#UNHOLY NEAR ME SERIES#

This singing is ‘foreign’ in tone as well as in word. The opening words of Gaudium et Spes come to mind and I wonder about “the joys and the hopes, the griefs and the anxieties” of this gentle-faced man.Īt last the singing begins heralding the beginning of Mass. I am drawn by his soft and kind leathery face, wizened by decades of wind and sun. Perhaps the oldest man I’ve seen in Kiribati, wearing dark glasses, shuffles in feeling his way with a walking stick. I know from past experience that I’m in for a long homily, made longer by the fact that I cannot understand one word.

My back is aching, the seats (and I’m lucky to have one) are hard, and already the bishop is 25 minutes late. A mantra emerges: “O God, may I fall ever more deeply into the abyss of your love”.įour days later, I am in the Sacred Heart Cathedral for Mass, and once again, I feel anything but ‘holy’. US theologian Sallie McFague describes the world, the cosmos, as “the womb of God”. For me, the abyss is a metaphor for the mystery of God within me and within our achingly beautiful cosmos. I see a figure – perhaps it is myself – curved in a foetal position, spinning slowly and falling deeper and deeper into an abyss. God help them and us to work for climate action and climate justice.īack to the abyss. Kiribati and its people are vulnerable in the extreme to climate change. Our sisters joke that the highest points in Kiribati are the speed bumps!Ī swift tsunami may not devastate Kiribati but slowly rising sea levels will. Thank God! With a mere height of three metres above sea level, Kiribati would be utterly devastated by even the smallest tsunami. This deep water, it is said, will protect Kiribati from a tsunami. The incredibly deep water around the atolls has been described as an abyss. My eyes now wander to the horizon beyond the breaking waves of the Pacific Ocean. When I feel buffeted by life they invite me to be less rigid, more giving, more flexible. These Kiribati palms are a beautiful living icon for faith as they lean both into the soft breezes and the torrential storms which regularly enough sweep across these islands. She says that faith – more a verb than a noun – is the way we lean into life. Australian theologian Maryanne Confoy RSC describes faith in a similar way. But why do so many actually lean into the wind?Īccording to scientists, by bending into the breeze, coconut trees adopt a fascinating strategy for avoiding critical stress. Apparently the prevailing winds cause the trunks of young coconut trees to curve. Instead of reflecting on the words of the Scriptures my mind wanders, taking in the sights and sounds around me.

Surely my gratitude, my deep gratitude, is holy. The breeze is both gentle and refreshing and I am grateful. I sit in the shade facing the ocean and endeavour to pray, but prayer is as elusive as any holy thought. Always in Kiribati – and this is my ninth visit – I renew my companionship with the ancient prophet Elijah who finds God in the gentle breeze. I go outside with my bible to pray and hope I might catch a sea breeze. Actually, on these atolls, you are never more than 300 metres away from the lagoon or the ocean. Our convent at Temaiku is near the ocean. Hasn’t the coming of Jesus, the Christ, revealed to us that the holy and the Holy One are woven intimately into the fabric of our lives? Because of the Incarnation – God taking on the weak and limited ‘stuff’ of our humanity – all that is genuinely human is holy. Surely it is more than assenting to certain beliefs and dogmas. I’m wary of dualistic thinking that places a false dichotomy between the sacred and the profane and I ponder on what makes a thought ‘holy’. How do I have holy thoughts when all I can think of is how uncomfortable I am and where I might find a refreshing breeze? More than hot, it is humid – humid with a vengeance.

#UNHOLY NEAR ME SERIES#

Kiribati (pronounced Kiribas) is made up of a series of coral atolls which straddle the equator and the international date line. “I haven’t had a holy thought since!” These words kept coming back to me during my last visit to Kiribati – words that had originally been uttered in frustration and anguish by a friend who broke her foot while on retreat in the moderate climes of Melbourne. How do I have holy thoughts when all I can think of is how uncomfortable I am and where I might find a refreshing breeze, asks Good Samaritan Sister Patty Fawkner.

Safeguarding of Children, Young People and Adults at Risk.

Our New Chapter Logo – inviting your response.

Call for inspiring stories that illuminate our values.

Our Acknowledgement of Indigenous Peoples.

Unholy near me