Dear Inner Circle,

A huddle of three men in our café invited me to join their table while they solved all the world’s problems in thirty minutes. Each of these fellows were either sleeping rough or in a less than ideal boarding house. Each had more than their fair share of issues coming from difficult histories. I stepped into a discussion about the American presidential race. We were four old wise men who really knew that our opinion counted for nothing but who never-the-less were genuinely concerned. Two of the three were surprisingly well informed. All three thought that Donald Trump was a buffoon and yet all three were convinced that he will be elected to the high office. One fellow could articulate a sense of “ordinary people don’t trust government any more”. I think it is the heart of the issue.

In 1247 an English noble established a priory (a place of prayer) and called it Saint Mary’s of Bethlehem. The idea was that someone would be praying for the nobleman while he was off fighting battles. Over a couple of hundred years, the priory became a place that cared for the mentally ill. In all of London there were never more than about 20 people who were mentally ill to the extent of needing residential care. When Henry VIII declared himself to be the head of the church and abolished all the monasteries around England, a deep cultural shake took place. It was said in those days that a peasant could walk a day in any direction and find a monastery that would give them shelter and minister to them some soup (hence ‘minestrone soup’). Within just a few years, all the monasteries were gone, sold to the English rich and making Henry the wealthiest monarch in Europe. Saint Mary’s of Bethlehem started to burst at the seams as hundreds of people could no longer cope in a world where the foundations had eroded. Saint Mary’s of Bethlehem became, “Bethlehem”, which became “Bethlem”, which finally became “Bedlam”, which is where this word...[read more]

Dear Inner Circle,

Time for some straight talking. Some religions have demonstrated a propensity for violence. All religions long for peace but some have a history, so consistently violent, that it’s hard to deny an inboard inclination to torture and slaughter. In most cases, the fiercest violence was inflicted not upon other religions but upon sects and groups of people from within their own religion. I speak of course, of Christianity.

For three hundred years, Christianity had no power to persecute anyone. They were an irritant around the Roman Empire and were themselves the object of persecution. Everything changed when the Emperor Constantine converted to Christianity, believing this God had delivered for him victory in a battle at Milvian Bridge. Suddenly it was cool to be Christian if you wanted to do business in the Roman Empire. In due course it was not just cool, but compulsory. From this moment on, the Church showed great interest in correcting those with flawed understanding. Enthusiasm for the correcting process may have been fuelled by the constant confiscation of the land and goods of the “corrected”.

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Dear Inner Circle,

Someone tapped me on the shoulder and pointed out a bloke in the café who was keen to talk to me. My hearing is not good and when there is a lot of background noise, my hearing is dreadful. Just to make things most complex, the man who wanted to talk to me had a speech impediment. We had a whole conversation where my contribution was almost entirely based on non-verbal indicators. He wouldn’t have been 40 years old but I looked into a face that had lived about 80 hard years. It was a rather beautiful face and he smiled a lot, revealing yellow teeth, stained from years of smoking and less than ideal oral hygiene. Using all my capacity to read grunts and husky noises that looked like language, it seems the man is Brisbane based. He had spent most of his life on the streets of Sydney and had returned this week because two of his old mates from the street had died in the one week. His move to Brisbane had enabled him to stop drinking altogether. An amazing feat. The man was clearly sober although I think he formed his words like he was drunk. Perhaps years without any sober moments had actually given him his speech defect. The whole time we were talking, he formed a pile of tobacco out of a pouch and carefully pulled it apart, I think to eliminate lumps. The process happened over and over again and not one single strand of tobacco was lost while we were talking. Many years ago when I was a chaplain at Parramatta Prison, I smoked a pipe with plumb flavoured tobacco. I thought at the time that it smelled rather nice. I can’t remember anything smelling as vile as this tobacco yesterday. At the end of our conversation, I was ready for a shower. After about 20 minutes, I hugged the man and said, “Well, your two mates are dead and you’re alive and sober. Whatever you’re doing, I think you should keep doing it.” As I walked away, the smile on the man’s face was worth a million dollars. I’m so glad to have met him even though most of my...[read more]

Dear Inner Circle,

On the footpath yesterday as I approached our building, a young man and woman welcomed me into their conversation. Although the man is homeless, you’d be hard pressed to find a more positive person among the entrepreneurs and “go getting” young business people anywhere in this city. The young woman is an arrestingly beautiful yet shy person. We were then joined by a fourth person, a woman not known to me or to either of the young people. The young fellow shared his name and then the young woman said, “Hi, my name is Gretel – as in Hansel and Gretel.” The lovable bloke said, “Yeah, I’ve been leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for Gretel but she won’t follow me.” “Yeah,” she said quietly and with wisdom beyond her years, “That’s because I’m not living in a fairy tale”.

