are there,
in the silence of the poor,
waiting to be loved.

Make of us a living Church,
one that does not merely speak about the poor but lives with them,
that does not contemplate them from afar,
but embraces them as friends and teachers.
May our charity be faithful, tender, and concrete,
and may Your Gospel continue to flow through history
as a river of compassion that never runs dry.

Amen.