Vale Peter Maher

Ben Oh, former Palms staff member and former Chair of the Palms Australia Board, explains what the life of Peter meant to him and so many others.

[s2If current_user_can(access_s2member_level2)]Peter Maher acted as Chaplain for Palms Australia for much of the time I have been Executive Director. A little over a week before he passed I was able to chat with him and pass on my appreciation:

“Peter, since the first Palms Orientation you attended, I have witnessed you humbly giving yourself to so many. You lived your faith as we are called to; on the side of the marginalised and supporting programs like Palms that were there with you in joy. You gave us connection whenever we asked, or you identified an opportunity. You engaged fully in supportive solidarity.”

Peter Maher took his vocation to love and serve our human family very seriously. Peter’s humility stood out for me. In all the different roles he took on as an educator, a friend, a priest, a brother, a mentor, a supervisor, an activist, a grandfather, an ally, a companion, a chaplain, a dancer, a retreat facilitator and in his many other roles, it is clear the prophet Micah (6:8) informed his action, To act justly, to love tenderly and to walk humbly with the holy one.

Peter understood Paulo Freire’s belief that “No one can be authentically human while they prevent others from being so.” At the heart of his ministries, and indeed how he related to me personally was our shared sense of relationship built on deep mutuality, care and respect that strengthens one another’s movement towards justice, interdependence, accountability, responsibility for one another’s wellbeing, agency and integrity.

Peter did not suffer fools gladly, especially bullies acting to silence the marginalized and the poor. However, he followed the nonviolent Jesus; actively and creatively working and walking in solidarity alongside the minoritized: First Nations people, people of colour, international students and migrant workers, asylum seekers and refugees, LGBTIQA+ people, the unchurched Catholic and the poor.

Peter made ways and space to amplify the voice of the othered because he truly believed he saw and was taught by Jesus through the poor and the minoritized. As someone who has had to deal with racism, heterosexism and various forms of internalised oppression, Peter gave me space to freely articulate, and speak with faith to teach from my own learning place of truth and reality.

Peter once shook his head in ironic disbelief that I sat down with a Catholic homophobe to pray the rosary. I thought how else am I supposed to stop them saying hurtful things whilst I shiver in trepidation? Let me just say, they were rough, but Peter was the one who first introduced them to me, so I thought how bad can they be?

Peter cast praying with such an adversary as a radical act as articulated by Paulo Freire. If true, I was led to it by Peter’s example. One morning I learnt about him being at court supporting the same person who in the previous week broke into his home, broke things and stole things from him. He simply said: “at least he stole less this time” and described the person as one of his ‘regulars’.

Paulo Freire said that “True generosity lies in striving so that these hands – whether of individuals or entire peoples – need be extended less and less in supplication, so that more and more they become human hands which work to transform the world.” 

May we embody that ‘true generosity’ as expressed in the life of Peter Maher.[/s2If]

Peter Maher – The “Come as you are” Priest

John Crothers

[s2If current_user_can(access_s2member_level2)]The last time I saw my friend Peter Maher was a week before he died. I visited him at Sydney’s Calvary Hospital, and had the privilege of spending the best part of an hour with him. He was still vibrant and engaged, despite his obvious discomfort and failing strength. He had not lost his mischievous smile or his quick retort. He knew his time was short, but he was at peace. 

He was pleased that his funeral Mass was going to take place at the church of St Thomas More at Brighton Le Sands. It was where he came to Mass in Sydney for the first time after his family moved from Wollongong. He remarked how fitting it would be for his last Mass to take place there.

He also mentioned how he had planned his funeral liturgy. “I’ve organised everything,” he said, with a note of satisfaction in his voice.

One of the things that Peter had organised for his funeral Mass was the hymn “Come as You Are.” It’s an extremely popular Catholic hymn, and is often sung at funerals. 

It’s not hard to see why Peter chose it. He was very much a “come as you are” sort of person. He had no guile, no pretence. What you saw with Peter was what you got. But perhaps more importantly, Peter had the ability to attract people to him “as they were.” His ministry to the marginalised is a testament to that fact. People came to him from all walks of life and they felt comfortable in his presence. 

