True all over the world!
Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation; and every city or house divided against itself shall not stand: (Matthew 12:25)
~~~
It’s a time for prayer…not politics; it’s a time for healing, not hurting; it’s a time for unity, not division…for a house divided against itself cannot stand.
Here is poem by Sir John Betjeman from about half a century ago. Its message is still relevant today on a variety of levels.
We still need to ask the question, “How, in fact, do we prepare …?”
The Advent wind begins to stir
With sea-like sounds in our Scotch fir,
It’s dark at breakfast, dark at tea,
And in between we only see
Clouds hurrying across the sky
And rain-wet roads the wind blows dry
And branches bending to the gale
Against great skies all silver pale
The world seems travelling into space,
And travelling at a faster pace
Than in the leisured summer weather
When we and it sit out together,
For now we feel the world spin round
On some momentous journey bound –
Journey to what? to whom? to where?
The Advent bells call out ‘Prepare,
Your world is journeying to the birth
Of God made Man for us on earth.’
And how, in fact, do we prepare
The great day that waits us there –
For the twenty-fifth day of December,
The birth of Christ? For some it means
An interchange of hunting scenes
On coloured cards, And I remember
Last year I sent out twenty yards,
Laid end to end, of Christmas cards
To people that I scarcely know –
They’d sent a card to me, and so
I had to send one back. Oh dear!
Is this a form of Christmas cheer?
Or is it, which is less surprising,
My pride gone in for advertising?
The only cards that really count
Are that extremely small amount
From real friends who keep in touch
And are not rich but love us much
Some ways indeed are very odd
By which we hail the birth of God.
We raise the price of things in shops,
We give plain boxes fancy tops
And lines which traders cannot sell
Thus parcell’d go extremely well
We dole out bribes we call a present
To those to whom we must be pleasant
For business reasons. Our defence is
These bribes are charged against expenses
And bring relief in Income Tax
Enough of these unworthy cracks!
‘The time draws near the birth of Christ’.
A present that cannot be priced
Given two thousand years ago
Yet if God had not given so
He still would be a distant stranger
And not the Baby in the manger.
Today’s Advent poem comes from from one of my all time favourite poets and fellow sinner, John Donne (1572-1631) – of “No Man is an Island” fame.
A statue of Donne dressed in his funeral shroud in St Paul’s London. Courtesy: Google Images
At the round earths imagin’d corners, blow
Your trumpets, Angells, and arise, arise
From death, you numberlesse infinities
Of soules, and to your scattred bodies goe,
All whom the flood did, and fire shall o’erthrow,
All whom warre, dearth, sage, agues, tyrannies,
Despaire, law chance, hath slaine, and you whose eyes,
Shall behold God, and never tast deaths woe.
But let them sleepe, Lord, and mee mourne a space,
For, if above all these, my sinnes abound,
‘Tis late to aske abundance of thy grace,
When wee are there; here on this lowly ground,
Teach mee how to repent; for that’s as good
As if thou’hadst seal’d my pardon, with thy blood.
John Donne
This is the third and final part of my mini series of photos on Queenscliff – a unique Victorian town where I had most of my high school education. Being surrounded by the sea it is obvious why Queenscliff has so many maritime connections. The ferries and the fishing are just two. The pilot boats which service the Port Philip heads are based there, and there is a museum which celebrates its connections with the sea, as well as a Marine Discovery centre. Boat building and restoration is also part of its history. Like many towns it has had to cope with the “development” of the C21st. However, from my brief visits it seems to have successfully resisted these better than most and its unique character shines through.
The Queenscliff-Sorrento Ferry preparing to take vehicles.
Part of the Maritime Museum
Yachts being restored
Looking towards the Heads
The beach on the Point Lonsdale side of Queenscliff with the white lighthouse (as opposed to the black lighthouse) in the distance
In recent years I turned my hand to Advent poems. This year I thought I would remember classics from the past. My first comes from Christina Rossetti.
Stained Glass Window Cologne Cathedral
“Come,” thou dost say to Angels,
To blessed Spirits, “Come”;
“Come,” to the Lambs of Thine Own flock,
Thy little Ones, “Come home.”
“Come,” from the many-mansioned house
The gracious word is sent,
“Come,” from the ivory palaces
Unto the Penitent.
