Charity and Religious Freedom, By J.M de Prada, published in Spanish in the spanish newspaper ABC and in the site "Religión en libertad", June 12, 2026. Translated INS.
Christ explicitly rejects being reduced to a mere provider of material welfare; His charity is always directed toward conversion.
ABSTRACT. The article argues that Leo XIV’s statements on immigration reaffirm classic principles of the Church’s social doctrine—welcoming those in need, protecting national borders, and respecting the right of people to remain in their homeland—but that their practical application requires prudential judgment. The author contends that Christian charity cannot be reduced to material assistance alone; it must also encompass a spiritual and evangelizing dimension. He concludes that the modern conception of religious freedom hinders the full integration of assistance, faith, and conversion that authentic Christian charity requires.
ARTICLE:
The speeches that Pope Leo XIV has given us [in Spain during the first week of June 2026] on the pressing issue of immigration have been admirable, even though the usual pettiness of our ruling class has sought to divert their clear waters toward its own murky and malodorous mills. It is evident to anyone not bewildered by the demagogic agitation stirred up by various ideological interests that the Pope’s speeches set forth enduring moral principles, but do not descend into their concrete application, which requires demanding prudential judgments.
The Church’s social doctrine has always recognized the right of every person to emigrate, a right that is subsidiary to the “right to a family living space in one’s place of origin.” Pope Leo has merely reiterated this teaching when he stated that “there is a right to seek refuge, but first there is a right to remain in one’s own home.”
Likewise, the Pope has reminded us that Christian charity admits no partiality; yet he has also acknowledged that “a State’s duty to protect its borders must be balanced with the moral obligation to provide refuge.” All these principles can likewise be found in the teachings of Leo XIII and Pius XII. The difference is that when Leo XIII and Pius XII proclaimed them, they addressed a world in which those emigrating were predominantly Catholics—Italians and Irish, Poles and Spaniards—moving to countries with Protestant majorities. Today, by contrast, people of the most diverse religious beliefs migrate to a country such as Spain, once Catholic and now largely apostate.
Yet the circumstance that makes the prudent application of these enduring principles more difficult today is not so much the radically different nature of contemporary migration as the place of so-called “religious freedom” within the universal mandate of charity. Christian charity, which requires feeding the hungry and sheltering the stranger, first and foremost requires making the hungry and the stranger disciples of Christ, in accordance with Jesus’ explicit and repeated command. But “religious freedom” makes the fulfillment of this command highly problematic, leaving Christian charity incomplete or diminished, reduced almost exclusively to the corporal works of mercy. Thus we see how a principle originally conceived in opposition to Christianity (as a means of gently de-Christianizing Christian societies), and later adopted tactically by the Church (so that the Catholic faith would not be persecuted in countries where it was a minority), ultimately makes the full realization of the universal mandate of charity impossible.
A charity that is not fully realized becomes a parody of that mandate—a dreadful philanthropy or globalist solidarity that amounts to little more than capitulation to secular thought, which desires a Church useful to the world but incapable of fostering genuine “integration.” Jesus is fully aware of this danger, for He always integrates the corporal and spiritual works of mercy, giving primacy to the latter.
A clear example is found in the multiplication of the loaves. Before feeding the five thousand gathered around Him, Jesus first took pity on them “because they were like sheep without a shepherd,” and “He began to teach them many things” (Mk 6:34). The food served as support for a prior discipleship; it was not merely a social meal for anonymous passersby. And when the crowd sought Him again the next day solely because they had eaten their fill, Jesus rebuked them: “You are looking for me ... because you ate the loaves and were satisfied. Work ... for the food that endures to eternal life” (Jn 6:26–27). Christ explicitly rejects being reduced to a mere provider of material welfare; His charity is always directed toward conversion.
It is always the faith of the crippled, the lepers, and the afflicted that precedes Christ’s miraculous action. When the Syrophoenician woman, a pagan, begs Jesus to cast the demons out of her daughter, He replies without ambiguity: “Let the children be fed first. It is not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs” (Mk 7:27). In other words, Jesus reminds her that there exists an ordo amoris that obliges Him to attend first to His own people, who acknowledge God. The woman then gives her admirable response: “Lord, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.” Christ then grants her request and heals her daughter, but only after recognizing in her a personal faith that “integrates” her into the sphere of His grace. The same dynamic appears with other pagans or foreigners: the centurion of Capernaum, the Samaritan leper, and the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well. Christ’s charity is always linked to the conversion of those who receive it.
The parable of the Good Samaritan is often invoked as an example of a charity unconcerned with the religious beliefs of its recipient. Yet the truth is that Samaritans and Jews worshipped the same God and both acknowledged the Mosaic Law. The conflict between them was essentially that of a religious schism—comparable perhaps to the distance between a Catholic and an Orthodox Christian, or even between “pre-conciliar” and “post-conciliar” Catholics—not that of radically different or alien religions. The Samaritan who helps the Jew beaten by robbers has no need to “convert” him, because they already share the same faith. To use this parable to justify a form of charity indifferent to conversion comes dangerously close to an exegetical distortion.
By pointing out this often-overlooked feature of the parable, we do not mean to suggest that the universal mandate of charity should exclude those who profess religions far removed from, or even opposed to, Christianity. But such charity is like ploughing the sea if it does not integrate the spiritual works of mercy, which require making known the One who declared Himself “the way, the truth, and the life.” When this is neglected, genuine integration becomes impossible, as can be seen today in European countries that have welcomed—often under degrading conditions or for purely utilitarian reasons—people who adhere to other religions. In the end, if we are intellectually honest, we must conclude that “religious freedom” is the principal obstacle to charity.