We invite you to discover, through his writings, Blessed Giacomo Cusmano (1834–1888), a priest who founded the congregations of the Misionary Servants of the Poor and the Sisters Servants of the Poor, and who was known for his charity toward the needy and the sick.

Giacomo Cusmano wrote numerous letters, homilies, and spiritual notes in which we encounter a man whose spirituality was rooted in active charity, seeing in every poor person the face of Christ. For this reason, he not only helped the needy with his own resources but also organized the work of the “Boccone del Povero” [“the Morsel of the Poor”], which mobilized the community to provide food for the most destitute.

Text of Giacomo Cusmano:

Do not make any difference between the suffering poor and Jesus in the sacrament. One single love, one single care, one single reverence: it is always Jesus! Whether you run to Communion, or hasten to the sickbed, or feed the hungry, clothe the naked, give drink to the thirsty, teach the ignorant, admonish the sinner, console the afflicted, or bury the dead—it is always Jesus! Do not diminish your affection, do not reduce your attention, do not weaken your spirit. He is at your side, He longs for your love, and this is what He wants to give you when, through all these paths, He calls you to Himself, draws you near, and presses you to His Heart.

—Giacomo Cusmano, Boccone spirituale, October 18.

Commentary:

Blessed Giacomo Cusmano here places us before one of the deepest truths of Christianity: Christ is one and the same in the Eucharist and in the suffering poor. There are not two loves, two presences, or two devotions. It is always Jesus.

Christians often fall into the temptation of separating what God has joined. On the one hand, we may cultivate Eucharistic devotion, adore the Lord in the tabernacle, and receive Him in Communion. Yet, once outside the church, we can easily forget that the same Christ awaits us in the needy, the suffering, and those who beg for help.

Cusmano strikes us with urgency: do not mark any difference. The same Jesus whom we receive in the consecrated Host is the One who comes to us in the hungry, the naked, the sick, the grieving, and the ignorant. To neglect one presence is to diminish the other.

Cusmano insists: “one single love, one single care, one single reverence.” The Christian heart cannot be divided: fervent in church, cold in the street; tender before the altar, harsh before the sick. The love that burns before the Eucharist must burn in service to our neighbor.

The authenticity of our piety is tested precisely here: how it translates into concrete charity. It is not enough to kneel in adoration; we must also kneel to wash our brothers’ feet.

The text lists the corporal and spiritual works of mercy: to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, give drink to the thirsty, teach the ignorant, admonish the sinner, console the afflicted, and bury the dead. Cusmano presents them as the natural prolongation of Communion.

To receive Communion is to commit oneself to mercy. Christ cannot be received and then ignored in the poor. Every work of mercy becomes, in a sense, liturgy: a continuation of the Eucharist in daily life.

Cusmano’s words are tender and moving: Christ “languishes for your love.” God is not distant, demanding duties; He is near, longing for love. On the cross He cried: “I thirst” (Jn 19:28). That thirst remains.

It is not thirst for water but for concrete love: deeds of mercy, works of compassion. When we go to the hungry, the sick, the afflicted, we quench Christ’s thirst. When we neglect them, He languishes, for the love He desires from us is left unanswered.

Cusmano helps us grasp the profound unity between altar and street. Sunday Mass and weekday charity are inseparable. There is no true Eucharist without mercy; no authentic mercy without Eucharist.

The church and the poor man’s home, the monstrance and the hungry man’s table, the liturgical song and the consoling word—all belong to the same mystery. It is always Jesus whom we encounter.

This is a call to an integral spirituality that does not fragment faith. We cannot be “spiritual” in church and “indifferent” in daily life. We cannot venerate the Lord in the Host and despise Him in the needy.

Christian coherence is measured here: Does my love for the Eucharist become love for the poor? Does my adoration before the Blessed Sacrament continue in my hands that serve, in my lips that comfort, in my gestures that lift up?

Today, many Christians seek intense spiritual experiences, long adorations, and beautiful liturgies. These are good—but Cusmano reminds us: they are authentic only if verified in charity. Without this test, devotion risks being aesthetic but not evangelical.

At the same time, in a society that values social action but often forgets faith, Cusmano warns the opposite: charity without Christ becomes empty, mere philanthropy. Only the union of Eucharist and service brings full charity to life.

“Do not make any difference,” Cusmano says. With these words he places us at the heart of the Gospel and of Christian spirituality: it is always Jesus. The same Christ in the consecrated Host is present in the hungry, in the sick, in the prisoner, in the one who suffers.

May our lives become one single act of adoration: at the altar and before our brothers and sisters, with one single love, one single care, one single reverence.