When you join a religious order there are lots of things you expect: a timetable, common prayer, study, a habit and so on. But there’s one aspect of Dominican life that was quite unknown to me when I received the habit 10 years ago: regular contact with men and women on the margins of society, especially the homeless and addicts.
As a novice in Cork, I was given the task of visiting a local Simon hostel in Cork once a week. Up to that point, growing up in Galway, as a student in Cambridge, as a teacher in Yorkshire, I had no real contact with the homeless, and I felt completely out of my depth. I had no idea what to say or do, but after trying and failing to help with cooking and cleaning, I soon found my level: playing Connect 4. Week after week I would visit the shelter to play Connect 4, and gradually I learned that the most important thing I could do for the men there was simply to be with them, and to listen to them with respect.
I was aware that Dublin’s north inner city is ‘Ground Zero’ for homelessness and addiction in Ireland, so when I moved up to St Saviour’s, Dominick St as a student I wondered how the Church would relate to that whole scene. In fact, I was impressed at just how much of the help offered to the homeless in our neighbourhood comes from Faithful Christians: the Capuchin Day Centre, the Morning Star and Regina Caeli hostels, the support offered by Crosscare, the work of the Society of St Vincent de Paul, and an abundance of informal work besides.
Margins
All of this means that, when I wander about town, people on the margins approach me with great affection, as a representative of the Church they know to be on their side. More affluent Dubliners usually politely, or pointedly, ignore me, but those without a home, without support, see a friar in a habit and recognise a friend.
A French brother remarked to me once, with a certain envy, that this warm relationship between the marginalised and the clergy was not something he was familiar with in his home country. Certainly these men and women ask for financial help, and there are some who will try to take advantage of a man of the cloth, but more often they’re looking for prayer or simply a listening ear.
Time and again I’ve been stunned by their wisdom and Faith, often wrought in the crucible of addiction recovery.
I was reminded of all this when I heard last week of the sudden death of a young man named Gavin. Some years ago, he and his girlfriend, Sinéad, were living in a tent under a bridge, and were struggling to survive as they waited on housing. I met them on the street and they began to call often to our priory door. They were always gentle and polite, but in desperate need.
One day, just before I was to leave for studies in Switzerland, when I had a ‘to do’ list the length of my arm, I got a call to say that Gavin and Sinéad were at the door. It was the last thing I needed that particular day, but I gritted my teeth and headed for the door, ready to chuck them a tenner.
But at the door I discovered they weren’t looking for money. They had heard I was leaving and they had used the little money they had to buy me a card to wish me well.
I’ve never received a more perfect gift.
***
Can you be a Martha too?
Over the last year, I’ve had the privilege of being spiritual director to the Legion of Mary praesidium that runs the Regina Caeli hostel for women in North Brunswick Street, Dublin.
I’m continually edified by the quiet, loving fidelity of the women who run the hostel.
Every week, even over Christmas, these women give hours of service to maintain this refuge for women which has been open for nearly ninety years.
They’re always looking for women to join up as volunteers – if you fit the bill, why not give it a go?
