The Cost of Indifference: When We Shut Out the Stranger

When we close our doors and avert our eyes, we risk more than mere social awkwardness: we risk silencing Christ Himself. The temptation to live insular lives—cocooned within familiar routines, comfortable friendships and curated newsfeeds—can harden our hearts until the stranger’s need becomes an inconvenience rather than an invitation. From a Catholic standpoint, this withdrawal is no small lapse of etiquette but a serious spiritual danger, for Scripture and tradition insist that God’s face is revealed most powerfully in “the least of these” (Mt 25:40).

Jesus warns us in the Parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus (Lk 16:19–31) that neglecting the poor, the sick and the stranger brings eternal consequences. On the day of judgment those who “gave no drink to the thirsty” and “offered no welcome to the stranger” hear the dread words, “Depart from me” (Mt 25:41–46). Ignoring the stranger is not a neutral act; it is a rejection of Christ Himself, who chose to identify with the marginalised and the outcast.

St Augustine reflects on this scandal of indifference in his Sermons, observing that every human being bears the imprint of the Creator. “If you neglect the sufferings of your brother, you have closed your own pathway to the Father,” he says, reminding us that charity is not optional but the very measure of our discipleship. Augustine insists that to fail in neighbour-love is to place oneself outside the harmony of Trinity-friendship—a dangerous place where our own spiritual sight grows dim.

St Thomas Aquinas develops this further in the Summa Theologiae, teaching that love of neighbour is rooted in love of God, since “what belongs to others is ours to bestow,” for all good gifts are God’s first given to us. When we refuse to share our time, our resources or even our attention, we clog the channels through which God’s mercy flows. Aquinas characterises this refusal as a vice—morbid self-absorption—that robs both giver and receiver of life in Christ.

In our own day, Pope Francis diagnoses a “globalisation of indifference” (Evangelii Gaudium, 54). He laments how “we have learnt to drift apart… we no longer encounter one another, much less recognise ourselves in the other.” This drift corrodes our communities: neighbours become threats, foreign-born families mysterious, the homeless faceless. But Francis exhorts us: “Let us overcome indifference, and rediscover generosity, communion, and solidarity.”

To counter the danger of exclusion, the Church offers us both sacramental and practical antidotes. The Eucharist summons us beyond ourselves: in Communion we receive the Body of Christ and are sent forth to become Christ’s body for others. Likewise, the Rule of St Benedict enshrines hospitality as a sacrament of the Gospel, commanding, “Let all guests who arrive be received like Christ.” Every stranger at our door is Christ knocking for welcome.

How can we live this today? Start with awareness: allow your daily routines to shift whenever you notice need—a tired parent at the school gate, a lone elderly neighbour, a migrant family in your parish. Ask: “Where is Christ inviting me to step out?” Then act, however small the gesture: offer a listening ear, share your shopping, invite someone in for tea. As Blessed Teresa of Calcutta taught, “Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.”

When we open our eyes and hearts to the stranger, we dismantle the walls of indifference brick by brick. In so doing, we rediscover the core of Catholic faith: that God’s mercy is both gift and task, received in silence at the altar and extended in bold simplicity on the street. May we never ignore another human being as if they were invisible, for to do so is to shut Christ Himself outside our very souls.