Church-hopping

Well, I've been church hopping these last few weeks. Checking out the various pieces of majestic, religious construction that exist around Canberra. Sometimes I pop in to see what's going on. I enjoy it, it's like a form of meditation. Simultaneously I often find it amusing to listen to the sermons. I always chuck in a few bucks for the entertainment.

Today I visited the celebrated St. Johns cathedral in Reid, on the corner of Anzac Parade and Constitution Avenue.

It's one of the oldest churches in Canberra, with the first stone laid in 1841 (this is old for Australia), which is crazy considering Canberra was kick-started around 1908. Above is a picture of it covered in snow in 1926.

It's a beautiful old building with gorgeous trees smothering the pathways around the grounds. There's also a fascinating graveyard on the grounds, if you're one who likes to read headstones.

So, this evening when I got back from the pool, I put on my sneakers and scarf, grabbed my MP3 player and paced over to the church. It must be said at this point that Reid is a most wonderful suburb to walk around in Canberra, especially during autumn.

Striding up to the church I see a rector (priest? minister? pastor? bishop? father? meh?) standing outside, pacing around and looking as nervous as I felt. So I walked up and said `Have I missed the show?' and he says `No, starts at 6. I'm Paul.' I walked in, accepted the instruction manuals, and sat down up the back. And I see about 5 people sitting in pews up the front. It's tall, relatively long, but so skinny, only about 15 people could sit across it. Below is a picture of it from 1939.


An old man encouraged me to sit up the front to `feel more cosy' so I sidled up and found a pew of my own. They had cute little embroidered pillows for when you're feeling naughty and need to kneel. The stained windows were about average.

The main man Paul gets up front and walks us through the last vestiges of the Easter shenanigans. He read out Psalm 23, which made me want to stand up and say `yeah, mutherfuckers!' and pull a gun. Then he reads from some sheets of paper, a passage that I can imagine was downloaded from the Anglican-Priest-Quickie-Sermon website. It explained the shepherding imagery in the modern context. I felt acutely uncomfortable when they started talking about ".... I say to you, he who does not enter by the door into the fold of the sheep, but climbs up some other way, he is a thief and a robber." I thought they were talking about me. Metaphorically, of course.

Next when he asks us to stand and sing a hymn, I noticed a distinct lack of enthusiasm from the crowd. Perhaps next time I'm going to jump and yell `Hell yeah! Let's do it!'

So I practice some singing for my next (first) rock gig. I notice a cute girl in the row behind me, and I get to shake her hand and say `Piece, bewitch you'. The old man also said that to me. Creepy. I get some aerobic exercise from the standing and sitting. I notice that a plaque on the wall about a couple that lived till their 90s; she was a year older than him. Gnarly. I notice they're serving wine in this establishment, and I'm coming back next week.

At the end of it, I follow the cute girl out. Turns out she's a backpacker looking for work. I'm going back next week. Paul tells me that Kevin Rudd is a regular. I'm DEFINITELY coming back next week. Paul also tells me he's born in Rockhampton, raised in Melbourne, and took his 15 year old nephew ballooning last weekend. I laugh, leave, stroll back home, wading through the leaves on the pavement, smoking a cigarette.