O Lord, restore us deaf and blind,
Unclose our lips tho’ dumb;
Then say to us, I come with speed,
And we will answer, Come.
One of the joys of Queenscliff is the water. It is virtually surrounded by water. There is Swan Bay on one side and Port Philip Bay and the Port Philip Heads on the other two sides. A narrow neck of land connects it with Point Lonsdale. Swan Bay is a shallow bay with extensive bird life. On the ocean side the water is deeper and rougher – particularly near the Port Philip Heads.
Coming into Queenscliff on the ferry is quite delightful as you see the town from another angle. In this photo we see the Black Lighthouse and the old wooden lighthouse in the grounds of the fort.
The tourist train steams past the site of the my old high school (no longer extant) with Swan Bay in the background.
Another photo from the ferry showing the old hotels and guest houses along Gellibrand Street
The Queenscliff Marina/Harbour
Queenscliff at dusk. In the distance you can seen the water tower and the top of the Black Lighthouse
I spent 5 years of my life travelling to Queenscliff every school day – from Form 1 to Form 5. To be honest, I didn’t take too much notice of the town. Afterall, it was the site of my compulsory incarceration. There was an Army Staff College situated in a C19th fort and a fishing fleet, which made it distinctly different to the town I came from. However, this year I have gone to the town on variety of occasions. Our Year 12 retreat was held there, my wife and I did one of our extended walks nearby, we have taken friends there for a meal and we have passed through using the ferry that goes from Queenscliff to Sorrento. This has given me an opportunity to take a variety of photos. This in turn has opened my eyes to the uniqueness of this Victorian town. Queenscliff is a small borough but it packs in a lot of history – especially by Australian standards.
The Queenscliff Hotel: One of the grand C19th century establishments
The Vue Grand Hotel: Also established in the C19th
St George the Martyr’s Anglican Church built in the 1860s
The School/Parish Hall
Queenscliff Pier and old Lifeboat shed.
Like my own dad, my wife’s step father was also indentured to work in Germany during WW2. I have reflected in the past on the tragedy of these young men having crucial years stolen from them. (Being Content in a WW2 Workgang) Today I simply want to include a few photos that give us a glimpse of that time: the good, the bad and the ugly – and the downright strange.
The striking thing about this photo is both the fact that the young men organised themselves into musical groups but also took pride in their appearance.
This this one of the more bizarre photos. Dutch cowboys in a Nazi hall during an entertainment evening.
This was a time of war. The workers’ barracks were bombed by the allies. The Allies may have heard of the appalling costumes in the earlier photo.
So naturally the workers had to rebuild their own accommodation.
My wife’s stepfather worked in a railway workshop. I am intrigued by the presence of a lady in the middle of this photo.
Whenever m
y wife and I go camping it is very unusual if we don’t end up near water. We love camping near rivers, lakes and, especially,the ocean. Some of our most memorable camping experiences have been next to water of some sort. In a blog I did over a year ago – Our Top Ten Camping spots, the majority of them were next to water. Even in the arid country of the Grand Canyon the Colorado river still surged through the ravine.
Water has moods. Water is almost human in the way it moves from c
almness to fury and back again. A raging angry river, a placid sea or an agitated lake all remind us of traits in ourselves. There are other aspects. Some watery places are secluded and intimate, others are large and expansive and still others are mischievous or treacherous. Recently walking along the beach I noted that the most dangerous part of the ocean wasn’t the foaming surf but the dark rip of water that could have taken an unsuspecting swimmer hundreds of terrifying metres out into the ocean.
But of all the watery places it is the sea that always gives me glimpses of the Creator. It is untameable and vast. The sea reminds me of my own smallness and vulnerability. And yet, when I am in ship or boat it holds me and takes me great distances. It brought me to Australia as a child, I paddle at its edges and I can ride its waves. Yet it is always the sea. It continues to have a mind of its own and nothing I do will change it.
Paper thin,
weakest link,
hair’s breadth.
Unexpected.
Always present.
The certain
uncertainty of
our time
and timing.
The
“are we there yet?”
of life.
In the midst of
this ambiguity
there is
a hand that
upholds and rules
so that every
tear and worry,
fret and angst,
burden and hassle
disappears.
Travels from Ur 