He was also a wonderful host and loved inviting people for a meal. You were never quite sure who was going to turn up at the table.

Sadly, at Peter’s funeral, we didn’t hear the hymn “Come as you are.” It was deemed to be not suitable for the occasion. I can only guess that the Archbishop either balked at the fact that it is a folk-style hymn, or that he felt the words were inappropriate. 

Like many Catholics I have sung the hymn countless times and reflected often on the words. Here they are for your own reflection.

Come as you are, that’s how I want you
Come as you are, feel quite at home
Close to my heart, loved and forgiven
Come as you are, why stand alone

No need to fear, love sets no limits
No need to fear, love never ends
Don’t run away shamed and disheartened
Rest in my love, trust me again

I came to call sinners, not just the virtuous
I came to bring peace, not to condemn
Each time you fail to live by my promise
Why do you think I’d love you the less?

Come as you are, that’s how I love you
Come as you are, trust me again
Nothing can change the love that I bear you
All will be well, just come as you are

(Deirdre Browne)

If there is anything in these words that is not appropriate for a funeral Mass, I fail to see it. On the contrary, they give me inspiration and encouragement on my journey of faith, and I’m sure they did the same for Peter. Indeed, it is not hard to see why this hymn has resonated with so many Catholics over the years, particularly in difficult times.

But Peter’s situation is not unique. There is a broader question here about whether the personal preference of a bishop for a certain type of music should override the wishes of the priest who has died. Surely this is a conversation that should be had now, between the bishop and the clergy of the diocese. It should be an upfront and honest conversation so that everyone knows where they stand. It should not be left until the time of the funeral.

Most priests serve the Church faithfully over a long period of time. They rarely seek reward, or even recognition. As their health fails, they often plan the liturgy for their funeral, and choose hymns that reflect their own life and ministry.

It’s a simple request. Is it really too much to ask?[/s2If]

The essence of Sacrament

John Buggy offers another reflection on Peter Maher’s funeral liturgy.

[s2If current_user_can(access_s2member_level2)]Our beloved Father Peter Maher died in November after a long battle with cancer. Peter was a member of Australian Reforming Catholics (ARC) since its inception and was a beacon in showing how Jesus’ inclusiveness of everyone should be enacted. His manner of embracing those who felt rejected or marginalised was accompanied by an assurance that they should not be forever burdened by any ongoing guilt. God’s unconditional love was paramount.

Peter wanted a simple funeral and he set out some of the readings and hymns in addition to nominating a priest friend to conduct the ceremony in the manner he desired. It was to include some elements not present in the usual send-offs for priests but which expressed the values and ‘down to earthiness’ of the ministry he exercised.

But it was not to be. An archbishop, two bishops, and a contingent of around thirty priests concelebrated the Mass and, through their powerful presence, set the tone of the gathering. The archbishop, while giving a brief mention of Peter’s qualities, referred to his theology as if it was to be questioned, thereby giving an implicit denial of some of the values that shaped his ministry. The fully robed bank of clergy, seemingly supporting the arch-conservative episcopal trio, helped to ensure a counter balancing stamp of orthodoxy against any statement or sentiment that traditionally might be considered inappropriate. 

Yes, some items were permitted on Peter’s coffin that evoked memories of his life. But others that were symbols of his compassion for the LGBTIQA+ community and the women traumatised by the experience of abortion were not. Even the hymn ‘Come as You Are’, sung in many congregations for years, was not included. Was its expressed inclusiveness a step to far in this context? No chance for any multi colours that could be construed as a rainbow or for even a copy of Father Ted Kennedy’s book that might remind us of ‘Who is Worthy’.

The concept of sacrament since Vatican II has broadened in practice, if not strictly in theology. We have moved from participation in the ‘priest’s Mass’ with his back turned to us towards various ways of expressing more personal encounters with God through sacrament and thereby drawing others to God through the ‘earthy’ connections. So, when certain objects are placed on the departed person’s coffin that symbolise the way that person responded to God’s love, those symbols can be catalysts in drawing others to the love of God as they witness it. This is the essence of sacrament – the sign of God’s grace and enhanced by the manner in which people respond to it.

