Eddie slept well and rose early. He was aware of a few surprised glances as he began the Introductory prayers of his first Mass. But he was more aware, as he faced the congregation, of the lack of brown faces in the congregation. He had expected that his congregation would be predominantly Aboriginal. But, instead, Aboriginal faces in this congregation were a small minority. The same situation arose at the second Mass. Instead of a homily, he spoke on his Aboriginal heritage, intertwined with his white Australian upbringing. He was delighted that most of the congregation welcomed him as they left the Church. He was also aware, not only of the feeling of awe that always came over him as he lifted the host and the cup – ‘do this in memory of Me’ – but also today of the strong call to the needs of his heritage.
“We’ll have lunch at the pub,” Shamus had advised him earlier that day. “Maisie was going to come in, but she always has Sunday off. So I told her we’ll have lunch at the pub.”
Again, Eddie was surprised – this time at the modern upgrading of the main hotel.
“Good afternoon, Bert,” Shamus greeted the young man behind the lounge bar.
“Good afternoon,” the young man frowned as he answered. “Mons, I’m sorry but this, er, young gentleman cannot enter here!”
“Eh! What’s up with you! I always go through this way to the dining room!”
“Yes… but,” Bert stammered. “Abos… Sorry, Aboriginals – aren’t allowed in here.”
“What!” Monsignor’s anger was on the boil. “What do you mean! Eddie is my curate – an ordained minister. You can’t be serious!”
Although Bert had witnessed outbursts of Monsignor Murphy’s anger and the outcomes, and could easily be intimidated, he knew to break this rule for anyone could lead to his dismissal.
“Sorry, Mons, but they are the rules. And I would lose my job if I break them.”
“Rules!” the very flushed Monsignor Murphy bellowed. “We’ll see about your rules!”
Bert’s courage began to fade as he became aware of the interest of the increasing number of bystanders.
“It’s okay Shamus. Really it is. I half expected something like this.” Eddie spoke softly as he gently touched Monsignor Murphy’s arm. “You go in and have your lunch. I’ll meet you at home.”
“Indeed you won’t!” the Monsignor shouted. “And indeed I won’t ever have another bite in this… this…”
Eddie took his arm and steered him out of the hotel and toward the car park.
Once in the car park Eddie quickly searched his pastor’s face for signs of trouble.
“You know, Shamus, this is not a slight at me, or at my priesthood. It’s the historical imbalance of acceptance of the Aboriginal culture. We are seen as inferior. The situation is changing – but very slowly. I know you accept me as a person and will judge me as you see a Christian should be – and I am very grateful for that. But, in the present Australian society I am an Aboriginal – and, as such, am inferior to any white Australian. I don’t accept it and I will endeavour to change it in any way I can. But, not in violence! And… I don’t want you going without your dinner on my account. So, how about you return and I’ll pick you up in an hour or so.”
Shamus had listened quietly. But now, as his complexion once more glowed, he shouted, “I will not! I will not enter that place again!”
The thought crossed Eddie’s mind, had Shamus – or any other ‘white’ Australian priest for that matter – ever considered this situation before he came to the hotel for his dinner?
No, he decided, I will not go down that path!
Instead, he touched his pastor lightly on the arm. “Okay. I’ll just get us a couple of bottles of something – a good whisky anyway!” He smiled. “Won’t be long!”
Unlike the morning experience, as he entered the public bar, the very few white faces that looked up at him were certainly in the minority. The bar was full.
As Eddie stood waiting his turn, the tall man standing next to him turned, “You’re the new minister, aren’t you? Welcome to Bre.”
“Thanks,” Eddie replied as he offered his hand. “Eddie.”
“Jim,” over a strong hand-shake. “We heard about your coming. Hope you’ll be very happy here.”
“Thanks, Jim. Good to meet you. Do you live here?”
“I’m the head stockman out at ‘Yugali’ – a big station west of Bre. We – wife and three young kids – live in a cottage out there. Wife’s Anglican; we were married in the local Anglican Church; I just go along. Any time you’d be very welcome for a meal out with us. You probably met the boss family at Church this morning – they’re Catholics from way back.”
“Possibly, Jim. But I must admit I picked up a name only here and there!”
Eventually both were served, and both returned to their respective cars. By then the Monsignor’s anger had abated – but only slightly. As the day progressed and Eddie produced a tasty lunch from left-overs in the fridge, he almost returned to normal. Months later Eddie would add with a grin, “Normal for Mons.!”
“Not a bad lunch, Eddie!”
“Thanks, Shamus. I don’t mind cooking now and then.”
“Now – for the week. Still school holidays. Gives you more time to get used to the place. All weekday Masses are in town at 7.30am. Mondays – day off – usually go to Forbes for lunch – earlier if you want to play golf with the boys. I don’t feel like going over this week, but you can if you like.”
“Thanks Shamus. But this week I’ll get used to here and what goes on.”
As he celebrated Mass the next morning, Eddie was again aware of the very few Aboriginal faces in the congregation. And, of the handful present, all were middle-aged or over. Where are the young? was a question that stayed with him all morning.
After lunch, ably prepared and served by Maisie, Shamus announced he needed a rest.
“I thought I’d go for a walk – to check out the town,” Eddie smiled.
“Go to it,” his pastor agreed.
As he walked Eddie was besieged by questions – where are the young Aboriginals? How do I find them? what can I do for them if I do find them? These questions persisted as he became acquainted with the geography of the town. By the time he had reached home another question popped up – where do I start? Immediately he knew the answer to that question.
After tea while Shamus was listening to the news, Eddie phoned Jim. After a fruitful conversation, Eddie could see the beginning to one of his hopes taking shape.