Compassion for others - Elizabeth Pike

From the stump of Jesse a shoot will come forth
From this shoot a branch will grow and bear fruit.
Isaiah 11: 1

So many people will be haunted for the rest of their lives by the tragedies that occurred during the bushfires and floods during the summer of 2009. The deep pain and heartrending torture endured by so many families is so great it is impossible to comprehend or even speak about. A more appropriate thing would be to continue holding those people close within our hearts, praying with hope and trust that some measure of healing may begin to occur. It is also necessary to remember the healing of the land which will take many years to recover, even though our cherished land has great power to rebirth.

For me personally, the quiet dignity of the major bush-fire memorial service that I saw on television was one that conveyed a feeling of awe and hope, in spite of the fact that this country is considered to be one of the most secular in the world. The compassion shown by the civic leaders who spoke that day gave me the feeling that there is a deep spiritual root in the hearts of the people of this land, one that is found in the ordinary every day things of our lives.

Another aspect that seemed to lie beneath the service was the spirit that runs deep in our hearts during Anzac Day. I saw in it the power of the Eternal Spirit that abides in us when we witness and remember the strength and courage of those who give their lives for the benefit of others. Anzac is not a celebration of death and war, but a celebration of the human spirit that transcends life’s tragedies.

This is something that we must treasure and remember always to celebrate.

As I reflected further on the many different stories of courage, the more I began to wonder about the unique heritage belonging to this land. Generally speaking, religion is equated with church membership and attendance. But I often sense that the true spirit of any religion is witnessed when hearts are awakened when touched with a deep and abiding compassion for another. This is brought out strongly in the healings that Jesus poured out on the sick and needy in his day.

I think it was Les Murray, the great Australian poet, who once made the comment, ‘Australians are slow to talk religion, but will talk spirituality all day.’ It seems then, that the Sirit flows deep, like a quiet stream beneath the earth and our people. It is there, hidden, not displayed. It needs to be nourished and lived within its own Australian environment, not crushed by someone else’s way of expressing it.

This thought brought to mind an experience I had when travelling with an Aboriginal elder beyond Alice Springs. The conversation turned to the people’s skill in finding water. A little further on, he stopped the vehicle and told me to walk across an area of ground and come back. ‘Did you see any water ?’ ‘No’, I said. ‘Now let us walk across that same ground again, pressing down hard with our feet.’ Sure enough, water seeped slowly through the earth.

It is this ancient wisdom knowledge and understanding that Aboriginal people had with their land that bonded them as one with the Spirit of all creation.

Another story to share comes from Bruce Chatwin’s novel, The Songlines.

It explains something of our people’s spiritual idea of sacrifice, at the same time revealing the conflict and poignancy that exists between the Euro and Aboriginal attitude in their practices.

The Aboriginals … never understood why the Missionaries forbade their innocent sacrifices. They slaughtered no victims, human or animal. Instead, when they wished to thank the earth for its gifts, they would simply slit a vein in their forearm and let their own blood splatter the ground. ‘Not a heavy price to pay’, he [Arkady] said. ‘The wars of the century are the price for having taken too much.’

The humanism that characterised the Renaissance gave rise to the ego’s desire to be rid of the past, its myths and superstitions. Modern humanity formed itself by a series of denials and refusals, but has remained haunted by the realities that it has refused and denied. Humanism, science and the intellect conspired to create a secular world. Humanism has performed many social and political miracles, and we are all better off, it is true. But are we better people? Humanism has brought many to an impoverished culture, environment and spirit.

It appears to need a tragedy to awaken us to take a look at what is happening. The whole earth is crying out with bush fires, floods, tsunamis and earthquakes, along with enormous accounts of greed and corruption that inflict destruction on us. So we must listen desperately. The gap that has to be bridged is that between the spirit of the earth that Aboriginal people lived in harmony with, and the secular humanism of the ego. The choice is ours—if it is not already too late.

I believe, in the light of our recent natural tragedies, that a seed has been sown in many minds and hearts, my own included. The Aboriginal spirit that lies deep in our land is the keystone to rebirthing our attitudes toward our land and the deep eternal spirit within us all.

There is so much to think about here. We could do some reflection, for example, on the relationship between Mary and the femininity of the Land, our mother, but more about that later. In the meantime, let us all keep praying and living in the hope and certainty that light will always conquer the darkness.