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:

In your neighbor, whom you have reason to approach in any circumstance, look at the beautiful image of our Jesus! Contemplate it particularly with the eye of Faith, and love it with the most intimate sentiment of your charity, in the person of His Little Poor Ones.

—Giacomo Cusmano, Boccone spirituale, March 10.

Commentary:

These words invite us to look at our neighbor with new eyes—not as a mere human being with limitations but as a bearer of the image of Christ. For Cusmano, every encounter with another person was an opportunity to contemplate Jesus and to love Him in the concrete flesh of the poor.

The message is direct and demanding: “in your neighbor… look at the beautiful image of our Jesus.” The greatness of this affirmation lies in the fact that it sets no conditions. It does not say: look at Jesus in the neighbor you like, in the one who shares your faith, in the one who seems pleasant. He speaks of every neighbor, “whom you have reason to approach in any circumstance.” In other words, there are no exceptions: every person, in misery or in greatness, reflects Christ.

Here we hear the echo of the Gospel of Matthew: “whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me” (Mt 25:40). Cusmano, deeply shaped by this page of the Gospel, never hesitated to affirm that Jesus Himself is hidden in the poor. That is why he calls them “His Little Poor Ones”: they are not simply “the poor,” but Christ’s poor, those who belong to Him in a special way, those He has taken as the sacrament of His presence.

The invitation to “contemplate with the eye of faith” is decisive. Because humanly speaking, it is not always easy to recognize the image of Christ in the marginalized. The poor may appear dirty, sick, foul-smelling, even irritating. They may be a beggar on the street, an immigrant who does not speak our language, an abandoned elderly person, a drug addict who inspires distrust. If we look only with the eyes of the flesh, we may see a burden or a threat. But Cusmano urges us to look with eyes of faith, that is, to go beyond what is visible and to recognize there the mystery of the incarnate God.

This exercise of faith radically transforms our relationship with others because when I see in the poor the image of Jesus, my attitude can no longer be one of condescension or cold philanthropy. True charity arises, which does not limit itself to giving things but gives itself personally. Cusmano speaks of “loving with the most intimate sentiment of your charity.” It is a visceral, affective love that springs from the heart. It is not only about helping, but about allowing oneself to be touched by the other, to truly love, to feel with and for the other.

Giacomo Cusmano was not speaking theoretically. His life was a concrete testimony of this vision. A physician and priest in nineteenth-century Palermo, he lived daily with the pain of misery. He founded the Boccone del Povero not to give isolated alms but to organize a stable system that would allow bread and dignity to be shared. He did so because he saw in each poor person the face of Christ. Witnesses recount that he approached the sick with tenderness, that he caressed abandoned children, that he was moved to tears by the plight of the destitute. His charity was not cold or institutional but incarnate, affective, deeply personal.

The text also highlights something very relevant today: our society, marked by individualism and haste, runs the risk of reducing the neighbor to an object, of seeing him as an obstacle or a resource. Cusmano reminds us that the other is not an object but a living sacrament of Christ. That is why he speaks of the “beautiful image of our Jesus”: the beauty does not lie in outward appearance but in the dignity that flows from being loved by God.

When he exhorts us to “love with the most intimate sentiment of your charity,” he is asking for a love that is born from the depths, that is not only external action but also sincere affection. It is not enough to give bread without tenderness, nor to heal a wound without offering a word of comfort. The poor need to be loved, not only assisted. And this happens when we recognize that Christ Himself is present in them.

Cusmano’s thought is fully in tune with the Vincentian tradition. St. Vincent de Paul said that “the poor are our masters and lords” because they represent Christ. Cusmano, as a good heir of this spirituality, called his disciples to unconditional love, to humble service that arises from faith.

For us today, his words are a challenge. Am I able to look at the beggar I meet on the street as the “beautiful image of Jesus”? Can I contemplate in the wrinkled face of an abandoned elderly person the tenderness of God? Do I recognize in the undocumented immigrant the dignity of a child of God? The eye of faith opens us to a different vision, capable of discovering beauty where others see misery.

In practice, this means transforming the way we relate. It is not enough to give alms automatically; it is about establishing human contact. A smile, a kind word, a patient listening may be more valuable than coins. Cusmano understood that true love is expressed in closeness and tenderness.

Moreover, this text of his invites us to cultivate a spirituality of the gaze. In the Bible, to look has a deep meaning: it means to recognize, to welcome, to enter into relationship. God Himself looks at man with compassion, and that gaze saves. When I look at my neighbor with eyes of faith, I share in God’s own gaze. I learn to see not only what is in front of me but what is behind: a beloved child, an image of Christ.

The final message is clear: to love the poor is not optional, it is a condition of Christian life. We cannot say that we love God if we despise or ignore His Little Poor Ones. The poor are the privileged place of encounter with Christ. There the authenticity of our faith is tested.

For this reason, Cusmano’s spirituality is profoundly relevant. In a world where inequality is growing, where millions live in poverty and exclusion, his words resound as a prophetic call. It is not only about organizing social works but about changing the heart, about learning to see and love in a new way. If Christians lived this, the face of the Church would be different: more credible, more evangelical, more human.

The life of Giacomo Cusmano shows us that this path is possible. He knew how to discover Jesus in the poor of Palermo and gave his life for them. Today, his disciples continue to do so in many parts of the world. His example inspires us to ask ourselves: who are Christ’s “Little Poor Ones” around me? What concrete faces invite me to love with intimate charity?

Ultimately, the text places before us a spiritual and practical challenge: to look at our neighbor with eyes of faith, to recognize in him the beautiful image of Jesus, and to love him with tenderness. If we live this, our Christian life will cease to be an empty rite and will become a real encounter with the Lord.