Bridging the Divide between Faith Theology and Life
The Church in Oceania
Anthony Maher – Editor
Launch by Fr Frank Brennan SJ AO
APTO Conference, ANU
28 November 2015
This is an exciting ecumenical book of essays from diverse theologians dispersed throughout Oceania.Their writings are the mature distillation of their deliberations when they first met in 2014 as theAssociation of Practical Theology in Oceania.They venture well beyond the derivative thought of scholars schooled in Europe and the USA.They are well grounded in this part of the world, and they are not swamped by the big local Catholic and Australian players.They are bold enough in each other’s company to provide us with stimulating images for a grounded practical theology, including ‘the church of the verandah’ and the call to practice ‘slow Church’ for an ancient land; we need a Christianity unfolding with the pace of the place.
In his Introduction, Anthony Maher speaks about:
‘the steady decline in ecclesial practice and essentially the growing perception of ecclesial irrelevance in issues of critical public debate. Spiritually minded people in Western societies seem to believe, but don’t belong, while the ‘turn to the subject’, so evident in the growing antipathy towards religious institutions, affirms the necessity for theology to be fully attuned to culture.’
In varying ways all Christians from the established churches believe that tradition, authority, dogma, ritual and community have a place in shaping the contours which sustain our hope and assist us to hand on that hope to the coming generations. These are hard times for organised religion in Australia, and they are times of profound change for everyone. Church attendance continues to decline. Those in the pews are not getting any younger. In my own church, more of the able bodied priests are from overseas; they are missionaries who have come amongst us who are adapting to the concept that we are once again a mission land. The talent pool for future ecclesial leaders and bishops is not what it was a generation or two ago. The royal commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse continues to fill us Catholics with dread that we have not yet adequately identified why the incidence of abuse reported in our institutions is higher than in other churches. The divisions amongst our bishops, previously unreported and unknown to many of the faithful, are disheartening. So many of our church leaders appearing before the royal commission seem to lack the conviction and clear sightedness which many of the victims have courageously displayed in coming to tell their story. I have sadly concluded that if clerics who exercise power are unable to admit wrongdoing and failings then we have nothing to say to the world. Those of you from other churches have your own stories.
I dare to venture that all of us are taking some heart from Pope Francis whose concerns are not narrowly dogmatic or pedagogical but universally pastoral. You would think he had attended many conferences on practical theology. He is having an impact because there are so many millions of people, including erstwhile Catholics, who are now suspicious of or not helped by notions of tradition, authority, ritual and community when it comes to their own spiritual growth which is now more individual and eclectic. We all need to step beyond our Churches’ perceived lack of authenticity and their moral focus on individual matters - more often than not, sexual. We know that the world is in a mess particularly with the state of the planet - climate change, loss of biodiversity and water shortages, but also with the oppression of the poor whose life basics are not assured by the operation of the free market, and with the clutter and violence of lives which are cheated the opportunity for interior peace. Francis wants all people of good will to emulate him and to be both joyful and troubled as they wrestle with the problems of the age. He is putting a spring in our step and providing us with a new sense of direction and purpose as God’s people at home in the world. Recently on his visit to the USA, Francis told the bishops gathered at Baltimore: ‘A Christianity which “does” little in practice, while incessantly “explaining” its teachings, is dangerously unbalanced. I would even say that it is stuck in a vicious circle.’ I commend the authors of this book for doing their part to help us all escape that vicious cycle.
Anthony Maher goes on to say in his Introduction:
[O]ne of the most encouraging developments in theology in the past sixty years is the emergence from the global south of liberation perspectives.
[T]he current work seeks to raise a clarion call to attract the support of three essential ecclesial constituencies within Oceania:
· first, to ecclesial bishops in Conference, that they be inspired by the example of Pope Francis to read more contextually the signs of the times;
· to the laity, that they may be encouraged to develop further their crucial role in building the kingdom through informed participation in Christ’s mission, and in the process, avoid what John Henry Newman described as a church, in which the educated classes will terminate in indifference, and the poorer in superstition.
· And finally, to our colleagues within the theological academy, that they may continue to embrace the ‘capstone’ dimension of pastoral-practical theology and strive collaboratively to reconnect theology to the lived life of faith, theologia in its fullest sense.
