It's nearly a week ago now. I was walking out of the rasta reggae night at Parliament of the World's Religions and saw people setting up metal detectors in the doorways when it dawned on me: tomorrow I would be in the presence of the Dalai Lama, a man people apparently DO want to kill. I realised I was really excited. Actually, I'm still pretty excited. I was probably at least 100 meters away, even when I snook down the the front. I've been closer to Bjork, who has arguably a better dress sense... The thing I was wondering then, and am still kind of wondering now, is why I care? I had been spending most of Tuesday evening, and as it turned out Wednesday too, with a bunch of young Catholic women who had all participated in World Youth Day earlier this year. The thing is, I wouldn't care less about being in the presence of the Pope. Probably the opposite. Similarly, the leader of my own faith tradition - the Uniting Church in Australia - was in my office a couple of weeks ago. And while I was happy to say hello and encouraged other people to go along to events and hear what he had to say, I can't say I was bragging about having shaken his hand. Whereas you can be sure if I'd gotten to shake the Dalai Lama's hand I wouldn't be taking a week to write the blog! Which leads me to ponder... What makes us all so excited about the Dalai Lama? Is it his lovely red dress? Is it that he is always smiling? Is it that we love an underdog? - and you don't get much more of an underdog than somebody who stands up to the moral authority of China. I'm still not sure. But I do know, that when he spoke at the final session of the Parliament of the World's Religons he was gentle and simple yet challenging in what he had to say. Which was along the lines of... 'Thanks for the invite. What you're doing here is good. But there's been a lot of talking and exchanging business cards. Now you need to act to make the world better.' Of course, everyone applauded - in fact I think most people were standing. We all love to be challenged. But basically, in an incredibly gentle, authentic way, he got to down to the basics of it and in just a few minutes cut through seven days of rhetoric. Yes, all the world's religions teach love and respect for others and for the world in which we live. So what are we going to do about it? Apparently world peace begins with inner peace. That's the lesson a western girl like me just doesn't seem able to learn. Yet I suppose if it's true then I must try; because clearly nice photos of people on bridges isn't going to change the world.

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End of my first day at the Parliament of the World's Religions. At first I was worried that coming in half way through was going to make the whole experience a bit of a fizzer, but the night ended well with a great soy coffee and chat with Elizabeth Young from the Sisters of Mercy. I've heard from some incredibly inspiring people over the course of the day - from Valerie, who I'm hoping to interview tomorrow, a Sikh woman from the US who is using film to break down fear and intolerance in her country - from Hugh who is the founder of Oaktree and is now doing global stuff - from two people whose names I didn't get who have founded soulpancake, an interfaith website with similar aims to the transit lounge (creating space for conversation about how faith and real life interact) but much better interactivity. I'm a bit jealous. I have to admit it - I'm a bit jealous of all these people. I'm heading to the end of my jesus year - I'll be 34 at the end of this month (the legend is that Jesus was 33 when he was crucified) and so far I haven't changed the world at all so far as I can tell. Certainly not enough so that i'd causing anyone any trouble. Am I a failure? Obviously this is self-indulgent twaddle. My life is great - I have a fulfilling job, an inspiring although occasionally maddening partner, and two crazy lovely kids. But I see these people doing so much in the world and while part of me is just really impressed and inspired, part of me wonders why I'm not doing more... Still, I guess that's what this week is about - not to go and feel interested but un-moved, but to learn and be inspired and be challenged, and therefore left just a little uncomfortable.

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I've just arrived for the first of three days at the Parliament of the World's Religions. I know I haven't blogged in ages and ages, but decided I should try to write some posts about this experience, which I'm hoping will be really amazing. The program is overwhelming - so many choices that I'm plagued with indecision. Should I got and listen to Hans Kung talk about the global financial crisis? Or listen to what young people think about the media and its representation of people of faith? Or find out about East-Asian perspectives on ecology?? I have about 15 minutes to decide. Maybe I should get out there and ask some people - but my bag is so heavy with this huge program guide that's bigger than a Bible. I could twitter, like Joe Hockey did when he was trying to decide what to do about the Liberal leadership. But I don't have that many followers and anyway, it didn't really work out all that swimmingly for poor Joe... Perhaps I'll just go for the first door I come to. That way fate can decide and I won't have to walk very far.

