I was on the phone the other day when the door bell rang. There was a delivery man with a large-ish box on the doorstep. I said to my colleague ‘My new agitator has arrived’. We had a bit of a giggle at the thought of my need for a new agitator because the fins of my old one were broken. After taking delivery of the box, and then completing my phone call, I was able to easily install the new agitator and consign the old one to the recycle bin. Our washing machine is once more as good as new.
I wonder whether there is a metaphor in this anecdote.
I come from what used to be called ‘Good Lutheran Stock’ with three quarters of my forebears coming to Australia from Prussia/Silesia/Germany in the 1860s. The other quarter might not have been so good as my grandfather was a chap from Sweden who jumped ship in Melbourne because of a falling out with the ship’s engineers probably because he fleeced them at cards.
I grew up and was schooled in Good Lutheran Schools in the Riverina and was head prefect during my last two years as we were the first class to go through to 6th Form in the NSW education system. Rather than follow in my sister’s footsteps and head to Adelaide for my higher education – and we were the first generation in our family to complete secondary school and go on to tertiary education – I set off to Sydney with its scarcity of Good Lutherans and the associated temptations that resulted from that.
In Sydney I hung out with a ragtag group of social work students with left leaning tendencies. This was in the late 1960s and early 1970s when most university students studied full time, and the education of many was made possible through Commonwealth Scholarships which not only paid University fees, but also provided a means tested allowance on which one could exist if one managed carefully. Others were financially supported by their parents as there was no provision for deferring fees at that time.
These were the times too of 20 year old men being called up for National Service, the Vietnam War and student demonstrations. In Sydney, the Builders Labourers Federation, headed by Jack Mundey, was instigating Green Bans and fighting to save the heritage buildings around town and real music was rocking the airwaves. There were moratorium marches to attend and there was some sort of demonstration on most Friday afternoons. I attended some of these and got caught up in the spirit of social change that was rife in those heady days. This was probably the time that my agitator/social justice awareness was first engaged.
I’m not sure what my family back home thought of these shenanigans, but there was never a word of criticism that I can recall.
On completing my studies, I was offered a job in South Australia working for the then Department for Community Welfare where I first encountered actual poverty and child abuse and neglect. This awoke an interest in foster care and adoptions and eventually led me to Lutheran Community Care where I worked in the foster care program there. The work highlighted to me the difficulties that families living in poverty face as well as the generosity of spirit of the foster families with whom I was working. We ran a program with the philosophy of ‘keeping families together when they have to live apart’ and some of the work that we did in that program to maintain contacts between the children and their birth families and foster families was ground breaking at that time. It became increasingly important to me that the voices of the children and of their birth families should be heard as should the voice of the foster families. This was not always easy to achieve.
After ten years or so, I became Director of Lutheran Community Care (LCC). I had said ‘if they want me to do the job, I’ll have to be asked’ – and there were several people who asked. This was the most humbling job I had ever undertaken. A significant part of my work was liaising with people in the Lutheran Church in South Australia and sharing with them about the work that we were doing. I recall when the first wave of refugees from Afghanistan, Iran and the surrounding areas started arriving. We secured a couple of small grants to provide basic services. There was a ground swell of anti-Muslim feeling in the church as in the wider community at that time and a lot of talk about ‘illegals’ and similar pejorative terms. At LCC we worked hard to dispel the myths and rumours and to provide factual information and education within the church and the wider community promoting the idea that these were vulnerable people and worthy of sharing the love of Christ – in fact the dual catch cry for the organisation became: Sharing the Love of Christ and Building Caring Communities.
The SA Council of Churches established a women’s group of Muslim and Christian women who met regularly and organised public seminars to further this education and to break down barriers. This was a group of exceptional women who were able to come together to share hospitality (one of the pillars of Islam) and to learn about each other. The fabulous morning teas that we shared were a bonus! A story about this group was featured in The Advertiser and I recall shortly after that a very earnest pastor coming up to me with a copy of the article and telling me that he was praying for the protection of my soul.
LCC went on to provide numerous services to refugees and to continue to welcome all those who came for assistance. Some went on to become volunteers, and I remember a Muslim woman with whom I struck up a friendship. She told me how she liked to go into the nearby Catholic church and sit near the statue of Mary and weep. It did not matter whether she was Muslim or Christian or Callithumpian – this woman who had suffered great loss and torture and trauma found comfort sitting with the statue of Jesus’ mother.
As Christians, we cannot reject people because of their race or culture or religion – or even gender. We have been created equal in God’s sight and we need to claim that equality and live that equality. But my word, sometimes it is difficult.
There have been occasions when I have felt constrained and restrained by my gender. Most of these have been within the church environment such as the time that I was not appointed to a position despite my appropriate experience – and someone with no experience but the right chromosomes was selected; or when I have been taking the minutes in a meeting where matters to do with women are being discussed but no woman is present; or when I have heard that the Hidden Hurts: Healing Hearts material about family violence has been ignored by pastors and congregations. The most infuriating though was when I was told by a male in a higher-ranking role that I should stay at home and be a good wife and mother. Well! I thought I was already doing that as well as holding down my job. That really got my agitator going!
I have been in leadership positions at school, at work, and within the church and the community. Sometimes I have been invited to assume those roles and at other times I have offered to do them. Why do I do this?
There are a few bible stories and texts that I keep coming back to. They are: the parable of the Good Samaritan – and the question ‘Who is my neighbour?’; the parable of the talents – which motivates me not to hide mine; the story of the sheep and the goats in Matthew 25; and the conviction that faith without works is dead (James 2). Underpinning all of these are the Great Command – to love one another – and the Great Commission – to go and make disciples of all.
These precepts ignore race, culture, age, or gender. They are all inclusive. And it’s time that we as Good Lutherans and Good Christians start living them.
I guess it’s obvious that we all may need a new Agitator!
