Among the many forms of poverty that emerge from the experience of Saint Vincent de Paul, there is one that is less visible yet profoundly decisive: the poverty of mission workers. This is not a lack of financial resources or facilities, but something even more delicate: the scarcity of men willing to bring the Gospel to the poor.

In the later pages of his correspondence, this theme emerges with increasing clarity. Requests are mounting, needs are multiplying, and the mission fields are expanding. Yet there are still too few workers. There are not enough missionaries to respond to everything. It is impossible to reach everywhere. Some missions must be postponed, others scaled back, and still others entrusted to a handful of men who are already overburdened.

This situation is not a minor one. It is a genuine form of poverty, because it strikes at the very heart of the mission: the proclamation of the Gospel to the poor depends on real people, on men who are willing, trained, ready to set out and to give of themselves.

St Vincent experiences this lack with great realism. He does not hide it, he does not minimise it, he does not spiritualise it in a superficial way. He knows full well that without workers, many souls will remain without guidance, many communities without a mission, many poor people without spiritual comfort. He feels the weight of this responsibility, and never ceases to seek solutions, to send those he can, to organise the available resources as best he can.

Yet, amidst this poverty, he does not allow himself to be overcome by discouragement.

Here one of the deepest aspects of his spirituality emerges. The scarcity of labourers does not become a reason for withdrawal, but an opportunity for purification. It compels him to discern, to choose, not to scatter his energies. It prevents the mission from becoming a mere quantitative expansion. And above all, it reminds him of an essential truth: the fruitfulness of the mission does not depend on numbers, but on fidelity.

It is a radical perspective. In a context where needs are immense, it would be natural to think that more people, more structures, and more organisation are needed. And all this is true. But St Vincent goes deeper: what really matters is not having many labourers, but having faithful labourers, rooted in the Gospel, capable of giving themselves without reserve.

This conviction changes the way we view scarcity. The shortage of vocations is not merely a limitation to be endured, but also a call to rediscover what is essential. When there are few labourers, every missionary becomes more precious, every gesture more significant, every presence more intense. The mission becomes focused, purified, and rooted.

There is also another, very practical aspect. The scarcity of workers forces us to make choices. We cannot respond to every request. We cannot be everywhere. This means accepting that some needs will remain, at least for a time, unmet. It is one of the most difficult tests of charity: not being able to help everyone.

St Vincent does not shy away from this tension. He does not offer easy solutions. He does not say that everything will be resolved. He remains within this struggle, seeking to direct efforts where the need is most urgent, where a presence can bear the most fruit. It is a charity that knows how to choose, even when choosing means letting go.

In this sense, the scarcity of workers also becomes a school of freedom. It frees us from the pretence of controlling everything, of responding to everything, of resolving everything. It brings the mission back to its deepest truth: to be a collaboration with God’s work, not a replacement for it.

This reflection is surprisingly relevant today. Even now, in many places, the Church is experiencing a decline in vocations, a struggle to find workers for the mission, and a mismatch between needs and available resources. The temptation is one of discouragement or withdrawal.

St Vincent points to a different path. He does not deny the difficulty, but invites us to experience it as an opportunity to rediscover the heart of the mission. Not everything depends on us. Not everything can be done. But what is done can be lived with a deeper evangelical quality.

Ultimately, this poverty brings us back to a decisive question: on what is the mission truly founded? If it is founded on numbers, then scarcity is a defeat. But if it is founded on fidelity, then even a few workers can become instruments of great fruitfulness.

And this is perhaps the greatest lesson that emerges from these pages: when workers are lacking, the mission does not stop. It changes its face, becoming more essential, more humble, more true. And in this very way, paradoxically, it can become even more evangelical.