The symbols that many of those who attended expected to see associated with Peter’s life were not shown here. Where was the sign of God’s grace for some of those people? The sacramental experience felt incomplete. The rejected symbols were carried down the road to an informal reception at the local RSL. Individuals in this small gathering lovingly picked up an item and placed it on a table beside a lighted candle. The group sang ‘Come as You Are’. Spontaneous expressions then came forth along with stories of comfort gained in the encounter with God’s love through association with Peter. All were drawn together strongly in these moments. The sacrament was complete. The spirit shone through.[/s2If]

The Boxer’s Son: George Pell 1941-2023

Frank Brennan SJ AO

This obituary appeared in The Tablet, 21 January, 2023, and is reprinted here with permission.

[s2If current_user_can(access_s2member_level2)]George Pell was an old-style churchman with strong opinions. He and I had our differences. He was no admirer of contemporary Jesuits, and I am one. I got to know him best when I attended his trials on charges of child sexual abuse, which I had realised at once were preposterous. I grew to admire his good humour and humility in the face of what was nothing more than an appalling police sting operation protracted by grossly erroneous judicial reasoning by Victoria’s two most senior judges. His prison journals revealed a Christian able to find grace in the middle of adversity and injustice. 

Even in death, George Pell has continued to excite interest and controversy. I was in Boston during the 2005 conclave. Many Americans asked me if Pell might be elected. My standard answer was, “The Church is not yet ready for an Australian pope.” Pell played a significant role in the 2005 and 2013 conclaves. Despite being over 80 and unable to vote, he hoped to have a decisive influence in determining the outcome of the next one. At lunch in Rome a few weeks ago, he assured me that the next conclave was not far off. Knowing he was due for a hip replacement, he had told friends that he would not return to Australia for surgery (he died after a cardiac arrest following the operation). He didn’t want to risk being on the other side of the world post-op and pre-conclave. Pope Francis is still with us. It’s Pope Emeritus Benedict and Cardinal George Pell who are deceased.

In his posthumous article for The Spectator, Pell writes: “Diocesan bishops are the successors of the Apostles, the chief teacher in each diocese and the focus of local unity for their people and of universal unity around the Pope, the successor of Peter. Since the time of St Irenaeus of Lyon, the bishop is also the guarantor of continuing fidelity to Christ’s teaching, the apostolic tradition. They are governors and sometimes judges, as well as teachers and sacramental celebrants, and are not just wall flowers or rubber stamps.” 

This observation about the role of bishops holds the key to his life and ministry. It explains his pugilistic approach, his focus on truth and tradition. He saw his role and solemn duty as a bishop to be an enforcer, especially against what he described as “the Protestant liberals in the Catholic Church”. He thought many Jesuits – me included – were among them. He was dismayed in later years to see a new spring in our step in response to the Francis papacy. 

George Pell was born in the provincial city of Ballarat, Victoria, on 8 June 1941. His father, also George, had been a publican and boxer, and was not religious; his mother, Margaret, was a Catholic of Irish extraction. George was an all-rounder, competent at sport and the academy. He excelled in the seminary and was sent to Rome, where he was ordained in St Peter’s Basilica in 1966. He was then sent to Campion Hall, Oxford, where his doctoral thesis was “The exercise of authority in early Christianity from about 170 to about 270” – the time of St Irenaeus of Lyon. 

In the introduction he wrote: “As orthodox and heretical teachers began to develop a Christian theology during the second century, the teaching role of the clergy (bishops and presbyters) was brought under severe pressure. The bishops led the fight for orthodoxy, characterised their opponents as intellectuals, and channelled popular feeling for their position by appealing to the simple, traditional, oneness of faith against the speculations and extravagances of their opponents.” 

He detailed, and did not lament, the waning influence of the laity by the third century: “The mass of the laity never dominated the life of the Church, but individual charismatics, be they teachers, prophets or confessors, played important parts at times. We have mentioned the eclipse of lay teachers. Similarly, the appeals of the confessors to reconcile the lapsed are brought under episcopal control. The rejection of prophecy, following on the Montanist crisis, closed another avenue of lay expression. That their influence diminished the further we move into the third century is shown in the part they played in the election of clerics, and in conciliar gatherings. They were still quasi-official witnesses, but their role came to be more and more dominated by the provincial bishops.” 

