Forty years ago, I was in the last six months of a three-year research project at St the Sunday of Epiphany – Geoff Stevenson Vincent’s Hospital in the Department of Immunology. The research area was atopic disease – allergies, eczema etc. Although we were building on work my boss did overseas, it didn’t progress far due to a variety of factors, not least the emergence of the HIV/AIDS epidemic in Sydney.
We were recently captivated by the mission of Artemis 2 and the exploration of space and the dark side of the moon. Even though this was very near to Earth, it reveals that vast distance beyond our imagining, along with the vastness of space that is beyond our comprehension. Images of space from Artemis 2 and many other sources, including the James Webb telescope provide images of the universe that are staggering. I look with fascination but cannot comprehend the immensity of everything I am viewing.
I’ve been reading a crime fiction novel by Michael Connolly. It is the latest in the ‘Lincoln Lawyer’ series, so named because as a criminal defence lawyer Mickey Haller rode in Lincoln Town cars and used them as his mobile office. Mickey is now in civil law, prosecuting cases for those treated unfairly. He is looking to make the world a better place and finds himself in a David and Goliath battle with a large IT company that is the subject of a $1 billion takeover. The company has AI apps that are aimed at young people, teenagers.
Kon Karapanagiotidis grew up in a small town in rural Victoria, the son of an immigrant family – refugee grandparents who had escaped war and struggle in their homeland. He was different in a school where everyone else looked, sounded and acted the same. His name was long and difficult to say – too many letters and syllables.
As I wandered the city streets, I pondered. I pondered the decline of the engagement in religious life in our fair land. I explored, in my mind, the ways in which our world has shifted these last several decades.
If you don’t know where you are going, you will not know the way. Fairly obvious I suppose but the reality for most people in life. Do we know where we’re going? Do we know the way to where we think we are heading?
Danish philosopher/theologian, Soren Kierkegaard, told several stories growing up in rural Denmark – many about geese! One story was about the geese who used to make their home on his childhood farm. Each spring he would watch as a new gaggle of goslings hatched and grow.
Greenday I walk a lonely road/The only one that I have ever known Don't know where it goes/But it's home to me, and I walk alone I walk this empty street/On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams Where the city sleeps/And I'm the only one, and I walk alone I walk alone, I walk alone/I walk alone, I walk a-lone My shadow's the only one that walks beside me My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating Sometimes, I wish someone out there will find me/'Til then, I walk alone Al Dubin and Harry Warren I walk along the street of sorrow/The boulevard of broken dreams Where gigolo and gigolette/Can take a kiss without regret So they forget their broken dreams You laugh tonight and cry tomorrow/When you behold your shattered dreams And gigolo and gigolette/Awake to find their eyes are wet With tears that tell of broken dreams
I read a story of a couple who went to the theatre – Tony Campolo and his wife. The show was The Man of La Mancha, and the enigmatic Don Quixote. As they sat in wonderful seats near the front, taking in the story and music, the man was distracted by the woman next to him. She was whispering to her husband, but the hushed tones grew louder: ‘Stop that. You’re embarrassing me. Stop it!’ The man surreptitiously leaned forward and glanced sideways to see a man dressed in a fine suite and tie, very respectable in every way.
A few years ago, there were a couple of different houses built in our street. I watched with fascination as they dug around 70 holes to provide deep and stable foundations. I remember one section where the hole digger (technical term for the large boring drill) kept going down deeper and deeper.
I had a child in the Scripture class I taught some years ago. He was quite hyperactive and quite smart. It was clear he was largely bored with Scripture, which was a combined year 6 Protestant group that 3 of us co-led.
There’s a bloke that used to stand on a corner opposite Westfields Parramatta. There, at the lights, he spruiks his particular line of religious belief with passion and desperation. Occasionally someone will sidle up and engage him in a conversation that encourages and affirms his hard-line, narrow stance. Occasionally someone who had time and energy to take him on did so, but he gave no ground. His size and fierce, passionate manner was intimidating, and most people simply ignored him and couldn’t wait to cross the road.