Meg's Heritage

A cold  hole filled Meg’s belly and despite the delicious food she struggled to eat much that morning, realising for the first time at ten years old that something was vacant from her life. A rhythmic, unified “Krishnarpanam” emanated from grandpa with his contrasting brown skin and white hair down and everyone down to the baby clinging at mothers blouse. It penetrated Meg’s ears as she perched on the rattan seat soundlessly and beheld all that was in front of her; the cinnamon aromas warming her nostrils, genuine smiles and laughter and the musical sounds of the Bengali-English mix being shared across this meal, this table, this family.. As  her friend Samira talked incessantly about the party she was going to that day her dad faced her, asked questions and listened intently. Nothing seemed put on for Meg’s sake. It was not the food or the love or the family that caused the hole in Meg’s belly, it was all of it. It was the belonging that Meg was missing. 

Meg was staying at  her neighbour and best friend Samira’s house for a day while her parents were out of town. After breakfast,  Samira’s mum took the girls to her bedroom and together they all got dressed for the party. 

‘I don’t want to wear a Sari’ Samira protested. This was countered with something Meg couldn’t understand and a short discourse later Samira sighed and held out the Sari for her mother to help. The yellow daisies on her baker-girl’s dress seemed underwhelming to Meg now but Samira’s mum did paste a bindi on the middle of her forehead and they all wore stacks of bangles. 

In psychology it’s called perception bias, the magic 8 ball says “all signs point to yes”, but Meg prefered to think of it as the universe directing her into her predestination. And that day with Samira’s family was the beginning. The party was nothing like her own family’s gatherings. There was singing and dancing and nobody had too much to drink or started arguing like her uncles usually did. Rather than just sausage sandwiches there were all sorts of brightly coloured and aromatic curries, freshly made breads and finger foods to die for. Everybody sat and ate around a single long table and after eating the kids got up and ran around the yard playing hide and seek - one thing that Meg noted was exactly the same.

Tucked under her blanket that night she wondered to herself about what made Samira’s family feel different. It felt so warm and inviting while at the same time she had this empty place inside her that she couldn’t explain.

***

At fifteen, Meg and Samira were still friends at home, but at school they hung out in different crowds. Samira was studious and never flaunted the rules. She was solid and sure of herself. Meg took risks, always trying to fit in and to her study seemed like a waste of time when she could be enjoying herself. At times when Meg felt like she needed some down time from her obstreperous friends she would retreat to the library, still being the quietly observant type she thought to herself that they wouldn’t really notice her absence - and they didn’t. 

It was here, between the pages of a book which smelled slightly musty despite only being a few years old that she found an old bookmark with the words of Max Ehrmann’s “Desiderata” and there it was again, that empty hole inside of her belly. “You are a child of the universe, no less than the stars and the trees …” pondering over these words she carefully placed the bookmark into one of her own books and into her backpack. At home she read it again, it all seemed to make perfect sense to her, except the feelings it set in motion. “Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans” she read, and realised perhaps this is why Samira is focused on her studies; preparing the way for her own future success, committed to something greater than her own individual and instant pursuit of happiness. 

Unable to sleep, Meg typed into the search bar on her laptop “Max Ehrmann”, discovering that Desiderata had been influenced by Max’s Christan Faith, as well as his later distancing from this faith. Meg thought back over the stories her grandmother had told her, the loving God she depicted from her own childhood memories of Sunday School. Always holding steadfastly to her faith, Meg couldn’t understand why her grandmother had never passed the rich depth of her God on to her own children. Why did this familial culture, generations deep, die out in just a generation or two? The bookmark was another arrow pointing out the direction of her life, though she didn’t yet know it.

***

It was a Post-Christian world that Meg had grown up in. Almost two thousand years existed between the birth of Jesus and the birth of Meg and for almost all of that two thousand years, Christians had managed to pass on their beliefs to the generations which followed. The same way Muslims, Hindus and other faiths pass on their customs and beliefs. But in just a couple of generations Christians had managed to turn against themselves. I suppose we could call them Secular Christians. Yet unlike secular Jews, secular Chritians have an attitude of abhorrence toward their own history. Secular Christians miss the beauties of the meadow because of some of the weeds. They are intolerant of those they surmise to be intolerant.

It was exactly these thoughts that Meg was inundated by in the wake of 9/11, as the world fought over whether to hate muslims or to love them, creating a divide between Muslims who practice peace and Muslims who practice wrath. The same people who fought for the rights of Muslims to be respected and for freedom of religion, were the people who continued to dismiss practicing Christians. The same people who celebrate Christmas, christen their children and pray at funerals. The same people, Meg learned, who were living off the good works of Jesus who invited the world to turn from it’s diminishment of women, the disabled and the poor. It was the good work of Jesus who taught us to love everyone equally, eventually bringing equality  into western law, even if it did take two millennia. 

Meg was twenty-three when her nan died. As she cleaned out nan’s wardrobe, which still contained her grandfathers clothes twelve years after he had passed, she came across an old newspaper clipping on the death of her great grandfather:

“William Robert Murphy, 1/3/1902 - 12/08/1968, passed away peacefully at home from heart complications. Bill was born in London and emigrated from England to Fitzroy in northern Queensland at age six with his parents. He lived his whole life on the farm that his father had purchased from his brother. At 23 he married the girl from the farm next door,  Una Smith, and together they share five children; Sue, Matthew, Robert, Neville and Cheryl. Bill, as he was known, was a hard worker waking at 3am every morning to milk the cows and he never missed a Sunday at the local Presbyterian church, which he helped to rebuild after it burned down in 1937. Bill was a loving family man and took on the care of local boy Jeff Boscas at aged 12 after both of his parents were killed in an accident. The community of Fitzroy was blessed to have Bill amongst it’s residents as he could be relied upon in all sorts of emergencies. He saved several people during the flood of 1918 despite his young age. Bill was active in the community and his beloved Church until his death and will be greatly missed.”

