A faith for the hunger of the world

Two or three years ago, I was speaking about Project Compassion in a parish near the eastern end of the Archdiocese. The church, which seemed about 50 years old, was beautiful, as was the community that gathered there. I was grateful that such a space existed in a suburb that was home to enormous structures such as Bunnings, Officeworks, Super Cheap Auto and a good many others.

I have nothing against such places, but I can’t imagine that much imagination or, dare I say, love had gone into the design of those huge barns. The church was different, and it lifted my heart. There is more to life than DIY.

I am lucky enough that the office of Caritas Australia is right beside St Patrick’s Cathedral, a place that means a great deal to me as it does to so many others. Every day I am in the office, I try to spend at least five or ten minutes in the Cathedral, sitting with the Lord and asking for the grace to do what God asks of me.

The spirituality of Caritas Australia, like so much of the Catholic story, starts at the foot of the cross. It is born of sacrifice.

The Cathedral is made of blue stone from the great basalt plain of western Victoria. Sometimes, sitting inside, I feel I am receiving a warm hug from the earth, even on a cold day. Archbishop Frank Little, who worked in and around St Patrick’s for decades, once told me that he never set foot inside the Cathedral without being challenged by its beauty and the vision it embodies.

When I visited the parish about 25 kilometres away, I also felt comforted by its light and space and by what Evelyn Waugh describes at the end of his novel Brideshead Revisited as ‘a small red flame’, which for centuries has indicated our faith in the reality of Christ among us.

After Mass, a woman approached me. We got talking. She was a single mum, and her child had special needs; it was hard for her to make ends meet on social security. Her daily treat was a $1 coffee from the service station, which, I believe, has since gone up to $2. She gave me $5 for the work of Project Compassion, saying she wanted to give up her coffee for a week to help people in such dire need as the ones with whom Caritas Australia has walked closely for 60 years.

I was touched and, again, grateful. The spirituality of Caritas Australia, like so much of the Catholic story, starts at the foot of the cross. It is born of sacrifice. In the four years I have been working for Caritas, no fewer than seven of our colleagues in Caritas Internationalis have been killed following their vocation of loving service. Two in Ukraine, two in Gaza and two in Ethiopia as they were trying to secure safe passage of water to those dying of thirst. Last month, our leader in the Democratic Republic of Congo, Dieudonne, was also murdered.

At the same time, we have been supported by people such as Nic, who died last Christmas at an advanced age, having walked with us for 50 years. Every year, he gave us the money with which he might otherwise have been able to afford private health insurance. He did so because he had grown up in a poor village in Italy and did not want to see children experience the poverty in which he had grown up.

It is our hunger for God that brings us to the Eucharist. As God feeds us with his very self, we try to feed God’s people wherever they may be.

All these things are on my mind and fill my heart as I take up the position of Archdiocesan Director for Caritas Australia, the prospect of which makes my spirit sing. I very much appreciate the support and encouragement of Archbishop Comensoli. I am also grateful for the engagement of so many schools and parishes whom we help in our small way to tell the Catholic story of God’s love.

I first encountered Project Compassion when I was in Year 2 preparing for my first Communion. This was the year when Armstrong walked on the moon, which rather gives away my age. Sister put the Project Compassion box on her table and announced that nobody would be making their Communion until the box was full. I am pleased to say that this sister, like most nuns in my experience, knew more than her prayers. Every couple of days she took the box back to her convent and emptied most of the coins. So the box was never full. It was like the magic pudding in reverse!

I learnt something important. In preparing us for our first Communion, Sister recognised there was a close connection between the Eucharist and our call to a faith that does justice. Speaking at the Eucharistic Congress in Philadelphia as long ago as 1976, Fr Pedro Arrupe, the former leader of the Jesuits, urged us never to forget the ‘social dimension’ of the Eucharist. Then, as now, the world was confronted by famine:

Let us think only of those who are going to die of starvation today … And if, at the end of our discussions on ‘the Eucharist and the Hunger for Bread’, as we left the hall, we had to pick our way through this mass of dying bodies, how could we claim that our Eucharist is the Bread of Life?

It is our hunger for God that brings us to the Eucharist. As God feeds us with his very self, we try to feed God’s people wherever they may be. Thank you for supporting our mission.

I look forward to working with the wide range of communities in the Archdiocese of Melbourne and visiting as many as possible. Please let me know if I can help in any way. My email is Michael.McGirr@caritas.org.au.