MY JOURNEY OF FAITH - by Alice Sephton
Coping with post-Christmas letter depression - by Rob Siedle
The Dot Com Crash - by Neil Nyholm
Poem - "He gave . . ." - by Julie Packianathan
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| Alice Sephton |
My journey of faith has been a long one and the five years I have had with St John’s Camberwell have been particularly fulfilling.
My first visit to St John’s was to attend the confirmation class. This was a great way to spend the Sunday afternoon. I remember at 3 pm it was the confirmation class, at 4 pm the youth group, at 5 pm dinner, and then came the Taize service at 6 pm. It was a wonderful way to start to get to know God and, at the same time, to grow as a person and prepare for confirmation.
At this stage, I did not know too much about God, but I was ready and willing. The confirmation was a turning point in my life – looking back, I believe it was the beginning of my journey of faith at St John’s.
However, I was to stray from the path for about two years because I started reading horoscopes and dream dictionaries and having my fortune read. I think I was searching for something and I did not know what it was. I was going to church, but I still did not know God. God was trying to show me the way, but I was not listening, I think. It wasn’t until October that mum saw me reading horoscopes and suggested I stop because they were becoming an obsession.
The following year I thought I would attempt to read the Bible in one year, and I succeeded. It seemed that, finally, I was learning about God and all of the wonderful things he was doing for me in my life. I also became involved with the Angelus. This gave me even more confidence, and I felt called to do the rosary. I didn’t start praying the rosary until the start of 2007. Sometimes I find it hard to be motivated to pray the rosary; but afterwards, I know that God is listening and it is another way of getting close to Him.
The people at St John’s are very caring. They have helped me in my journey of faith in Christ. They have also supported me in my many ups and downs. I really enjoy sharing stories and opinions with them. Sometimes I am the one who does the most talking!
I love going to church each Sunday as it helps me with my week ahead and enables me to view my life from a fresh perspective. I am also involved with the Sunday school, where there are always fresh ideas about what to do each week thanks to the initiatives of Clare Tomasov and other members of the committee. I love interacting with the children at the Sunday School, and hope to have some of my own one day.
St John’s is a loving and caring community. Come along and be a part of it!
Alice Sephton
About ten years ago, I foolishly sent a Christmas family newsletter, inserted in the Christmas card, to a group of friends. Little did I realise that I had created a monster that would come back to haunt our family.
One by one, our friends have adopted the practice of enclosing a newsletter. With fiendish glee, they record the academic and sporting achievements of their children, their travels to luxury holiday destinations, and the awards they have won for community services.
The result is that we dread opening our Christmas mail, and, as we read of these achievements, we plunge deeper and deeper into post-Christmas letter depression, with feelings of envy, inadequacy, hopelessness, and - let it be said - loathing for the writers. But we are powerless to stop the annual barrage of self-congratulations.
Anthea (I use false names to conceal the identity of the writers) reports that her husband has been elected Doctor of the Year in their community, while the oldest son is dux in Latin, Maths, and Indonesian language. The youngest child (9) has taken up golf and is already playing off a scratch handicap.
Christine's newsletter is so outrageous that a member of our family has scrawled "This is ridiculous" on it before it reaches me. In January, Christine and her husband (who have retired) were windsurfing in Bali; in February they took a bus tour through India; then back to Australia for the big bike ride across New South Wales; next, a four-wheel safari across the Simpson desert; in August, their usual cycling tour of Europe. The son has completed his MBA at Harvard, while the daughter is in the final group for the physics prize at university.
Christine expects 2002 to be more rewarding - first a trip to Antartica, then a tour of Chile ( and she has already booked a weekend in Paris, using Frequent Flyer points).
George reports that he has been awarded a Churchill Fellowship, while his wife will, again, be a judge in the coming winter Olympics.
We breathe an initial sigh of relief when we read in the newsletter from the Murgatroyds that this year they have, modestly, decided to let the children (aged 8 and 10) write the newsletter. But, alas, there is little respite for us as the children write: "Dad is now the professor in two faculties - Engineering and IT - being the first Australian to achieve this distinction.
His private practice is flourishing, and he has opened offices in New York, Paris, and Beijing. Mother has had a quiet year working on her second PhD; her psychiatric practice is now making a lot of money, so that she says she will be able to retire when she is 45."
Christmas is over, and - thankfully - the last Christmas newsletter has been read. Well fortified with anti-depression pills, we think matters over, and wonder if we can ever put finger to keyboard again to write our puny newsletter. Who wants to hear about our feats of working a half-day, visiting the local cinema once a fortnight, watching the news on TV, and ordering the weekly Chinese take-away meal?
Fortunately, one consolation remains. We are in the lounge, and all the newsletters have been placed in the grate - with a smile of infinite satisfaction, I light a match.
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Looking westward from the tranquil setting of Melbourne's Treasury Gardens, office workers enjoying a stroll during their lunch break can view the tall buildings rising like giant icebergs at the top of Collins Street, the heart of Melbourne's business district. These buildings house some of Australia's most influential corporations and, from the outside, they are a magnificent sight; conveying an impression of profitable enterprise, success and affluence.
All of these outward indicators seem to contradict the reality of what is actually happening inside many of those imposing buildings. It is not just the recent, widely publicised corporate collapses of HIH, Onetel and Ansett. It is the silent redundancies and sackings in a myriad of other companies across the broad spectrum of commerce and industry that is also of great concern. Whilst some companies continue to make large profits, pressures on their margins are forcing them to lay off staff. Smaller enterprises are feeling the down-stream pain from the larger companies cutting back and are also having to downsize their staff numbers as a result.
The pain of job losses is being felt by even the most competent and well regarded employees. Years of service, knowledge and experience are no longer a safeguard to job security. Staff that were layed off a year ago are now finding themselves out of work for a second time in twelve months and are again turning their attention to the employment section of 'The Age'.
Looking at Melbourne's twin towers, 35 and 55 Collins Street, one could be forgiven for viewing with some cynicism the inherent message conveyed by their neon signs, high above the pedestrians in Collins Street. High atop the buildings are the signs ANZ.COM and TELSTRA.COM that seem to be belatedly calling us to a deeper participation in the DOT COM bonanza that, we all know, crashed some two years ago, bringing with it much of the pain the unemployed are feeling today.
These circumstances should, I believe, awaken in all of us a greater sympathy for those who are unemployed or are in imminent danger of it. In this context, I am reminded of the prayer of the English Novelist Winifred Holtby (1898 - 1935) that, perhaps, we could all pray on their behalf.
To Adam, He gave Eden.
To Noah, the Ark.
With Abraham, He made a covenant.
To Jacob, He gave the tribes of Israel.
To Joseph, Egypt.
To Moses, the Ten Commandments.
To Joshua, He gave Jericho.
To Samuel, the oil.
To Saul, the donkeys.
To David, He gave the Psalms.
To Solomon, wisdom.
To Samson, strength.
To Elijah, He gave the whirlwind.
To Elisha, a double portion of the Spirit.
To Job, patience.
To Esther, He gave her the crown.
To Daniel, the lions' den.
To Naaman, his leprosy.
To Shadrash, Meshach and Abed-nego, He gave the furnace.
To King Nebuchadnezzar, Babylon.
To Hosea, his unfaithful wife.
To Ezekial, He gave the scroll to eat.
To Jeremiah, lamentations.
To Jonah, the fish.
To other prophets, He gave His word.
To Christ, the cross.
To Peter, the church.
To you and I, He gave Himself.