He returned to Australia in 1971, confident that any bishop worth his salt would keep the laity in their place. Little did he know that his later career was to be plagued by the curse of child sexual abuse in the Church and by financial scandals in the Vatican – the sins not of laity, but of clergy. At a very early age, he became a diocesan consultor to the Bishop of Ballarat, Ronald Mulkearns. In 1985 he was appointed rector of the seminary in Melbourne, and in 1987 became an auxiliary bishop to the Archbishop of Melbourne, Sir Frank Little. Mulkearns and Little oversaw dioceses with a disproportionate number of child sex offenders in the ranks of clergy and teaching brothers; both were old-style bishops who kept the bad news to themselves. 

When he became Archbishop of Melbourne in 1996, Pell set up the “Melbourne Response”, an attempt to deal with a backlog of cases of child sexual abuse. The other dioceses in Australia were finalising details of their joint protocol “Towards Healing”. Pell chose to go it alone and, as ever, went to the top end of town and employed the best lawyers to assist. His protocol was designed in co-operation with Victoria Police and the Victorian solicitor-general. Whatever defects in the protocol were to be found later, none had been declared by police or government at the time. Similar defects were later found in “Towards Healing”. 

The Australian Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse, established in 2012 and reporting five years later, had a strong focus on the Catholic Church. The chief commissioner, Justice Peter McClellan, and the assisting counsel had Pell in their sights. In their Ballarat case study, they said it was “inconceivable” that diocesan consultors, including Pell, did not know by July 1977 of the abuse committed by the paedophile priest Gerald Ridsdale “given the usual practice and the general knowledge in the community”. But they went on to accept the evidence of two other consultors that they did not know about the abuse until many years later. 

This shoddy and selective dealing with the evidence was repeated in the Melbourne case study, which looked at Pell’s treatment of an offending parish priest when he was auxiliary bishop; once again, the commission identified no evidence that Pell knew anything. Having received a detailed analysis of the royal commission’s findings from a panel of lawyers, Pope Francis allowed the publication of photos of a private audience at which he welcomed Pell back to Rome. 

Enough has been written about the police sting and the miscarriage of justice Pell suffered when in 2017 he was charged with child sex offences alleged to have occurred in the sacristy of St Patrick’s Cathedral, Melbourne, after an 11am Sunday Mass. The police had instituted a three-year “Operation Tethering” that they said “was set up to investigate possible unreported crimes committed by Cardinal George Pell”. It turned up nothing. 

The police did not even interview any altar servers, concelebrants or money collectors who would have been in the sacristy routinely immediately after the Sunday Mass. Not even the two state judges wanting to uphold the convictions could postulate a theory, let alone point to any evidence as to how Pell and two choristers could be alone in the sacristy immediately after Mass. According to his final account to the jury, the complainant would have reached the sacristy a couple of minutes after the altar servers arrived and some minutes before Pell could possibly have arrived. 

On 7 April 2020, in a unanimous judgment, Australia’s highest court, the High Court, with all seven judges sitting, unanimously upheld Pell’s appeal and quashed his convictions. 

When we had lunch in Rome a month ago Pell was in good spirits, fearing nothing, and more than happy to give vent to his views, even to those like me who have a different appreciation of the attempts by Pope Francis to make the Church more synodal. I left him knowing that we would always hold very different theological perspectives but in no doubt about Pell’s fearless, joyful proclamation of truth and tradition as he saw it. 

We have all now been told that Pell was the author of the memo released last year under the pseudonym “Demos” and circulated to various cardinals, describing the present pontificate as “a disaster” and “a catastrophe”, and outlining the priorities for the next pope: “restore normality, restore doctrinal clarity in faith and morals, restore a proper respect for the law and ensure that the first criterion for the nomination of bishops is acceptance of the apostolic tradition”. Shortly before he died Pell had apparently decided to allow The Spectator to publish the article that appeared under his own name this week in which he condemns the forthcoming synod on synodality as a “toxic nightmare”. 

