Summer may be warming the children of the north at this time of year, but it is a very different story here by Bondi Beach in New South Wales, where a chilly winter has the local Catholics in its gloomy grip. Thousands still head to the beach even in the winter, but not to the water, where just a few degrees separate comfort from discomfort and the need for a wetsuit. I try to reassure visitors that being eaten by a shark is highly unlikely, but can’t be completely discounted and they quail ever so slightly. Such is the price we pay for our quality of life.
It’s Sydney, so most days of the year, even in winter, will be sunny, but now the rain and clouds have come and we are not used to them; they strike us with baffling brutality. We wrap up and cover and huddle against the cold. The churches are not heated and I apologise to foreign tourists (we have many) who must be disappointed coming to the famous beach and hoping for suitable weather. “I’m sorry we have put on such a poor display for you,” I say to a devout Irish woman who has been to daily Mass during her visit. “Oh, no, Father,” she says. “It’s just like summer back home!”
We keep ourselves warm as we can. This year I managed it by preparing for my 25th anniversary of ordination. Any excuse for a party. It’s rather like planning one’s own funeral and actually being present to enjoy it. The choir was splendid – Palestrina, Purcell, Bruckner, etc. Something for everyone. All the altars covered in relics, candles, lights, medieval vestments, friends galore, huge goodwill. Amid all the hubbub, my own thoughts pass back over the quarter-century to the faces no longer here, of friends and my own parents who wait for me across the great divide. Of other friends cut off by great distance and of all the other Masses I have offered, no less precious, as the years have passed. I have been very blessed.
Not least among my blessings is the beautiful parish here. It is a small parish, two pretty churches and a predominantly young congregation. None of them is here out of convention. They are all here by deliberate and fixed choice. They love their Faith and want to live it better. I see especially that the young love the Blessed Sacrament. Only the stoniest heart could fail to be moved by the tender devotion and reverence they show. They make me want to be a better priest. Here, surely, are those “signs of the times” that the Second Vatican Council spoke of. Let the reader understand.
One note of difference strikes me this year. Every northern summer was the occasion for our late Cardinal Pell to escape the heat by travelling back home and visiting his many friends. This year there will be no greetings and we are all feeling the loss keenly. No more cheeky conversations, indiscreet anecdotes or words of quiet encouragement. Meanwhile, his tomb in the cathedral has become a place of prayer and pilgrimage, an eventuality that would have amazed him in his own lifetime. He is greatly missed.
Our young parishioners are especially hospitable and we have had some delightful visitors lately from all over the world who have joined us for a few months before returning northwards, having made great friends and discovered the bonds of faith that make them instantly part of the family all over the world. They have all commented on the warmth of the community and it’s a joy to behold. It’s certainly a warmth that substitutes for the weather. Each passing week brings us closer to spring and the wonderful, unique flora that make Australia different from just about anywhere else. There’s always something to look forward to and God is very good.
Fr Anthony Robbie is parish priest of Bondi Beach, New South Wales, Australia.
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