St Mary's

Old Testament Reading: Isaiah 50:4-7

6 I gave my back to the smiters, and my cheeks to those who pulled out the beard;  I hid not my face  from shame and spitting. 7 For the Lord GOD helps me; therefore I have not been confounded;  therefore I have set my face like a flint, and I know that I shall not be put to shame

My God, My God why have you abandoned me?

Gospel Reading: Matthew 21:1-11

[See Passion Narrative & Meditation for Matthew 26:14-27:66]

1 And when they drew near to Jerusalem and came to Beth’phage, to the Mount of Olives, then Jesus sent two disciples, 2 saying to them, “Go into the village opposite you, and immediately you will find an ass tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them  to me. 3 If any one says anything to you, you shall say, `The Lord has need of them,’ and he will send them immediately.” 4 This took place to fulfil what was spoken by the prophet, saying, 5 “Tell the daughter of Zion, Behold, your king is coming to you, humble, and mounted on an ass, and on a colt, the foal of an ass.” 6 The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; 7 they brought the ass and the colt, and put their garments on them, and he sat thereon. 8 Most of the crowd spread their garments on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. 9 And the crowds that went before him and that followed him shouted, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!” 10 And when he entered Jerusalem, all the city was stirred, saying, “Who is this?”

Holy Week comes around again. It is like the annual glaring reminder of the pain and suffering that is never too far from any of us. I have always felt that at this time each year, the Church in a way “gave us permission” to ponder our pain. For me Holy Week has always been the time each year when the Church allows itself to be human without having to  apologize for its very humanness. The Church’s effort to make everything “divine” has never held me to ransom in Holy Week. It is a very frail human Jesus who is portrayed in these stories.

If we have been brought up in the Christian tradition, we would have quite an understanding “wilderness” from the Scriptures. As children, we learned the biblical story  that for “forty Years” the Chosen People wandered around in the desert wilderness on their way to the Promised Land. The book of Hosea calls God’s People in the wilderness….”Come back to me with all your heart..” We know that Gospels record that Jesus himself is said to have “gone into the desert”  at the start of his public ministry  and in this desert experience he suffered.

Living in Australia, we have more than a casual understanding of drought, desert and the harshness of the dry Australian landscape. It is almost as if “wilderness” could be our second nature.

Politicians often talk about being “banished to political wilderness. This expression indicates that the wilderness journey is more than a geographical wasteland experience … It is something that we can feel and internally we can oppose it, negotiate it,  dialogue with it, reflect on it, embrace it or surrender to it. I like to think we can have choice about how we respond to the wilderness, wasteland  experience in our life.

For the purpose of my sharing , I focus on the wilderness as the  life experiences of loss, grief and  pain that batter us like the harshness of the weather swirling and storming within us.  We are challenged to keep living as  we manage this inner turmoil. Recently, after someone ran up the back of my car which I was then without for three weeks, I noted when I walked my long walk to the bus stop on work days that at the bottom of the hill with the wind coming into my face– (a bit like the writer says in the First Reading today) , I  had to steel myself  for the journey and just push on.

I share with you something of my story knowing that there would hardly be a person gathered who does not know of the harshness of the wilderness. I invite you to reflect on your stories as I share mine.

Up until July last year, as a parent I had weathered some intense storms. At times, I felt strong and other times, I felt crushed, battered and broken. I will never forget when after a calm and life-giving period of time, our only daughter set off overseas. As I watched her, our little girl,  seemingly so alone,  go through the tunnel towards the plane. my wilderness experience, hauntingly real screamed with powerlessness “My God, My God why have you abandoned me.”

Good things happened though and in Ireland, she met Ashley from Zimbabwe. He had worked in Ireland for five years. Their relationship led to marriage with a child, little Tinashe, and in February last year when the three of them travelled to Zimbabwe to meet Ashley’s family (he had not seen them for 5 years) it was a time of sheer bliss for them all. Little did they know what lay ahead five months later. When Ashley was injured in a car accident at Camp Hill last July, all opportunities of growing on together were lost.

Ashley’s injuries were so devastating that when admitted to Intensive Care at RBH, he did not move at all and never regained consciousness.  It was confirmed by doctors that all that was keeping him “alive” was life support.

I was able to get Ashley’s mother and 2 sisters out from Zimbabwe, in my view to “say Goodbye” to Ashley before the life support was turned off. Seeing Ashley’s chest moving up and down, believed him to be “alive.” It was at this point that one of the most intense wilderness experiences commenced. RBH Intensive Care were frank and compassionate in their care as they explained that Ashley could not breathe on his own. The family  were adamant that life support should not be turned off as they prayed  that it best to “leave it in God’s hands.”  I will always admire Terry Fitzpatrick for the way that he joined in the hospital prayer gatherings, and when he could input, I would literally cling to his words with my fingernails.

How can I describe this wilderness?

For me, this month brought home to me the helplessness and powerlessness of not being in control. The silence of desert was reflected in my silent voice unable to contribute and inappropriate if I did so.

The sense of being alone in the wilderness was ever present despite the fact that there were family around and certainly a very caring community from St Mary’s. It just felt so alone, probably made harder because of the strong Zimbabwean community thinking which felt so alien to my own.

The experience of the seeming lifelessness of the desert and the wilderness was real when I used to sit beside  Ashley’s bed in Intensive Care. I used to try to go to the hospital early morning or late when no one was else was there. I could feel that life was gone and yet there was a sense of the interconnected so many spiritual writers talk about. I felt my own deep fears about my own mortality. While as a School Principal, I had “walked with” death in school communities , this situation I now found myself in brought with it a  pain I have never before felt.

