Columban Fr Peter Woodruff's time in Peru, working alongside those living in poverty. - Photo: Fr Peter Woodruff
Around the world, a large proportion of people are born into situations marked by poverty, adversity, and struggle. These are the people who, from their earliest years, must strive to survive, often in the face of deeply entrenched inequality, social exclusion and hardship. For many, just living day to day demands courage and resilience. They must work hard to build a future out of limited resources and often do so under the weight of unjust systems or historical burdens not of their own making.
In this context, hope becomes not a vague or sentimental feeling, but a profound inner strength. Hope is the virtue that gives us the capacity to keep going when there is no clear path forward. It strengthens our resolve and energises our efforts, even in situations that seem impossible. Like all virtues, hope is a gift from God - available to all. It is not earned but received. And in my experience, it is often most powerfully lived out by those who have the least.
During my forty years living and working in Lima, Peru, I was confronted daily with the struggle of families living in poverty. These were people who built homes out of scrap materials, fetched water from distant sources, worked long hours for meagre wages, and raised children amidst profound uncertainty. And yet, what stood out most was not despair - it was determination. It was the presence of something deeper that kept them moving forward, caring for one another and hoping for a better future. This, I came to understand, was hope. It was living, breathing, persevering hope.
I concluded that God has a deep preference for the poor and for those who walk with them in the pursuit of justice. This divine preference isn’t based on religion or status - it flows from the heart of God, who is always close to those who suffer. And I believe that those who align themselves with the poor - whether through faith, activism, or compassionate service - are sharing in this divine mission.
Hope and faith are virtues that are meant for this life. They orient us towards action, trust and perseverance while we are on earth. Love, or charity, is the virtue that endures beyond this life. It is eternal - unless we choose to extinguish it from our hearts during our earthly journey. It is through hope and faith that we keep love alive and active in the here and now.
When I left Peru definitively in 2009 and returned to Australia, settling in Essendon, I was retired from active ministry, but not from life. Like many Australian retirees, I took the opportunity to travel around this vast and beautiful country. Those travels helped me to reflect more deeply on my own land and its stories. They also opened my eyes to the history and ongoing reality of Indigenous Australians.
What I discovered, and continue to reflect on, is how the experience of Indigenous communities here mirrors, in certain ways, the struggles I witnessed in Peru. Though the scale is different, the root causes are strikingly similar: colonisation, systemic exclusion, cultural suppression, and the lingering effects of historical injustice. The poverty I saw in Peru was material and visible. The wounds among Indigenous Australians are often more hidden - cultural, psychological, and spiritual - but they are no less real.
And yet, what binds these two peoples together is something far more powerful than their suffering - it is their hope. Hope that endures despite oppression. Hope that seeks justice. Hope that calls forth the strength of ancestors, the wisdom of culture, and the vision of a better future for the next generation. This hope, lived out by ordinary people in extraordinary ways, has continually moved me.
I also take heart in the growing desire among many non-Indigenous Australians to walk alongside our First Nations peoples. While the path is often challenging and the political climate uncertain, there are signs of real change. Hope can be seen in new conversations, in acts of truth-telling, in cultural revival, and in the voices of courageous Indigenous leaders - many of whom have inspired the nation.
Among those leaders, two people stand out to me as remarkable beacons of hope: Lowitja O’Donoghue and Patrick Dodson. Their stories are powerful not just because of what they achieved, but because of how they achieved it - with integrity, humility, and steadfast hope.
Lowitja O’Donoghue was born into a world shaped by the brutal policies of assimilation. Taken from her mother at age two, she became part of the Stolen Generations. She did not see her mother again for 33 years. Growing up in institutional care, denied the right to speak her language or know her full heritage, Lowitja endured great pain. But she did not let it define her.
At just sixteen, she began working as a domestic servant, and later as a nursing aide. When she applied to become a nurse at the Royal Adelaide Hospital, she was rejected because of her Aboriginal background. Rather than accept this injustice, she challenged it - ultimately winning the support of the South Australian Premier and becoming the first Aboriginal nurse trained at the hospital.
This would be the beginning of a lifetime of leadership. From her role as Director in the Department of Aboriginal Affairs to becoming the inaugural chair of the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Commission (ATSIC), and later addressing the United Nations, Lowitja was a pioneering figure.
In 2015, she launched the Lowitja Institute, dedicated to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander health research. She remained a passionate advocate until her passing in 2024 at the age of 91. Through every stage of her life, she embodied the quiet strength of hope.
Patrick Dodson, often called the “father of reconciliation”, was born in Broome, WA, and raised in a time when laws forbade interracial families like his. His parents were imprisoned for defying those laws. Orphaned at 13, he and his siblings became wards of the state. Through the intervention of missionaries, Patrick and his brother Mick received scholarships to Monivae College in Victoria.
There, Patrick emerged as a strong leader. He later became the first Aboriginal Catholic priest in Australia. But after years of struggling to reconcile his Aboriginal spirituality with his priestly role, he left ministry and turned his full attention to advocacy.
Patrick played a leading role in the return of Uluru to its traditional owners, chaired the Council for Aboriginal Reconciliation, and served as Royal Commissioner into Aboriginal deaths in custody. In the political realm, he served as a senator, always committed to bringing forward the voice of his people. A key figure in the Uluru Statement from the Heart, Patrick continues to be a moral compass for the nation - even in retirement.
These two figures - Lowitja and Patrick - show us that hope is not simply a wish for better days. Hope is lived, embodied, and acted upon. It speaks truth, demands justice, and draws people together. It challenges unjust systems and inspires new possibilities. Their lives have left a rich heritage, and through them, others have found the courage to rise, to lead, and to dream.
Hope is the quiet but unyielding force that stirs us to believe in something greater than ourselves. It is the path through despair, the light through darkness. In the lives of the poor in Peru, and in the struggle and leadership of Indigenous Australians, I have witnessed the gift of hope again and again. It is, truly, the seed from which justice and peace can grow.
Columban Fr Peter Woodruff lives in Australia.
Listen to "Hope is what keeps us going"
Related links
- Read more from The Far East - August 2025
