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:

Let us revive our faith in Jesus, poor and suffering, who regards as done to Himself what we do to the Little Poor. Let us rekindle our charity. Jesus wants it! Indeed, He says: ‘I have come to bring the fire of charity, and I desire nothing else than that it be kindled in every heart! … This is my commandment: that you love one another as I have loved you.’

—Giacomo Cusmano, Boccone spirituale, October 10.

Commentary:

Blessed Giacomo Cusmano addresses us with urgent clarity: revive faith and rekindle charity. These are not two parallel tracks but a single evangelical movement. Faith without charity cools into ideas … charity without faith runs out of breath. Cusmano’s call gathers both into one flame that burns with the very life of Christ.

Cusmano begins where the Gospel begins: with Jesus poor and suffering. The One we believe in is not a distant sovereign unfazed by human pain. He is the Son who chose poverty, touched wounds, and carried a cross. To “revive our faith toward Jesus” means learning again and again to meet Him where He told us He would be: among the last and the least. That is why Cusmano immediately recalls the Lord’s solemn identification with the needy—“whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me” (cf. Mt 25).

Faith revived is not merely sharper notions about God; it is a keener recognition of Christ’s real presence in places we might prefer to avoid—illness, fragility, loneliness, marginalization. If I want to measure the temperature of my faith, I must look at the temperature of my love for these brothers and sisters. Where my faith grows warm, my steps move toward them; where it grows cold, I hesitate, excuse myself, and pass by.

“I have come to bring fire,” Jesus says (cf. Lk 12:49). Cusmano dares to name that fire explicitly as the fire of charity. Fire purifies: it burns away dross—the self-absorption, vanity, and grudges that keep love from flowing. Fire illumines: it helps us see persons where we had only seen problems. Fire warms: it draws the chilled heart out of indifference into tenderness and courage. Fire unites: a single flame can light many candles without losing itself, and a community set ablaze communicates heat and light far beyond what any one of us can offer alone.

Christ brings this flame. Our task is to expose our hearth to His spark and to feed it. If we sense interior chill—routine in prayer, fatigue in service—the remedy is not to scold ourselves but to draw nearer to the Source, the Lord who longs to kindle us again.

Cusmano pairs the Lord’s fire with His new commandment: “This is my commandment: that you love one another as I have loved you” (cf. Jn 13:34; 15:12). The standard is not “as much as I can manage,” nor “as people deserve,” but as Christ loves. How does He love?

• Nearness: He bends down to wash feet and sits at table with sinners.
• Mercy: He forgives from the cross and restores those who denied Him.
• Costliness: He gives time, strength, reputation, and life. Love that costs nothing rarely changes anything; love that costs something participates in the saving logic of the cross.

Cusmano’s realism is pastoral. If Jesus desires the flame to burn, why do our hearts feel cold? Four common dampeners:

• Ash of routine: duty without desire. Remedy: thanksgiving. Naming daily gifts turns duty into response; gratitude is dry tinder for love.
• Moisture of fear: What if I fail, am misled, am used? Remedy: compassion with prudence. Start with relational, accountable settings. Courage grows with healthy structures.
• Gusts of distraction: constant noise scatters attention. Remedy: brief daily silence—ten minutes of undistracted presence before the Lord.
• Stones of resentment: old injuries crowd the hearth. Remedy: forgiveness. Name the hurt to God, ask for the will to forgive, bless the other in prayer. The flame needs space.

Cusmano’s intuition is profoundly Eucharistic. At Mass, Christ gives Himself as food. We answer “Amen,” and that Amen seeks a second fulfillment: to carry the Gift to the places where He awaits us. The movement is circular: from altar to street, from street back to altar. Service safeguards worship from becoming disembodied, and worship safeguards service from becoming activism that forgets why it loves.

“Jesus wants it,” Cusmano says—not as a threat but as good news. Christ wants our hearts to burn because burning hearts are joyful hearts. This joy is not superficial cheerfulness; it is the steady warmth of knowing we are living in tune with the Lord’s own desire.

A single coal glows; a pile burns. Charity thrives in community. Parishes, associations, religious families—these are places where gifts are shared, burdens distributed, and perseverance sustained. Set simple norms: start small and regular, review together, celebrate the little victories, learn from mistakes. Communities that warm the poor also warm their members; they become visible signs of the Kingdom’s heat in neighborhoods that have grown cold.

Cusmano dares to put words on Jesus’ desire: that the fire be kindled in every heart. Not only in the naturally generous, not only in the well-resourced, not only in the healthy or the young. For some, charity will be hands-on care; for others, steady intercession; for others still, competent leadership, legal advocacy, teaching, or generous giving. The Lord does not compare flames; He rejoices that the wood He has given each of us is offered to His fire.

So let us take up Cusmano’s double imperative. Revive faith in Jesus poor and suffering and rekindle charity. The world’s night is real, but the Night is precisely where light matters.