Sunday 19 February 2012

Chaos and Christianity

In one of Salt’s previous lives he was a youth worker at a church. Salt wasn’t raised in the church he turned to it at a time when the ground was quietly falling beneath his feet. He studied theology and with his enquiring, analytical mind he sought to explore the gaps explained with answers of faith and asked questions in those places that are deliberately and blindingly set aside. The bravery of Salt was to acknowledge his internal discomfort, to make that discomfort public and admit to an informed faithlessness. As his honesty reverberated through his church, some of his friends were unable to support him. Some, of course, were able to stay with him and we count many ministers and Christians as our dear friends.

As kids my brothers and I went to church on Christmas mornings. The minister who took the service lived on the farm next to ours. I always tried very hard to listen to the sermon, but I never lasted more than a few sentences. I was usually preoccupied with watching the people around me who I hadn’t seen for a year, and because the minister was our neighbour I figured we were all a bit closer to God than everyone else. One afternoon the minister appeared in his running gear at the farm’s front door – short shorts, sleeveless top, cap on. My grandmother didn’t recognise him, and notoriously said, “Oh, of course minister, I didn’t recognise you without your clothes on.” She was mortified.

On the drives home from Sydney following by brother’s death I’d have mock conversations in my head with a couple of Salt’s Christian friends. I feared they might try to explain my brother’s death in a godly way – it was God’s will – there is a higher plan. I have numerous angry one liners prepared for that pitiful reasoning. I’ve never had to use them. In marriage, birth and death we were prayed for, and I’ve read sentences in cards that I’ve cherished and felt nourished by. I don’t mind being prayed for if it helps to make sense of the chaos and eases the dissonance.

Finding Salt was like finding a rare gem. I wanted to throw my arms in the air with celebratory yells and halleluiahs, like a man who has struck gold, or witnessed a miracle. Salt’s rarity lies in his du-occupancy of holding values and goodness akin to those praised by the church without the dogma. We didn’t go to church on Christmas morning last year, but we did go to Christmas carols. Squid was meant to be sleeping, but her smiles and eyes lit up at the sight of the candles and the sound of the voices. I believe in chaos and I sometimes pretend that I also believe in magic.

Wednesday 1 February 2012

Thanks be to contradictions

It appears my much longed for Spring and subsequent Summer is stunted. Its relief has been but mild, and I’m afraid that February will pass us by and Autumn shall return too soon.

Whilst I’m not of religious persuasion I’m reminded of a prayer, by Leunig, which gives thanks for tomatoes. With the rain has come an abundance of produce and our humble Apollos have thrived, so let us give thanks for the contradictions of seasons and the space that the garden provides for proper deep breathing and hands in the earth.

‘It is time to plant tomatoes. Dear God, we praise this
fruit and give thanks for its life and evolution. We
salute the tomato: cheery, fragrant morsel, beloved
provider, survivor and thriver and giver of life. Giving
and giving and giving. Plump with summer’s joy.
The scent of its stem is summer’s joy, is promise and
rapture. Its branches breathe perfume of promise
and rapture. Giving and giving and giving.
            Dear God, give strength to the wings and knees
of pollinating bees, give protection from hailstorms,
gales and frosts, give warm days and quenching
rains. Refresh and adorn our gardens and our tables.
Refresh us with tomatoes.
            Rejoice and rejoice! Celebrate the scarlet soul of
winter sauces. Behold the delicious flavour! Behold
the oiled vermilion moons that ride and dive in olive-
bobbing seas of vinegared lettuce. Let us rejoice!
Let this rejoicing be our thanks for tomatoes.’