Robyn and I had the joy of two of our grandchildren for the weekend. Grandma and Aunty took Miss 11 to a crochet class while Miss 9 spent some time with me. We ended up at Luna Park where I went on a pile of rides that a bloke my age should not have to endure. My beautiful girl had a lot of fun and I finished the day with a sore neck and back. Naturally, I’d do it again in a heartbeat because a grandparent’s job is nothing other than to create a happy memory. Next time I’m with Miss 9 however, I’m going to take her somewhere where we can get mugged and robbed. It would achieve a similar outcome without the need to wait in queues.

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Dear Inner Circle,

Surprises abound at Wayside. Some of the loveliest things happen in a way that is quite out of order. Luckily people are generally not problems to be solved but people to be met and so often the least likely turns out to be the wisest. It’s why at our little Sunday morning church service we adore the little lady we call, Saint Interruptus. She and I have become something of a double act. Once I noticed that we were running a little over time and so I said, “I’ll pick up the pace here, I don’t want to bore you.” “Bore us!” she said, “That’s your job!” Sunday just gone a dark-skinned Aboriginal man decided unannounced to play us his didgeridoo. He stepped up to the altar and rested his didge near a microphone. It was an incredibly beautiful and moving gift he made for us. The dear Uncle however, had some time ago, had his own precious didge stolen, so on Sunday he played on a pipe from a vacuum cleaner. It may have been the first retractable didgeridoo in 40,000 years to be played in this country. A couple who had been with us that day, showed up on Tuesday this week with a brand new didgeridoo. When I gave it to our dear Uncle he melted in my arms and wept for some time. There is a good chance this Sunday that the happiest Aborigine in Australia will lead us in devotion with his beautiful new didgeridoo. We’re not much like a church but it works for those who are not much like Christians.

You’ve heard me talk about Wayside’s expansion to Bondi Beach a few times over the past year and I’m happy to tell you that from 1 July 2016, this will officially become a permanent arrangement. Chapel by the Sea in Bondi Beach will come under the governance and management of The Wayside Chapel and as of tomorrow, we are one strong organisation serving the community in multiple locations. This means that Wayside has full governance and management responsibility of the Community Services Centre at Norman Andrews House and the...[read more]

Dear Inner Circle,

Here is a cracker of a story. We are surrounded by angels. Some of our supporters set aside money so that they can jump in when the circumstances are extraordinary and when the need is way beyond anything Wayside could do. Years ago, one of these angels told me he would be willing to pay the rent on a flat for a year if I knew someone for whom it would make all the difference. A man who had lived on the street and in the grip of alcoholism was showing the early signs of transformation. He’d stopped asking, “What can you give me?” and started to ask, “How can I help?”. It’s always a sure sign of a miracle on its way. Our dear angel paid a year’s rent and that man is free today of his alcoholism and flourishing in a job that he loves. Amazing? Absolutely! This week that same angel did the same thing for another fellow who I judged to be a good bet. This morning I looked into the face of a man whose physical features had changed overnight because he’d slept in his own bed in his own place. He was in today seeking help to enroll in a course that has a good chance of seeing him into employment. The transformation has begun not just because of a physical room to call his own, but because someone believed in him and was prepared to back him in this way. Amazing? Totally!

“My cup runneth over” is a phrase our past Governor used to say to me regularly. If you’ve ever met Dame Marie Bashir, you’ve had a brush with grace. Every time I see Dame Marie, she expresses her gratitude and awe for something or someone. I was in our lift once with Dame Marie and an Aboriginal women got in with us. Dame Marie said, “Every time I meet a woman such as you, I just want to say, ‘thank you, thank you, thank you.’” Well my cup runneth over too. Today I spoke with a high profile person who regularly does a shift on our front desk. He’s the last person in this city you’d expect to see taking people for showers or finding changes of...[read more]

