Discover the heart and spirit of Father Jean-Émile Anizan through his own words—a priest devoted to the poor and the founder of the Congregation of the Sons of Charity (in 1918) and the Congregation of the Auxiliaries of Charity (in 1926).

The writings of Jean-Émile Anizan (1853-1928) reveal a man of God deeply devoted to the Church and the poor, unafraid to raise his voice to shed the light of the Gospel on the pressing issues of modern society. In them resound his evangelical spirit, his love for justice, and his conviction that genuine faith is always expressed in active charity. To read Anizan is to be challenged and inspired by a rich spiritual legacy that urges us to serve with courage, humility, and hope.

Text of Jean-Émile Anizan:

My God, grant me truly to be the good Samaritan of all those poor in body and heart and soul, those lying along the road of life, in the midst of the world’s indifference, like sheep without a shepherd.

Ah, if only I could be the shepherd not just to those I meet, but also raise up and prepare shepherds for those I will never meet, for those who will come into this world after me and until the end of humanity’s great trial!

Jesus, Father and Friend of the poor, in this, as in everything, you have shown us the example to follow, to do as you did while we await the end of life. Here I am, send me!

But it is true that it is not enough to say: send me … we ourselves must go as far as we can.

—Jean-Émile Anizan, Meditation on the Compassion of Jesus, 1917.

Commentary:

This text by Jean-Émile Anizan, written in 1917, during the height of World War I, takes us straight into the heart of his spirituality and pastoral vision. It is not simply a pious meditation, but a cry of surrender and mission, born in a time of human suffering on a massive scale. Europe was bleeding on the battlefields; families were suffering the absence or loss of their loved ones; cities were marked by hunger and anguish. In the midst of this desolate panorama, Father Anizan raised his eyes to heaven and voiced a prayer that still resonates today with renewed urgency: to become a good Samaritan for all the wounded of life.

The first image he employs is profoundly evangelical: the good Samaritan. He does not limit himself to evoking it as a moral example but asks for it as a grace: “My God, grant me truly to be the good Samaritan.” It is not enough to admire the parable, to comment on it, or to preach about it, it must be lived. Anizan understands that following Christ means taking responsibility for the poor, for those who have fallen by the wayside, for those lying in the ditches of social indifference. You cannot be a disciple of Jesus without becoming a Samaritan.

But there is a nuance that makes all the difference: Anizan prays not only to care for those he meets personally, but also to raise up and prepare other shepherds, to reach those he himself will never encounter. This vision goes beyond his immediate action and reveals the spirit of a founder, concerned not only with the present but with the continuity of the mission. It is the heart of a man who dreams of a future where charity multiplies through new laborers of the Gospel.

The key to this text lies in the union between contemplation and mission. By addressing Jesus as “Father and Friend of the poor,” Anizan recognizes that every pastoral initiative is born from the imitation of Christ, the Good Shepherd. He does not invent anything new. His mission is to prolong Christ’s compassion in history. That is why his prayer culminates in the prophetic cry of Isaiah: “Here I am, send me.” Mission is not a human strategy but a trusting response to a divine call.

At the same time, Anizan does not deceive himself with easy illusions. With realism he adds: “it is not enough to say: send me, we ourselves must go as far as we can.” Mission requires not only availability, but also concrete action. It is not about romantic spiritual enthusiasm but about real commitment that implies effort, fatigue, sacrifice, and demanding journeys. Charity is not a sentiment but a praxis embodied in concrete gestures of self-giving.

This balance between desire and action is one of Anizan’s great legacies. The risk of many spiritual movements has been to remain at the level of words—discourses about mission, poetic exaltation of surrender. Anizan, instead, reminds us that “send me” must be translated into actual steps, into going out, into leaving comfort, into walking dusty roads to meet the wounded. In other words, mission begins in prayer but is verified on the road.

The reference to “sheep without a shepherd” is also profoundly biblical. Anizan echoes the Gospel of Matthew (9:36), where it is said that Jesus, seeing the crowd, was moved with compassion because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Christ’s compassion is the origin of mission and from it comes the plea for new laborers for the harvest. Anizan, aware of the immensity of the task, does not content himself with asking for strength for himself: he wants his life to be the seed of new vocations, of new shepherds, of new Samaritans.

This desire connects fully with the Vincentian charism. St. Vincent de Paul did not limit himself to serving the poor of his immediate surroundings. Rather, he founded communities, trained missionaries, and raised up committed laity because he understood that charity needed to multiply and be structured. The same is true here: Anizan dreams of a Church capable of reaching the working masses, the alienated crowds, not only with the strength of one man but with the dynamism of an apostolic body.

The relevance of this text is undeniable. We live in a world where millions of men and women still lie wounded on the side of the road: migrants rejected, workers exploited, young people without horizons, the sick forgotten, families destroyed by poverty and/or violence. Anizan’s cry remains valid: “My God, grant me truly to be the good Samaritan.” The social indifference he denounced has not diminished; if anything, it has become more sophisticated in new forms of exclusion and invisibility.

Faced with this reality, the text invites us to examine ourselves: are we truly Samaritans, or do we prefer to skirt around the wounded and pass by, like the priest and the Levite in the parable? Do we remain in pious speeches, or do we take concrete steps of closeness? Do we care only about our immediate projects, or do we also dream of preparing others to continue the work of charity?

Anizan’s greatness lies in this breadth of vision: he wants to pour himself out personally, but also to open paths so that others can continue. In his founder’s heart, the poor are never left without a shepherd. His spirituality is fruitful because it does not think only of the present but of the future generation.

His prayer also carries the tone of total offering. The “here I am, send me” is not a one-time gesture but a lifelong disposition. It echoes Mary at the Annunciation: “Be it done unto me according to your word.” It mirrors Jesus in Gethsemane: “Not my will, but yours be done.” It is the same surrender resounding in so many saints of the Vincentian tradition, who lived mission not as a personal project but as obedience to God’s will.

Finally, this text reveals an essential trait of Anizan’s spirituality: compassion as the driving force of mission. It is not about a cold duty or a pastoral strategy but an inner movement born of the contemplation of Christ’s compassion. Compassion is not pity, rather it is suffering-with, entering into the wound of the other, allowing it to touch and change us. In this sense, mission is not philanthropy but participation in the very passion of Christ for his people.

That is why his prayer has not lost its relevance: it continues to be both call and demand … a call and a demand to be Samaritans in a world of indifference, to prepare new shepherds in a time of vocational scarcity, to live the “here I am, send me” with concrete deeds, not just words. That is the challenge Anizan leaves us, one that every Christian must embrace with humility and courage.

Suggestions for personal reflection and group discussion:

1. In my prayer, do I ask for the grace to be a good Samaritan, or do I just admire the parable without embodying it?
2. Is my Christian mission focused only on what I can do, or do I also seek to raise up and form others to continue the work of charity?
3. Do I allow Christ’s compassion to transform my priorities, or do I remain stuck in indifference and comfort?
4. Does my “here I am, send me” remain words, or is it translated into concrete steps of service?
5. Do I see in today’s poor—migrants, exploited workers, young people without hope—the sheep without a shepherd who need Christ’s tenderness?

Let us pray:

Lord, make us attentive to the wounded along the way,
so that we may not walk past those who suffer,
nor close our eyes to those waiting for a helping hand.

Give us a heart that is willing,
ready to rise and move forward,
without excuses or delay,
wherever life calls for compassion and care.

May our offering become seed for the future,
may our voice awaken new callings,
may our lives nourish the hope of the poor.

Here we are, ready to serve,
to walk with you on the path of mercy,
to give all that we are and all that we have.

Amen.