Ecclesia caritatis
by Fr. Miljenko Steko, OFM
I dare say that this is the power of works such as Mary's Meals – where faith is poured onto a plate and that plate pours out into dignity.
In a world where a man's worth is increasingly measured by the price of his shoes, the number of his followers, or by his spending power, and where market logic has drowned out the quietude of conscience, something remains unaltered – something that burns, yet does not burn up. And that is love in action, not the kind engraved in the stone of basilicas, but the one written in wounds and hands, in beads of sweat and the silence of sacrifice. A Church that shows love in deeds, not only in words – not as the mere idealism of zealous monks from old manuscripts, but as a living, quiet, and persistent reality that weaves like a golden thread through the centuries.
Bearing in mind the many Church documents in which this topic has been discussed with theological depth and pastoral sobriety, I am striving – like a student facing a marvelous painting – to unravel the idea of charity, of love in action.
Charity is not an addition to the Gospel, it is its incarnation. It is here that Christ becomes visible in the act of breaking bread or visiting a sick person, in words spoken with inner attentiveness. It is the love that does not tire, because it does not seek its own.
In the very first days of the Church, when it was being born of the Holy Spirit, when bread was shared and hearts alike, a new form of loving one's neighbour emerged: a communion that does not distinguish between the wealthy and the poor but recognises only brothers and sisters. The Acts of the Apostles testify to this early experience when property was shared, and differences dissolved in the light of the gaze turned to the risen Christ. That was the evangelisation of everyday life. From the choice of seven men "full of the Spirit and wisdom" to the deacon Lawrence who presented the poor to the greedy imperial officers and declared: "Here is the wealth of the Church" – the Church has taught that serving one's neighbour is not about our welfare systems, it is about humble, Christlike acts. Every piece of bread broken in the name of Christ, every visit to a patient in the name of God, is an incarnation of the Beatitudes given to us in the Gospel of our Lord.
We are vividly reminded of this by the words of the late Pope Benedict XVI: charity is not an addition to the Church – it is a part of its genome. And if the Church stopped loving in deed, it would cease to be the Church and would remain an empty shell of spirituality, fit only for museums, but not for people's lives. There is a line in the late Pope's unobtrusive yet spiritually powerful letter Porta fidei: "Faith without charity bears no fruit, while charity without faith would be a sentiment constantly at the mercy of doubt."
Indeed, what good is it if we carry the truth in our heart if it does not move us to open our hand? What is the point of conviction that does not turn into bread, or a confession of faith that does not incite us to visit a patient, or to bring a meal to a hungry person or to forgive someone?
An act of charity is a form of life that springs from faith, from prayer and the Eucharist – this is emphasised in many Church documents. Only the person who has touched Christ's wounded hand knows how to touch the wounds of humanity. This is why a true humanitarian is not merely a social worker but a witness, a mystic of the everyday, a person who sees Christ in the poor, and not their own reflection in the goodness. What a wonderful feeling that is! Have you ever experienced it in your own life?
At a time when some strange global charity work is measured only by its profitability and empathy is delegated to institutions, a person of faith should persevere and – like the Samaritan – approach the one in need without unnecessary questioning of their background and life. Not because he or she is part of a charity, but because the person is part of the Mystical Body of the One who said: "Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me." And we do not need much: only a little ointment for the wounds of the world, and eyes that do not look down on others.
God's love does not seek the stage under the spotlights – it seeks a face. The Holy Scripture does not speak of some romantic ecstasy, but of a commandment: Love the Lord your God... and your neighbour as yourself. (Mark 12:29–31).
These commandments do not exist to remain mere words upon our lips – they must be lived. A heart that does not love God cannot approach fellow man with love either. How can you embrace those you do not understand if you are not yourself understood by the One who embraces you from the Cross?!
To love our neighbour does not merely mean to be good – it means to be God's. This is why God's love takes on the face of the one who stays, who listens, who bears and does not give up. The face of a schoolteacher in Zambia, of a volunteer in Malawi, of a child laughing after a long time because their hunger is finally satisfied. The face of those who provide meals, who share them and do not forget.
I dare say that this is the power of works such as Mary's Meals – where faith is poured onto a plate and that plate pours out into dignity. To feed a child with 13 cents per meal and 22 euros per year is not a luxury, it is acalling. In 16 world countries, every school day, over 2.6 million hungry children receive a nutritious meal in their place of learning, which could be their only meal in a day. This meal is not only food – it is an embodiment of God's Providence.
A child's smile after a plate of phala* under a tree in Malawi – this has no price in earthly calculations. Here, bread is shared with faith. And for the givers in this chain, this is the Gospel of breaking my "self" so that another may learn, live, dream, and smile.
Christian charity is not an idea – it is a decision. A decision not to pass by. A decision to let your hands speak when it is too late for words. A decision to see the face of Christ in every child. And then our gaze is no longer neutral – it calls us to act. Not abstract, but concrete. Because to love also means to feed.
In a world that deals in statements, numbers and doubts, charity speaks with simplicity. Hungry children cannot wait. And we – if we believe – cannot remain silent and do nothing.
Međugorje, a place of tranquility, of Mother's gaze and Her special presence, acts as a guiding light: where Mary whispers "pray, fast, love", a new face of the faithful is born in the Church. They are taught by Our Lady how to show love in deeds. This is why concrete works such as Mary's Meals are not "projects" – they are responses. Responses to God's invitation that still resounds: "You give them something to eat."
The spirituality of Međugorje has given birth to so many converts whose hearts do not turn a blind eye, whose hands are not afraid of getting tired, whose faith that does not fear to become bread. It is a spirituality that touches the most concrete: the hungry mouth, the sweaty brow, the bruised knees. A spirituality born in prayer and fasting; when the body is silent, the heart speaks: "Go and do likewise!"
Go, and think no longer about how you look, but how you love. Go, and share not your leftovers, but yourself. Go – and give yourself, as He has given Himself.
*The local name given to the vitamin-enriched corn-soya blend porridge served by Mary’s Meals in Malawi
Fr. Miljenko Steko is the guardian of the Antonianum International Institute in Rome. Fr Miljenko was the President of the UFME - the Union of the Minor Brothers of Europe with headquarters in Brussels. Until 2022, he served as the Provincial of the Herzegovinian Franciscan Province of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary in which Medjugorje is situated.