43) All the mute birds shall sing
I woke up before the alarm this morning. I’m not surprised – I’ve been doing little save resting and sleeping for the past forty-eight hours or more. Strange how your body keeps track, telling you when you’ve been overdoing things, and then forcing you to stop when you refuse to listen. And I guess by this morning, my body sensed that it had fought off enough of the virus and I could get back to work.
Mick died this morning. I think we all knew that it would happen this week. I'm glad that I saw him four times during the past week, and that I was able to pray with him, and to read from the Psalms. “And I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.” Rest in peace, friend.
And so, this morning, I sat in the early dawn light with a cup of tea and logged-on to watch the News – trouble almost everywhere, war in Ukraine, devastation in Gaza. Those poor souls in Gaza! This feeling of utter helplessness to stop the killing that takes my breath away. Only last week, a resident at Resthaven, Frances, told me that she found the world to be a frightening place. Together, we reminded ourselves of the good that remains, and of all the good people – the helpers – still doing all they can to stem the violent tide. But this morning, sitting in the dim light, watching unconscionable images of destruction and grieving, and counting the numbers, and the mounting sorrows, I could hear the echoes of Frances’ words, and feel her fear.
Blessed are the peacemakers, blessed are the meek… God, what can I do? God, what must I do?
“He has told you what is good and what it is the Lord requires of you:
to act justly, to love faithfulness, and to walk humbly with your God.”“For I was hungry and you gave Me something to eat;
I was thirsty and you gave Me something to drink;
I was a stranger and you took Me in;
I was naked and you clothed Me;
I was sick and you took care of Me;
I was in prison and you visited Me.”
Now is not the time for me to escape. Now is not the time to disappear into the bush and shut out the noise. Now is not the time for me to turn away from the news, but to take a stand against what I am witnessing. To stand against violence. To stand for peace, for justice, and on behalf of those who have no voice. Now is the time for me to get involved, and not turn a blind eye. No matter how tempting it is to pull back the covers over my head and return to dreamland. What did Mother Teresa say, “If there are poor on the moon, we’ll go there too!” My conscience – my faith – won’t let me stick my head in the sand this time. However difficult, however frightening, my diaconal heart won’t let me blend in with the silent majority in my denomination whose silence only serves to aid an oppressor. I remember a conversation I had years ago for an inner-city deacon role. One panel member said, “we just want to come to church.” Keep all that talk of activism to yourself…
Lord, have mercy.
One year ago this week, a thousand of us gathered around the steps of Parliament House to protest the violence in Gaza. Over the past decade I’ve stood in that same spot in support of refugees, or for the right for same-sex couples to marry. I’ve held candles at vigils for refugees, stood on a picket line, and marched for some cause or other on three continents around the world. But what have I done lately in the name of love and justice?
For the past few years, I’ve retreated often into the nearby bushland of the Southern Lofty Ranges. I know the blessings I’ve received during those times of refreshing, and they have literally helped me to keep going. In truth, those precious moments should have served to send me back into the world to minister to the hurting, and to advocate for justice.
This past year especially, I’ve found myself daydreaming about the day when I’ll be living back in England. I recently sent Midge a link to the UK Wildlife Trust’s website. How I would love to be exploring those wild places of Britain with Midge right now... Midge doesn’t live too far from Strawberry Cottage Wood. It sounds so perfect - an ancient oak woodland, complete with kingfishers and otters if you’re fortunate enough to spot them. At this time of year, the ground would be lush with bluebells and violets. Spring in the UK is such a time of promise and beauty. Last year I spent a joyful spring fortnight in the English countryside looking at fritillaries, anemones, cowslips, and early purple orchids. It’s the very same heart-lifting joy that I get when the Pheladenia deformis – the blue fairies – make their welcome return to the Australian bush in late August each year.
I’m reminded of that line from Conroy’s novel, “I look to the north and wish again that there were two lives apportioned to every man and woman.” Wouldn’t it be wonderful to see spring in both places each year! Wouldn’t it be great if every day was springtime. But of course, that’s not how it works. We have one life, and we must let our one life speak. There are more seasons than spring, and each season has its unique work for us to do. Right now, there is so much work to do, to prepare for spring, to make way for hopefulness to flourish again. Like Kramer says in his poem:
“Come, let us sweep the old streets – like a bride:
sweep out dead leaves with a relentless broom;
prepare for Spring, as though he were our groom
for whose light footstep we eagerly bide…
and when he comes, all the mute birds shall sing.”
And when spring comes, all the mute birds shall sing. I need to do my part. And until spring comes, and the oppressed and needy recover their voice, I will speak up for those who are mute. Like we read,
“Speak up for those who have no voice, for the justice of all who are dispossessed.
Speak up, judge righteously, and defend the cause of the oppressed and needy.”
There is so much work to be done. There is so much that needs to be said. Gibson says,
“Never go a second hushing the percussion of your heart. Play loud.
Play like you know the clouds have left too many people cold and broken
and you’re their last chance for sun…
You have a song like a breath that could raise us like the sunrise into a dark sky that cries to be blue”
Yes, the clouds have left too many people cold and broken. But what can I do right now to help usher in a new dawn for them? I believe the Kingdom of God has come near. It is the song like a breath that could raise us! It doesn’t come with bombs and terror. It doesn’t come with silence and inaction. It comes with a voice of protest and hands ready to do what they can to end the suffering.
“Bring Your kingdom into our hearts, into our families and communities,
into the nations throughout the world.
Make Your purposes our purposes.
Take us into the trenches of Your work.
Show us how we can bring peace and justice, and help people flourish.
Lead us into service, for Your glory. Amen.”
God, put my hands to work in the name of peace, and set my voice to work in the name of justice.
Olly Ponsonby, March 2025
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Scripture refs. Include Ps 23:6, Mt 5:9, Mt 5:5, Mic 6:8, Mt 25:35-36, Prov 31:8-9, Mk 1:15.
Mick and Frances have had their names changed.
“If there are poor people…” quote by Mother Teresa, from “In My Own Words” compilation, 1996.
“I look to the north…” quote from “The Prince of Tides” by Pat Conroy, 1986.
“Let Your Life Speak” is by Parker Palmer, 1999.
“Come let us sweep…” quote from Aaron Kramer, “Prothalamium” in “Thunder in the Grass”, 1948.
“Never go a second…” quote from “Say Yes”, in “Pole dancing to Gospel hymns”, 2008. Phrasing altered.
“Bring Your kingdom into our hearts…” prayer by Carrie Marrs, in “A Prayer for Every Occasion,” compilation 2020.