Meg was faced with her own familial history and a curiosity arose. As she stepped into the humid air and stood on the footpath outside the Anglican cathedral her nan never in Meg’s memory attended - but professed to be a valid member of, having converted from Presbyterianism after marrying her grandfather - the grandeur of this old building penetrated Meg’s soul. Stepping inside she felt awash with peace as the thurible held by the pastor and being swung about her nan’s coffin sent a faint wave of earthy smoke through the air. Despite losing her beloved nan, Meg felt warm inside her belly. 

***

‘Why has this happened to me?’ Sarah wailed to Meg in their shared flat later that week. ‘I’m always careful’. Meg listened as Sarah explained about the broken condom. She didn’t even know the guy's name and now her period was late. Knowing she couldn’t provide for a child emotionally or financially, Sarah also knew she would end this pregnancy. A few wines later and tears had changed to an ironic laughter as the girls reminisced about the losers they had gone home with. Understanding all too well the grey area between empowering women to embrace their sexuality and over-sexualising to the point that it felt obligatory to sleep with someone by the third date, the girls agreed; one-night-stands were never pleasurable enough to warrant.

The night after Sarah took the medication, they lit a candle and Meg, upon Sarah’s request and for the first time in her life, prayed for the three of them, Sarah, herself and the baby. After Sarah fell asleep, Meg called Ben, their friend from Uni who she knew was a Christian. 

***

She wasn’t sure what to expect when she stepped into the building that Sunday morning. This building looked nothing like her nan’s cathedral. It was modern and slick. She wasn’t searching for the answers on how to live a better life; she didn’t think she had this life thing down too bad. What she was searching for was that warm feeling inside her belly and a sense of belonging to something greater. What she got was a sea of smiling warm faces, warm hugs and the laughter of children as they ran between the mingling adults.

As everyone moved into the main area, Meg followed. Inside it was dark, with strip lights up the aisles like a cinema and a stage with stage lighting of various colours creating enough light throughout the entire space that she could still see all of the faces around her. People were already swaying to gentle guitar tunes, some of them had their hands held into the air. Meg started to wonder if this was really going to help her find what she was after. 

But then the music started and immediately reverberated through her entire body. The power was in the people, sharing together shamelessly their love. Somehow Meg knew it was love that they were all emanating and though she didn’t really sing that day she felt every bit of peace and love within her soul that was being shared through these people. And then someone stood up the front to pray, asking God to be with them all, to open their hearts and minds to receive the message without pre-judgement. She said ‘we are all imperfect’ and Meg heard people agreeing ‘Amen’, to that sentiment. Together they came to ask something greater than themselves to intercede in their lives and help them to be a better person. To never stop learning how to be a better person. 

As the Pastor spoke that day, he talked of the love of Jesus. That Love is the one great rule of the bible. He read Jesus’ parable in Matthew 21 and then explained; ‘The Christians who say “I’m doing the right thing because I openly believe in God” yet live without this love are not as luminary as those who practice love without being Christian. Love should not be reserved’, he goes on, ‘for those who we believe are doing the right thing, or those we believe are worthy, but love should be freely given to all. We are all sinners and regardless of whether we believe in God and practice his laws, all are worthy to receive compassion and grace. This is the practice that all Christians must strive toward.’

***

It wasn’t immediate, Meg’s transformation. She still had a lot of confusion and doubts. Why did Christians hate the LGBTQ community? Why did they protest at abortion clinics instead of helping women before an unwanted pregnancy occurred? Was it really wrong to dress sexily and go out drinking? And yet, as she continued to search for truth she discovered things she had previously never noticed; Vinnies, offering financial support to low income earners to pay their bills, food banks being held every week all over the country by Christian organisations, and as Meg gave her time to help others she noticed something else - the volunteers weren’t the same people who were judging and protesting. These people had love and were trying to practice what they had been tight through the bible, leaving judgement to God just like the quiet and peaceful Muslims in the wake of 9/11.

As she spent more time with her new friends, Meg noticed that at the beach as other girls were worried about how they looked in their bikini’s, worried over their boyfriends looking at others and took about a bazillion selfies from every angle, she and her new friends from church were just enjoying the beach and each others’ company. She began to feel as though she belonged somewhere for the first time in her life. When she chose to spend her nights in, she enjoyed her weekends and was far more productive. As her relationship with Ben began to turn into something more she noticed that the as they got to know each other, not having sex made things far less complicated. When they decided to take that step - despite remaining unmarried - they had such a deeper and more meaningful connection between their bodies knowing that there was trust and love, something far greater than lust. 

Death, birth, marriage; these are the moments we turn towards The Something that we ignore for the other 99% of our lives. Is that considered weakness, or is it instinct? Meg wondered as she explained to her old friends her decision to get baptised. These days there are people in the world who believe that anything and everything is possible. Nobody laughs at the healing power of crystals or a chant sung by an ancient medicine man, but the pastor down the road seems like too much of a stretch. After all - the power of the medicine men and the crystals is the same thing as universal intelligence, universal intervention, Creator. Maybe everyone is scared of giving up the liberties they believe are making their life happier.

“Through discipline comes freedom” wrote Aristotle, who despite being a critic of religious faith, acknowledged its importance in the socio-political role. Meg was experiencing this freedom. With an open mind and a lot of research she came to understand that most faith’s taught the same core principles. It wasn’t important aligning to one. What was most important was aligning with one. Through discipline comes freedom. And the easiest for Meg was that of her familial heritage - Christianity.