Recently, I attended the St Francis in the City Street Retreat hosted by Michael McGirr, Mission Facilitator of Caritas Australia, and presented by Catholic Social Services Victoria in fellowship with Caritas. The retreat, beginning with Mass at St Francis’s Church, Lonsdale Street, Melbourne city, offered an opportunity to reflect on the example of St Francis of Assisi, and to experience the world around us in a different light - an opportunity to see the CBD of Melbourne through ‘new eyes’, inspired by the way of St Francis. I happened to be joined by fellow Marists, Eamonn Pollard (Association Member) and Cecelia Davies (Marist Youth Ministry Regional Assistant in the Melbourne office). And a special, overseas guest joined us briefly - Martha Hennessy (granddaughter of Dorothy Day), who shared some insights.
The following is a reflection on the retreat, and what it means to be ‘the stranger’ and finding God’s grace.
“Most High, all-powerful, all-good Lord, all praise is yours, all glory, honour and blessings. We praise you Lord for all your creatures.”
Alien. Foreign. Grungy. Noisy.
Never still.
Where is the still point?
The smells. Overwhelming. Unpleasant.
Fumes. Petrol. Diesel. Food. Oils. Scents.
This is the city.
I have been absent for a while. Instead, enjoying coastal. Rural. Peaceful. Open friendliness. Open fields.
Why is the city so different? Why do humans behave differently in different environments?
Is God everywhere? Or only somewhere?
Enclosed space. Tall, imposing buildings. Dwarfing older, historic ones.
Cold shadows. Blocking the sun’s light, its warmth.
Trams. Old ones. New ones. Cars. Delivery trucks. Motorbikes. Cyclists.
Movement. Onwards. Horns tooting. Bells ringing. Angry tram drivers.
The sounds are a symphony. Bang-a-bang-bang. Crash. Ring. Ding. Music. Voices.
People. So many of them. Walking. Running. Hurrying. Strolling.
Kept in straight lanes by crossings, lights, signals, directions. Clockwork. A ceaseless flow. North. South. East. West.
Jeans. Dresses. Chinos. Shorts. T-shirts. Blouses. Coats. Hats. Caps. Jackets. Ties.
Who are they?
Friends. Families. Colleagues. Acquaintances. Mothers scolding children. Workmates gossiping. Friends planning. Strangers passing.
Different languages. Yawns. Smiles. Frowns. Concentration. Openness.
Touching. Avoiding. Not even noticing.
Sitting on the steps, no one particularly notices me. Occasional glances. But that’s all.
A sudden thought!
Am I a stranger?? ‘The’ Stranger?
Aren’t they the strangers?
I don’t know any of them.
Them. Other. Separate from me.
Where is God?
Then - a revelation…
If I knew them, I’d know them.
So, what does it take?
Just one brief exchange. That’s all.
One shared look. Eye contact. An acknowledgment. Of each other. Strangers no longer.
We know something now. We know each other.
The eyes are the window to the soul.
Whose soul? My soul? Their soul? Or the One Soul?
Being strangers is a construct of the mind.
Just one look, one exchange. And there is no stranger.
Just knowing.
Just beauty.
Just God.
And His Grace.
Alive.
Good.
Present.
I’d like to thank Michael McGirr for facilitating the retreat, his team and CSSV and Caritas. Also, my fellow retreatants and the good city of Melbourne!
Tracey Doublet
Communications Officer
Marist Association of St Marcellin Champagnat
Melbourne Marists