If a cardinal had published such excoriating views of the Pope and a pending synod process during the time of John Paul II or Benedict, Pell would have been the first to call for his dismissal from office and from all future curial activities. But for Pell, anything goes in the defence of what he was convinced was truth and tradition. I recall Pell’s supporting Benedict’s dismissal of the very pastoral Australian bishop William Morris in 2011. Pell gave this rationale: “The diocese was divided quite badly and the bishop hasn’t demonstrated that he’s a team player.” By the time of his death, Pell was no longer a team player; he was taking a leading role in the faction opposed to the Pope’s reforms. 

Pell was doing all he could to uphold the role of bishop as he had enunciated it in his doctoral thesis 50 years ago. For Pell, unity with the pope was contingent on a shared understanding of truth and tradition. 

Emboldened by the High Court’s vindication and by the exposure of the shortcomings and prejudices of the police, the director of public prosecutions and the two most senior judges in Victoria, Cardinal George Pell was determined to maintain the role of the bishops as defenders of unchanging church teaching and to quash the pretensions of the synodal process. He never shrank from a fight. He thrived on conflict and it cost him dearly. 

Frank Brennan is a Jesuit priest, Rector of Newman College at the University of Melbourne, and an adjunct professor at the Thomas More Law School at the Australian Catholic University. He attended the Pell trials and appeals at the request of the Australian Catholic Bishops’ Conference.[/s2If]

Reflection on the Final Assembly of the Plenary Council

Vincent Long Van Nguyen OFMConv 

[s2If current_user_can(access_s2member_level2)]This reflection followed the conclusion of the Second Assembly of the Fifth Plenary Council of Australia, and was delivered on the 16th Sunday, Ordinary Time, Year C, 17 July 2022. Bishop Vincent refers to the dramatic day during the Plenary when the majority of bishops, but short of the required two-third majority, voted in favour of the motion concerning the dignity and equality of women. His reflection echoes parts of Peter Maher’s last article he wrote in his last edition of The Swag. This reflection was originally published in Catholic Outlook, News from the Diocese of Parramatta and used with permission.

Dear friends in Christ,

Last week, nine delegates from our Diocese, including myself, participated as members of the Plenary Council in the Final Assembly in Sydney. This was a historic event in the life of the Church in Australia. We gathered to pray, listen, discern and make decisions, mindful of the voice of the Holy Spirit through God’s Word, tradition, the magisterium and the signs of the times. We were conscious of your communion with us through personal interest, prayers and loving support. As at the first gathering on the feast of St Francis of Assisi, we were stirred by the call issued to us
as once to him: “Go and rebuild my Church that is falling into ruins”. We earnestly sought to address the many challenges we face as a community of disciples and map out a better future for the Church going forward.

I am pleased to say that the Plenary Council has been a moment of grace, a celebration of hope and a conviction of God’s enduring accompaniment. Like the disciples with Mary in the Upper Room, we were bonded in one common faith, one baptism and one Lord. Despite our differences, which were many and intense at times, we came together with the best interest of the Church at heart.

Of the many issues discussed, debated and voted upon, the Plenary Council showed strong support for the Uluru Statement from the heart. Catholics have largely been ahead of the general community on First Nations concerns. We have long learned to honour indigenous language, culture, wisdom, sovereignty and way of life. Calling for a First Nations voice to Parliament to be enshrined in Australia’s constitution is indeed a momentous step.

On ecology, there is a recognition of the urgency in addressing the environmental crises of our times and a commitment to join the Laudato Si Action Plan. This call to action obliges us not only to care for our common home as a matter of planetary sustainability but also a sense of God-given stewardship. In other words, ecological conversion in all of its manifestations is a deeply spiritual concern arising from our love of God and all of His creation. Our response to the cry of the poor and the cry of the earth is inextricably linked together.

One of the most contentious issues was the motion concerning the equality and dignity of women and men in governance structures, ministry and decision-making mechanisms. The discussion took place at a half-way point and proved to be a pivotal moment. Providentially, the reading for that day was part of the Pentecost story. It read “and suddenly from heaven, there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind and it filled the entire house where they were sitting”. We did not expect a kind of “violent wind” that disrupted, changed the group dynamic and led to a moment of profound revelation.

