At breakfast the next morning Shamus wasted little time in presenting his plans for the Aboriginal population.
“Well, Eddie, I’ve decided you will be able to show the people here the Aboriginal side of the Catholic church. What we’ll do is start with some type of prayer session in the Church on one night a week for the young people. You have the Aboriginal face but you also have the ability to relate to the young white kids.”
Rather taken aback, Eddie realized it was now or never to present his ideas.
“That sounds a great idea, Shamus. But not yet, too early. From what I can see we have very few young people attending weekend liturgies – and next to none Aboriginal. That day, hopefully, will come. But, I’d guess, not for a fair while. As I walked yesterday I found an old hall. I had hoped the Church would own one – but that day may come. Well… I’ve made some enquiries and I may be able to rent this hall and start a sporting activity or two. I’ll find out more about the hall later.”
As he spoke he noticed colour creeping into Monsignor’s face and the pursing of his lips.
“So! You were ordained to be a sports coach, not a priest!” Shamus almost shouted.
“No, Shamus! First and foremost I’m a priest. But I’m also an Aboriginal. And I don’t have to remind you of how my race has been treated!”
“Stop this foolishness!” Shamus began.
“No, Shamus,” Eddie broke in. “I would be as happy as you – perhaps even happier – if even a small percentage of my people trusted us enough to come to liturgies or Church activities. But we both know the face of God has not been shown too often to the Aboriginal people up until now. I’d like to think things are changing – and there does seem to be a breath of change in the air.
“But before you or even I, who is a part of their ancestry, can open doors to a loving God, we have to show them understanding and trust. And I think – and ardently hope – that this beginning may also be the beginning of doors opening. At least it’s a try. And if anyone comes along they should enjoy it!”
“I’ll hear no more!” Monsignor shouted as he marched to the door. With a loud bang, he was gone.
I didn’t manage that well, Eddie thought dejectedly.
The Monsignor was nowhere to be seen as Eddie drove off. Pulling in at the rear of the Yugali homestead, he was met, but hardly welcomed, by a handful of blue heelers. To his relief Jim appeared and the frenetic barking eased.
“Welcome Eddie!”
“Thanks Jim. And thanks for saving me,” Eddie laughed.
As he closed the car door he was aware that Jim was not alone.
“Eddie,” Jim broke in. “Here is my boss, Dave Clarke, and his daughter Debbie.”
Eddie knew from the strong handshakes that he had allies.
“Come in.” Debbie was first to speak. “We’re leading you into the kitchen. We seem to entertain friends there.”
“Great,” Eddie smiled back. “I’m a friend already.”
Over tea and home-made scones the future of the little old hall in town was discussed, with Debbie opening the subject.
“Jim tells us you have ideas for our old hall.”
Eddie looked up, surprised.
“Yes,” Dave joined in. “We own the hall. Once it was used for dances every Saturday night.”
“But now,” he added with a smile, “it’s used only at election time. Of course you can use it, free of charge. What had you planned to do?”
“Thank you so much! Free of charge! That will be a great help. I thought I’d start with games, and, if we get enough interested, basketball, indoor soccer, teams – that sort of thing. It’s all a bit vague. But I’m hoping once I can say we have a place, we’ll try to advertise. I think I’ll start with kids from high school. And just one evening a week – perhaps 5 to 9 o’clock or thereabouts. I’ve got to get the Mons. on side. And that might be the hardest!”
Dave laughed. “I can imagine. But I think he’ll come around. He’s a good old bloke, with a bark worse than his bite!”
I’ve heard that before, thought Eddie.
“And another thing,” Dave added. “I am impressed with your aims. I have told Jim that he’s free to help you get the place set up. And my contribution will be nets and balls for indoor basketball and soccer.”
Eddie gulped. He was touched beyond words.
“Dave, I don’t know how to thank you!”
“Eddie. You don’t have to thank me. I’m just doing my bit. With all of us doing our ‘bits’ something will happen.”
Eddie drove home, elated. A plan was emerging. Jim was to meet him at the Hall the next day. They would then sum up what had to be done and, perhaps, do something about it.
As he parked his car and ran into the presbytery, reality dawned. How would the Monsignor greet him? Or would he ignore him? How would he relate the plans of what he had set in motion?
“Just in time!” Maisie beamed as he sprinted through the kitchen. “Monsignor has just returned so I’ll be serving up dinner very shortly. Go and wash your hands.”
Monsignor was already seated at the table as Eddie entered the dining room.
“Hi, Shamus. How’s your day been?” Better to throw caution to the wind, Eddie thought.
“Fine.”
“Anything interesting this morning?”
“No!”
At least he is talking, Eddie thought.
Maisie entered with their dinners, that were eaten in silence.
As Shamus rose to leave the room he looked back at Eddie.
“What you’re doing is ridiculous. I don’t want to hear about it. I won’t stop you, but don’t expect my help!”
“Thanks Shamus. Have you any questions?”
“No!” And he had left the room.
At least, thought Eddie, he’s not stopping me. That is a bonus!
As the days wore on and days turned to weeks, the Monsignor’s attitude slowly began to change. No longer did they communicate in silence. But the return to verbal communication did not include any mention of Eddie’s project.
True to Dave’s word, Jim was given time out and gladly assisted Eddie for the first week, during which time they almost completed the heavy cleaning and moving tasks. School resumed the next week. Eddie knew he needed to give due time to the vocation he had accepted. The resumption of school signalled the resumption of Scripture classes, sacramental preparation and many other pastoral care calls, along with the ongoing hospital and sick calls to be met.