This wilderness confronted me with the cultural divide especially with differing understandings of God and the spiritual journey. Ashley was Catholic and proudly told me so when he wanted to marry and when Tinashe was to be baptized. Although once when I asked him if he went to Mass, he said with a twinkle in his eye “Mmm sometimes!.” However, now without him able to contribute to his own situation in hospital,  it was clear that the strong Catholicity of his family that he had spoken about had been replaced by the African takeover of the fundamentalist new age religions such as Hillsong.

Ultimately, the decision about Ashley’s life was placed with the Adult Guardian and after a month, the life support was turned off. As expected Ashley did not breathe on his own. Ashley’s  family requested that Ashley be buried in Australia where his son was for as they explained, for them he was “gone finished….until the last day when everyone would rise again.” I thank those of you in this community who supported us and contributed at the time to  the welfare of Ashley’s family and to Sara and Tinashe.

I found the funeral so difficult. Although paying for it, I felt I should shut up, be quiet and respect the cultural divide. Ashley had once told me that being Catholic was important to him in being married by the Priest and he certainly wanted Tinashe baptized so I did insist on the”Catholic Priest” presence at the funeral. All my our family and gathered friends and relations told me that Terry’s  three bells calling us to gently be one with Ashley brought a sense of peace. For me it was like a drop of water in the desert wilderness. Terry I will never thank you enough for what you did and for that thought echoed so often here at St Mary’s that we are one with each other, dead or alive, one with creation, one with the Universe.

What can we do with wilderness pain and fragmentation?

• I continued to write in my journal. When I write I often feel the interconnectedness of the universe
• I talked when I could. I found that as I ranted and raved to Richard, he was always the gracious and accepting one was able to listen to me and still show the face of kindness across cultures to all when I couldn’t.
• In this long month, I was needed to look after Tinashe each day. No longer running a school nor really committed to any work anywhere. I was fully available and could put my energy into the needs of an almost 2 year old. This made life purposeful as being “in the moment” with a 2 year old is really all one can do when with a two year old!.
• I also saw a reserved and often silent side of myself that I remain comfortable with. I can liken it to the gospel story’s portrayal of Jesus going through the motions of Palm Sunday – reflective, humble,  This wilderness was teaching me and continues to teach me  to journey with mystery without the need to analyse, judge, constantly talk nor draw focus to myself. I realized that I honestly had enough of this in school leadership and saw in my pain that that any ego driven efforts and dogmatic convictions were sometimes painfully, giving way to a quiet and thoughtful acceptance.
• At this time, I started to read Anthony de Mello’s book “Awareness” He speaks of detachment. De Mello’s writing is  not unlike Eckhart Tolle’s views  De Mello   says that when I learn awareness through the practice of observing  myself as an almost third person, I can come to real understanding, peace and happiness..
• I continue to learn and draw strength from Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples who historically have known the geographical wilderness in their land and the harshness of wilderness living as they have experienced and continue to experience loss, grief, exclusion and marginalization. So many I know seem to be able to bring wisdom to their pain.
• At the time, as I continue to do now, I drew solace from the soul space of St Mary’s. Ongoing homilies at St Mary’s have been opportunities to journey into a deeper understanding of God  I found that my experience of a God whose will I might have once strived earnestly to follow was changing to a deep sense of my being “within God” even in emptiness. This has stayed with me, helped by Jana Novotka’s music especially her song “Surrender” for as I listen to it, I sing her words “Welcome home” to Ashley – to wherever Heaven is or that state of ongoing transformation into the depths of  God which I can feel replacing any sense of unworthiness my initial Catholic upbringing may have instilled in me. I often sing this Welcome Home song to myself welcoming me home to myself.
• Sometimes I visit Ashley’s grave with a deep sense of loss and desolation and the wish that we could have enjoyed his presence for longer. I take to his grave a deep pain that the little one Tinashe has no father now. There are times when Tinashe will call Richard “Dad” and as my sister says “He sees others with a Dad so it makes sense he wants one too.” He is so young that we are not sure what he remembers.
• I have also identified with some of the wisdom of one of the St Teresa’s…One of them teaches us as Julian of Norwich did  to just keep on with the journey and “all will be well.” That is hard, but I find when I feel most battered and bruised that despite the pain I just keep doing the routines of daily life even if mechanically. Sometimes I find a deeper awareness of the emotions and thoughts that accompany the pain. Somehow  the one moment of the now moves into the next moment. For me, the reality of today’s Palm Sunday story is that it was rather like this in the unfolding Holy Week Jesus story…Jesus riding the waves of pain.
• As an educator I have always looked for the creative spark in students I have taught. I found my own creative spirit to be a source of deep healing when at Christmas I crystallized this wilderness experience of losing Ashley into my own deep love of our daughter and Ashley’s little boy. While the collection is taking pace, II share now with you this simple little Christmas gift to Tinashe whose name in Zimbawe means “We are With God.” I share this because even though this is my journey, you will maybe reflect on your parallel journey.  I pray that all of us may find own creative spirit to love in our own way when  the wilderness is real in sickness, suffering and death. Like the Jesus of today’s Gospel who wept over Jerusalem and yet with a broken heart steeled himself in silent pain as he rode through the waving palms of false celebration and betrayal, we are invited to also wave palms… but with a deep and rich awareness of our own journey and the pain in the journeys of others. In the spirit of the prophet Isaiah in today’s Old Testament Reading may we all, when challenged by the harsh wilderness respond with that same face like flint even when we feel so weak and empty. Let the silence of the wilderness teach us. May the harshness of life’s wilderness  transform into us taking that next step  no matter how savage that wilderness may be. Taking that next step in a battering, swirling wilderness is truly Resurrection.