I think it appropriate also to refer to the chapter by your beloved Gerard Hall to whom the book is dedicated as an Inaugural Fellow of APTO. He is described as ‘a humble priest and a good man’. Typical of Gerard he has an enticing title for his chapter: ‘Are there really Angels in Oceania? Forging a new mysticism of place, time and history through dialogue among Oceanic peoples and traditions’. He writes:
A more poetic and existential expression of this ‘natural mysticism’ is presented by Ngangikurungkurr woman (Australian Northern Territory) Miriam Rose Ungunmerr-Baumann. In the language of her people, she tells us of the importance of Dadirri. She calls it ‘our most unique gift … perhaps the greatest gift we can give to our fellow Australians.’ Emphasising the more feminine approach to life, she describes dadirri as deep inner listening and quiet still awareness; or as a form of contemplation which is turned outward to the land and things about us as well as being deeply aware of the living springs within. There is a sense of the whole that includes the sacred reality of land or country and the realisation that human community is itself dependent on one’s shared connection to place and cosmos. While the emphasis of dadirri is on listening, it also includes story-telling, corroborees, smoking ceremonies, sounds of the didgeridoo and clapsticks. Dadirri ‘makes us feel whole again,’ part of tribe and country, and connects us to Mother Earth, Sacred Spirit or whatever words we use to describe the ultimate mystery of all life.
I have recently spent 10 days up at Daly River spending some time with Miriam Rose Ungunmerr who is interested in writing a book on her art and spirituality. I have been visiting that community for over 30 years. On this last visit, I found the community to be feeling more disempowered than ever. There are the quirks of nature interfering with their traditional life style. So many cane toads have migrated from Queensland that there are no longer any goannas available when the people go hunting for bush tucker. There are now too many crocodiles in the river, and the barramundi are sick. The people used to have their own small manageable local council, conducting their own affairs. They are now part of a super shire with the major decisions being made in Darwin and Katherine. While I was there, a public servant contacted to tell them that a meeting would be convened at 4.30pm on the Friday to discuss housing allocations. Anyone who convenes a meeting at that hour on an Aboriginal community is mad, malicious or stupid.
Miriam sat by the billabong with the thousands of water lilies and reflected with me about the kapok being carried in the breeze and the spirit of dadirri. In the midst of so much complex and destructive change, there is stillness and hope.
After most of the whitefellas had left for the weekend, we adjourned to a quite spot for a funeral ritual, the burning of the rags, commemorating deceased loved ones who had died 10 years before. It was time to mourn and weep one last time before the community, farewelling those who had walked amongst us.
In recent times, I have worked with Miriam who is setting up a foundation to assist families on remote communities which have had to deal with youth suicide. One of the strong inspirations for Miriamwanting to establish this Foundation was the death of her belovednephew Liam aged just twenty-two. The world knew Liam’s face asa baby but the world knew little of his story thereafter. As a babyhe evinced the warmest expressions of love and admiration fromstrangers across the globe who saw him on their television sets. Asa young man, he found no place of belonging in the world. He hadno sense that he was being held as he experienced the whirlwind oflife in Aboriginal Australia. In November 1986, Pope John Paul IIcame to Alice Springs, met Aboriginal people from across Australia,walked the dreaming track, donned the Aboriginal colours of black,red and yellow, and then held up baby Liam handed him by Liam’smother, Louise. The photo became an international icon. Cominginto adulthood, Liam found himself all alone with nowhere to go,nowhere to belong, and nowhere to be held.
Gerard concludes his chapter with this observation:
[W]e need to acknowledge that, in the hermeneutic task of intercultural and interreligious dialogue, it is the Indigenous peoples who have done most of the accommodating to the non-Indigenous other. If for no other reason than the crisis of our times, practical theology is called upon to engage in a genuinely mutual dialogue in which the experience of Indigenous peoples, especially their appreciation of the sacredness of the earth and the interdependence of all realities, inspire mystical consciousness and prophetic praxis.
Reading this observation, I was reminded of a visit I made to a country town many years ago. I was staying with the parish priest who lamented, ‘I don’t know what to do. Those Aborigines, they brought their kids to the Church for baptism but we never see them again.’ Next day I was across the river visiting the local Aborigines. They told me, ‘We can’t work out that priest. We take our kids to him for baptism but he never comes near us.’ Who are those who have done most of the accommodation? I am sure your member and new Fellow of APTO Joan Hendricks will attest to chasm of perspectives on the opposite banks of that river. In conclusion, I commend the ubiquitous religious publisher Hilary Regan on yet another triumph. Without Hilary’s tireless efforts, there is so much Australian, New Zealand and Oceana theology which would go unpublished and thus unread and unconsidered. We all owe a great debt to Hilary for single handedly bridging the divide. It’s with great pleasure that I now launch Bridging the Divide between Faith Theology and Life, entrusting this copy to your founding fellow and author Gerard Hall.
1