UNDER THE APPLE TREE
Monthly ministerial musings by The Reverend Jeffery Brown

… or today, under the eucalyptus tree, mate! Australia greets us with sunny skies and moderate temperatures. Like Canada, Australia is a country dominated by a vast, sweeping landscape. Human civilization appears to survive (and to thrive) on the margins of overwhelming natural scenery.

Thus it feels fitting that Kate and I spend our first full day here in the wilderness. (Also helping our decision: the forecasters keep promising rain for the following days - something that, gratefully, doesn’t happen.)

We join a small trekking tour that hikes into the Blue Mountains outside Sydney. We bus onto the Great Dividing Range and descend into the Grand Canyon, one on the other side of the world. We watch kangaroos and cockatoos loll about in their own habitat and carefully tramp through small rainforests. It’s an incredible introduction to Australia’s unique ecosystem.

Then back to human habitation. We turn to the vibrancy of Sydney itself. I hadn’t known quite what to expect when, still in Canada, I had booked a room over a pub in the heart of Sydney. I wonder even more as we saunter by the bar on our first night as we climb the stairs to our rooms. There’s a live band blasting out Irish tunes from the stage. Sleep comes easily, though, through raucous music two stories below to clanging, empty beer kegs hefted onto trucks very early the next morning.

Sunday arrives, and I go out for an early morning run to locate the local Unitarian congregation. It’s just off Hyde Park in downtown Sydney, an unprepossessing presence at the base of a high-rise apartment building. A stained-glass chalice and an entrance break an otherwise solid, bland, concrete facade.

Taped to the glass beside the door, I read “Sydney Unitarian Church (established 1850) WELCOMES YOU.” I note that the morning’s topic has potential - “The Hijacking of Christianity”- and that the service begins at 10:30, enough time to get back, shower, eat breakfast, and return.

Kate and I come back at 10:30. A sandwich board is now out on the sidewalk with the same information as is in the window. We try the door . . . locked. We ring the bell . . . nothing. Again and again .... nothing. Pounding on the door brings no response. I sneak into the apartment building above and discover no alternate way in. After ten minutes of futile knocking, pounding, and ringing we surrender. There is no way we are welcome at this morning’s service.

Since the New South Wales art gallery is four blocks away, we stroll leisurely to a new destination. We know it will welcome us! We walk into a light-filled atrium and approach the information kiosk - only to discover from one of the volunteers that it is now 10:15! Australian daylight savings had occurred early Sunday morning. We are operating an hour ahead of everyone else.

We rush back to the Unitarian Church and walk in just as the service begins. We hear familiar words and sing familiar hymns. Afterwards we move into their social hall for a time of fellowship and refreshment. So much feels comfortable and similar.

Yet so much is different, too. There are perhaps two dozen of us - a majority visitors - and there are no children. The exuberance and energy that pervades our gatherings in Mississauga is lacking, too. I experience the seriousness of our “reasonable religion” without the sense of hope and joy that is also a part of our faith. How does the wonder of our daily living show up in the service I just attended?

Looking forward to seeing you all on May 4 when we will be spirited.

Jeff