CRA Acting President/Vice-President, Sr Philippa Murphy FDNSC.
We find ourselves halfway through Lent, walking this sacred season in a world marked by conflict and fear. Ongoing violence in the Middle East, growing global instability, and the use of dehumanising language reach even into our Australian context, shaping the way people live, think, and hope. Many carry a quiet anxiety about the future. Pope Leo names this reality with clarity when he appeals: “Pray for peace, work for peace, less hatred. Hatred in the world is constantly increasing.” These words are not only a lament; they are a call to the heart, especially for us in Lent, to resist indifference, to draw close to those who suffer and to allow our own hearts to be converted.
The Gospel placed before us for the third Sunday of Lent is the story of Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well. It is a tender encounter, and it unfolds in a divided world. Jesus and the woman meet on ground that is shaped by long histories of suspicion and hurt. And yet Jesus does not begin with harsh words. He begins with a humble request: “Give me a drink.” He listens. He allows the conversation to unfold slowly, truthfully, without judgement. In that simple, respectful exchange, a wounded life begins to heal.
This Gospel echoes Pope Leo’s words that “stability and peace are not achieved through mutual threats, nor through the use of weapons, but only through reasonable, sincere, and responsible dialogue.” At the well, Jesus shows us that peace begins not with dominance, but with presence; He chooses closeness over distance, listening over conflict, dialogue over silence.
For those of us living consecrated life this story feels deeply familiar. It resonates with our call to be women and men on mission—women and men who believe, as our founders did, that the essence of our charism is found not in ideas but in a living relationship with Jesus who loves with a human heart. They trusted that the healing of the world begins with presence: compassionate, personal, inclusive, attentive. Today, we are invited to return to that way of being, in essence, to return to the very heart of God.
Across our communities, so many people are tired—tired of uncertainty, rising cost‑of‑living pressures, isolation, the long aftermath of bushfires, floods, and displacement, and the quiet loneliness that touches so many lives. And if we are honest, there are moments when we, too, feel this weariness—in our communities, our ministries, even our prayer. Lent asks us to remain open and to let God meet us where we truly are.
Yet even in this weariness, consecrated life continues to shine with a quiet and resilient hope. It remains a living sign that God’s love is very close to our world. We see this in religious walking alongside Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities, listening deeply to story, culture, and Country. We see it in Consecrated men and women offering places of safety for those escaping violence, in those accompanying people recovering from addiction, and in religious serving refugees and newly arrived families across cities, regional towns, and remote areas. We see it too in the quiet fidelity of contemplatives and our elderly members. These everyday acts are living signs of God’s promise that love is close.
This Lent, Pope Leo invites us to ask for the grace to become more attentive—to God and our sisters and brothers. One of the most precious gifts we offer as consecrated women and men is profoundly simple: our willingness to listen…Not to solve. Not to advise. Not to judge. But to listen—slowly, gently, lovingly. In a world where hatred is increasing, this becomes a tangible way to work for peace.
So many of those we encounter carry stories that have never been welcomed. Some have learned to stay silent because speaking felt unsafe. Others have never had someone sit long enough to truly hear them. When we listen with our whole selves, something sacred happens. Hearts begin to soften, and in that softening peace begins to grow.
This is holy ground.
As we enter the remaining weeks of Lent, perhaps we can each ask:
Who is waiting for me at the well?
Whose story needs space to be heard?
What thirst—my own or another’s—is God gently revealing?
Which words can I refrain from, and what words of peace is the Spirit inviting me to speak?
May these days deepen in us the love of the heart of God, the listening heart of Mary, and the gentle fire of our Founders dreams—so that, here in this Great Southern Land, in solidarity with a wounded world, we may truly be women and men of peace, listening deeply and remaining open to God’s promise.
Sr Philippa Murphy FDNSC
CRA Acting President/Vice-President