My first memory of St Vincent's, Redfern, is etched indelibly on my mind and goes back to 1971. It coincided with my release from enclosure as a Religious of the Sacred Heart in the wake of the reforms of Vatican II. I made an early visit to Redfern where Aboriginal people had already received hospitality in the Presbytery and Convent. What a royal welcome I received as I moved among the Aboriginal people being introduced as “Father Ted's sister”! My first conversation with one of the men is still with me. He told me of his sad life of poverty and separation from family, and ended with the words:

St Vincent’s community, how does one encapsulate a lifetime of experiences that captured my heart, my imagination my beliefs and my commitment to justice, in a few words? When I came to Redfern I was looking for a church where I could worship. I found instead a life-changing scene where every fibre of my being was challenged daily and still is by the unique people and events that have been part of my journey.

Many years ago I spent a little time in Thailand. I had gone there to try to enter, at least in some small way, into the extraordinary inner peace and serenity which, years earlier, I had experienced when, for the first time, I had entered a Buddhist temple. Now, several years later, among the many temples I visited in Bangkok was one which specially intrigued me - Wat Phra Keaw - the Temple of the Emerald Buddha. According to my guide, this particular temple had been built at the time of King Mongkut.[1]

Praying the psalms in the chapel of the old convent building amidst the shouts of desperation emanating from the drunken chaos of the lives of people in the darkness below is a memory that stays with me to this day. This was the world of poverty and tragedy which Mum Shirl invited me to share. I was then a naïve 21 year old Marist Brother. This was a world I knew nothing about. It was at once frightening and welcoming, depressing yet energising. While Mum Shirl was around I felt safe, as though things could be brought under control – one could literally take shelter behind her. Her powerful presence was akin to the power of Jesus calming the storm, yet at times she could be the storm itself, and no one was safe from her blunt challenge to plumb the depths of our real motivation for being with her people. She could cut to the quick with a word, then wrap you up in arms of unconditional love, something I experienced or witnessed on many occasions.

For all of us, this collection of thoughts and reflections is in part a way of naming some of the spirit of Ted Kennedy and his effect on this Redfern community; it will also say more about us individually and as a community. Putting pen to paper implies care about what has been, a desire that future generations have access to contemporary witness, and perhaps more centrally we are compiling these stories and reflections at a time in our community when we are yearning for courage and inspiration. The paradoxical strength of this community was that Ted never attempted to forge one; had he done so it may not have lasted more than a few years. Rather, people from all walks of life were attracted to a way of being in and seeing the world.