When the initial motion failed to receive the majority of the deliberative votes, the bishops realized we could not continue business as usual. There were tears, deep sorrow and hurt in the room, especially among those who staged a silent protest. This caught me totally unawares at first but I eventually walked around and shared the pain. Later on, the bishops held crisis talks, agreed on the re-drafting and the assembly passed the re-worked motion.

For some, the protest might have been judged as a stunt and an act of intimidation. For many others, myself included, it was a respectful and powerful gesture of dissent, rooted in the prophetic tradition. The assembly could have walked away with a superficial unity had we not addressed this iconic issue of our time. 

I believe that the Church cannot have a better future if it persists in the old paradigm of clericalism and male dominance. So long as we continue to exclude women from the Church’s governance structures, decision-making processes and institutional functions, we deprive ourselves of the richness of our full humanity.

I thank God that the Plenary Council had the humility and courage to not go home with a false unity but a deep and new awareness of God’s unfolding revelation and our evolving maturity. At least that is the indication of the majority. The synodal journey can be messy, painful and uncertain. But it can lead to renewed and deepened commitment and even transformation. The mood of the assembly changed after the matter had been dealt with. For many, it was like a paschal moment that brought a ray of hope out of despair.

The Plenary Council was an act of enormous trust, or perhaps in betting terms, a massive gamble. It was an Abrahamic journey from the start. We gambled on the invitation of Pope Francis to be the People of God, walking together, sharing the burdens of humanity, listening to the voice of the most marginalised, reforming its structures and ways of doing things. We did not set out to resolve every question of importance. For instance, on matters of sex and gender, there was very little on the agenda. The acceptance of LGBTIQ+ as the reference to non-binary brothers and sisters was perhaps not a small consensus among the members.

In the end, the significance of this synodal exercise was much more than what was decided. What was highly symbolic and paradigm-shifting was the fact that we met as equals. The emphasis on the superiority of the ordained gave way to an ecclesial communion based on common baptism. 

Bishops, priests, religious and lay were all addressed by our first names. No one’s voice counted more than another’s. There was a profound sense of being together and working together even if we have distinct roles in the Church.


Dear sisters and brothers,

In today’s Gospel, Martha was occupied with serving her guests, while Mary sat at Jesus’ feet and listened to his teaching. Martha wanted her sister to help with the serving, but Jesus gently informed her that Mary had chosen the better portion, which would not be taken from her. 

This stance was more radical than modern readers may realize. In Jewish culture, women weren’t allowed to study theology, and the student’s place at a rabbi’s feet was reserved for men only. By welcoming Mary as a pupil, Jesus flipped that cultural script on its head.

There were many other stories of how he treated women with kindness and respect, affirming their value and dignity as those made in the image of God. 

He welcomed them, defended them, freed and empowered them to find their identity as daughters of God. He included women in his ministry team and welcomed them as disciples, to follow and learn from him – actions unheard of for a Jewish rabbi.

Inspired by the example of Jesus and the guidance of the Holy Spirit on the Plenary Council, may the Church learn to embody a way of being together, sharing responsibility and proclaiming God’s Kingdom. 

We must continue to embody the alternative relational paradigm that Jesus taught. This counter paradigm turns the world’s system of power structures on its head because it is rooted in the biblical narrative of the new social order of radical inclusion, justice and equality.

All things considered, the Plenary Council has moved decisively towards the vision of Vatican II. I am heartened to say that most of its insights have already been captured by our unique “Parramatta Way”. Women, in particular, are indispensable in our synodal structures and decision-making processes such as the Diocesan Curia. We hope to keep the momentum going and implement all the endorsed decrees. As we move into a new era, may we grow to be a more fit-for-purpose Church, so that we can be a more effective vehicle for the Good News.

May the Holy Spirit “lead the Church in Australia into a hope-filled future, that we may live the joy of the Gospel, through Jesus Christ our Lord, bread for the journey from age to age.”

Amen.[/s2If]