Sunday, March 27, 2016


The great fashion these days is to wish all and sundry a 'happy Easter'. It's part of the great Australian tradition of converting the special to the banal...happy Anzac day will be next; as incongruous as 'happy good Friday' which I once had inflicted upon me.

Never, never 'happy Easter' me!

I missed Good Friday church, but made it on Sunday.

The service followed the Uniting Church ligurgy, but with a difference: a meandering prayer-cum-sermon (a semon-prayer: they are as tiresome as they sound), and a  meandering communion with the president dressed up as an RC/high Anglican 'priest'.

I liked the stations of the cross around the auditorium: the physicalness of that rite is important, I think. Something that puritans (and therefore modern protestants) miss out on.

We were treated to a choir of Islander women regaling us with a song that (a) had not been rehearsed, and (b) no members appeared to be able to sing. Very sad.

Next time let's have some energy and commitment: a bunch of African Christians would do it: they'd set us on fire and to tears all at once!

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