Dear Inner Circle,

A little card, not much bigger than a postage stamp, which read, “To my darling daughter. Happy first birthday. Love from Dad”, was all that a young woman had from her father. She is 22 years old now and recently discovered that the father she had not seen since she was a little girl had recently died. All she had were lots of questions and an ache for connection. She discovered her father had a connection to Wayside and went to some trouble to make contact with me. In last week’s note I anticipated a meeting which took place last Friday evening. Am I the luckiest man in the world? It was holy ground where I spoke for hours about the Dad she didn’t know. I assured her that her father was a good man who was well loved and who made a wonderful difference to our community. I presented her with a “book” that he had written to her. There were perhaps 20,000 words written by a man who was largely illiterate but who sat with a one of our volunteers for hundreds of hours in order to leave behind a record of his love for his little girl. Our volunteer has since moved out of Sydney and I worried whether I still had a connection to tell her this story. Thankfully, she is still in this inner circle and she made contact with me on Saturday. She said that she barely hoped to believe that one day the daughter would have all this work in her hands and be able to receive this gift of love. Thank you Fran. You are truly an angel from heaven.

A man who has lived in his car with a little dog for a year was allocated housing this week. What a difference a day makes. This is a softly spoken man who actually asks nothing of anyone. He is a proud man whose sense of independence has seen him struggle but survive and even thrive through a life that had few, if any, free kicks. He has the most devoted little dog in the world. He could command his dog to stay and walk away for the day and be certain that the dog would be waiting for him. He looks like he...[read more]

Dear Inner Circle,

The most adorable three-year-old in the world was playing with my phone yesterday. She asked if I could find some pictures of Grandma. I started flicking through the photos on my phone and we came across one where I was wearing my alb and stole at a wedding. This dear little girl had never seen me dressed this way and it startled her a bit. “Ooh! Are you Captain Feathersword?” she asked.

It’s not hard to resent the phone at times and yet it often ushers me into the most important moments. A man called me this morning from his hospital bed. “This is it Graham, I’ve had enough”. He spends three days of every week undergoing dialysis. While his life is absorbed with this never ending exercise to stay alive, his wife has left him, and his children have been removed from his care. He told me that he can’t fight all of these battles and be chained to a dialysis machine for half of his life. “How long will you live if you stop this treatment?” I asked. I could hear that he must be in the presence of some medical people and they prompted him to give the answer, “days”. I so get it. I don’t judge this bloke. I’m not sure what I’d do in his situation and I offer no judgement. If he goes, I’ll be at his bedside as he passes. I think he’s had enough and I respect his choice.

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Dear Inner Circle,

A good mate sent me a text this morning to say that he’d found a homeless man near where he lives and offered him a perfectly good doona so that he could be warm at night. The homeless man refused the offer by saying, “Sorry mate. I’m downsizing!”

First thing yesterday I spoke to a hundred or so Year 12 boys at a large Catholic school. I don’t normally do this kind of thing because there are others here at Wayside that would do a much better job. The teacher who invited me could ask me to speak at the South Pole and I’d grab a jumper and be off. I first met her when she was the eldest of five children, homeless because of unthinkable domestic violence. I found refuge accommodation for the family and in due course assisted in finding public housing. This senior teacher was just 13 years old when we first met. The battle she had just to do her homework would have discouraged anyone. On the day she enrolled in university, I was by her side to support her. On her graduation day, I was there taking the part of a proud father. I performed her wedding ceremony and baptised her child. Is there any man on earth who knows such blessing? She’s now around 40 years old and to see this competent, respected, senior teacher yesterday was such a special thing. She introduced me to the school and I hesitated for a minute, waiting for Jesus to enter the room. What a wonderful day.

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Dear Inner Circle,

Our morning began with tears today. One of our visitors, an intelligent young man, full of promise, met a sudden end. We don’t know the full circumstances around his death, although we knew of a difficult struggle with mental health and substance abuse. On hearing the news this morning, a couple of our senior people stood in our lift quietly, weeping. Our lift was an awesome place this morning. I assured our people that their contribution to Wayside and to life was not just made by what they do but by who they are. These two didn’t just lose a client. The young man wasn’t an interesting “case”. The tears came because they had lost a brother. Precious tears. Precious people.

If you’re in Sydney you might be interested to pop into Wayside tonight. The Gyuto Monks of Tibet will be visiting with us. The monks are world famous and they keep a tradition that is more than 600 years old. They will lead us in a guided meditation and blessing with a chanting ceremony. There will be a session of Q&A that I will lead. Everyone is welcome although we will ask for a donation that will be split between the monks and Wayside. Seating is limited to the number we can safely sit in our hall so I’d appreciate it if you could email maxine.schellhorn@thewaysidechapel.com to let us know you’re coming.

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