The pilgrimage into faith, hope and love is often long and mysterious, and the path to the end point uncertain. But we journey together, supporting each other along the way.

By Garry Everett

She didn’t have much hope, really, did she?

A single mum with autism. A victim of domestic violence, uprooted from her home and transported across the city to a new house in a developing suburb where she knew no one. A “safe place”.

It was an empty house, nearly as empty as she felt inside her battered body. Her two small sons looked at us with empty eyes, as she explained that they were autistic too.

She didn’t have much hope, but the little she could find was enough to help her dial a number, before the battery on her phone went flat.

As if in another universe, a small group of people sat discussing an age-old line of Scripture: “only three things remain …” The discussion centred on two intersecting tracks.

The first track took the group on a journey to find a better translation than the word “things”. Earlier, they had agreed that “things” was a poor attempt at translation into English. As a word, “things” seemed to lack a sense of agency. They were searching for a word that conveyed purpose, value, even power.

The old alternative of “virtues” had been discarded as conveying something of an ideal, a static state, something yet to be achieved. The group reached a temporary agreement on the term “forces”: impulses to action.

The second path took the group along a journey into whether each term – Faith, Hope and Love – can exist separately on its own merits. The consensus was “probably not”. They thought that the three forces are like the persons of the Trinity.

She was done with force, especially the abusive kind she had endured. Until she broke.

At this moment, as we faced each other, the young family only wanted one thing: someone to care for them as he had never done. For the mum and her little boys, care translated as giving her faith, hope and love. She said nothing; we said nothing. We all felt a growing sense of trust bringing five people into an emerging sense of beginning a long journey together.

She spoke first. “There is no food, no beds, no blankets, and we are so tired.” For the visitors, it was reminiscent of Mary’s words at the wedding feast: “There is no wine.” How would the young mother’s “There is no food” be answered? Could she expect some kind of miracle too?

The pilgrimage into faith, hope and love is often long and mysterious. We never fully understand the forces involved in the choices we make; the corners we turn; the uncertainty of the end point. But we journey together, supporting each other along the way.

It is in Pope Leo’s words: “to build bridges, not walls.”

At present, our poor planet earth is characterised by more walls than bridges. These walls can be competing ideologies that are political, military or sovereign. Each state of walled isolation is jealously guarded; building bridges to others is regarded with suspicion and mistrust.

Those pilgrim fathers who left Plymouth in England to settle in the New World must have been motivated by the thought of building bridges, not only between their home country and the unknown they were facing, but also between themselves and any other humans they might encounter. Part of the pilgrimage is finding new ways to do new things.

She waited for our response. The empty eyes, the empty bellies, the empty house were rallying in support. We knew we could not build bridges for her with words alone. Faith hope and love are verbs, action words, so action it had to be.

Australian society has become an amazing network of government and non-government support agencies, as well as a plethora of small volunteer groups and Church agencies that have a focus on the poor. God bless the outstanding individuals who sometimes, in solo fashion, build a bridge.

No one should be left in the dark, standing alone, and feeling un-cared-for in this country characterised by “the table of plenty”.

At a local level, these agencies, groups and individuals often collaborate as “pilgrims of hope”, thus modelling the indivisibility of the three great “things” or virtues or forces.

She looked at us again, her expression of fear and pain softening into one of eager expectation.

Of course, we could provide food, second-hand beds and covers, clothes and a donated fridge. But, more importantly, we could provide faith, hope and love. It was important to remind ourselves that material goods are only the tangible signs of the support that matters most.

We looked at her … and she smiled. She knew in her heart that someone cared, and that tomorrow would be a new day, with new dreams and new friends to help. Our pilgrimage had begun again.

She looked at us with knowing eyes: Faith, Hope and Love were not just bridges.

They were life.