What makes these communities strong is not their size or their wealth. It is the trust people place in each other, a shared sense of what is owed to a neighbor, and a willingness to show up when someone is in need without waiting to be asked. — Andy Barton

What do we owe to the poor?

That question underlies much of our current political and social discourse. We ask it — perhaps subconsciously — when we encounter someone on a street corner asking for money, when we drive through struggling neighborhoods, or when we read about the human impact of government shutdowns or freezes on benefit payments. How we answer the question of what we owe our poor reveals something profound about our understanding of charity and justice.

To this day, I can recall watching “Predators of the Mara,” a rerun of “Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom,” on a quiet Sunday afternoon in the early 1980s. In that episode, a cheetah chases down and kills a young wildebeest. It is a remarkably brutal scene of struggle for the wildebeest to get free from the cat’s jaws locked on its neck. The horror I felt as I watched one animal kill another was tempered only by the calming voice of Marlin Perkins, who explained that the herd was ultimately stronger because predators in the Maasai Mara National Reserve helped to cull the sick and the weak. This was natural selection — survival of the fittest.

Over 10 years ago, as I was preparing to come to work for Catholic Charities, a friend suggested I read “Evangelii Gaudium” (The Joy of the Gospel), Pope Francis’ first apostolic exhortation. In those pages, I found not only an articulation of Catholic Social Teaching that would provide the practical foundation for the work of Catholic Charities, but also the honest voice of love and mercy that Pope Francis brought to the world. In that way, he has always felt like a guide in this work, and, like so many, I am deeply saddened by his passing.