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I'm having one of those days... it started with me oversleeping this morning. I'd planned to go into work (very) early and get some things done before my 7.30 breakfast meeting but just couldn't drag myself out of bed. 

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'I thought writers were the daggiest collective group you could get, but writers' festivals seem like style week compared with the uniting church.'

Thus spake one of my colleagues on the Assembly media team, three days into her first experience of collective uniting church-ness.   

A week on and I'm just about recovered from the madness that was the 12th Assembly media team. (If you're wondering why I needed to recover, you try reporting on seven days of 12-hour meetings and see how you feel at the end of it. Check out how much we wrote here.)

I now have time to reflect: why is it that a certain genre of Christianity operates as a style-free zone?

It's something that concerns me enormously. I'm not sure why. Possibly because I'm a very shallow person. Possibly because I have approximately half a degree in textiles and I love fabric (although not necessarily fashion). Or possibly because the world is a beautiful place and I think we have a responsibility not to make it ugly. 

Which, I hasten to point out, is not the same as saying, 'Wear make-up for Jesus'.

I realise it might be to do with a wholesome desire not to be drawn into the relentless fashion cycle, or it could be about living more simply and only wearing ethical clothes.

But, as Heather Dowling has shown in her op-shopping and refashioning articles, you don't have to leave style behind when you enter the world of ethics. 

And also, I see plenty of Christians wearing fairly expensive clothes that are just plain (I think) ugly. [A disclaimer here: my husband hates my taste in clothes and thinks its freakish. But he's a bogan.]

I came of age in the 90s, so I'm part of the slacker generation and very much stick to the mantra of 'avoid the try'. But style isn't about effort; and it shouldn't just be skin-deep. 

So, if you care to enter the debate, leave me a comment and let me know: are Christians daggy - and what's your theory of why?  

 

 

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I spent a lot of time over the last couple of weeks at the National Conference of the Uniting Aboriginal and Islander Christian Congress in Perth. Then for the last couple of days I've been part of the media team at the Uniting Church's 12th Assemble Meeting in Sydney. I've been thinking about the differences between the two events.

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Three years ago - just before the last Uniting Church Assembly meeting in Brisbane - I visited friends in Melbourne and stocked up on new clothes. Since then I've bought one pair of jeans and relied on birthday presents and cast-offs from friends and family.
A couple of weeks ago we finally sold the block of land at the back of our house (we've been subdividing - the great Australian nightmare!) and so I had some money to go shopping again. I've been so looking forward to it but I made a promise to myself that when I had money to buy clothes, I wouldn't just blow it on cheap stuff from target.
I was determined to do my research and buy ethically-made clothes.
Except it's really not that easy.

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 I had a conversation with a friend last night that made me a little bit despondent about what we're trying to achieve here at The Transit Lounge.

 

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Re-reading yesterday's entry - the bit at the end about refugees/immigrants being the people who make Australia the lucky country comes across as a bit cheap/twee(t).  Nonetheless, I do think it's true.

At my church camp a couple of weeks ago I ended up in a small group discussion with people roughly my age from the Philippines, Zimbabwe and Iran - all countries with not great human rights records in recent times.

Not all of the people I was talking to came to Australia as refugees, but they all came here looking for a better life for themselves and their families. They're also all people who I think would be leaders in their communities back home, and who have a lot to offer.

Really it's not being flippant to say that their countries' loss is our gain.

And so, Ali's basic theory of everything for tonight is:  the way not just money but people and their energy and expertise flows around the world is just like high school.

The more popular kids get popular, just because everyone thinks they're popular and not necessarily because they are any nicer or better. The kids who are 'losers' stay billy no-mates, apart from the patronising do-gooder who wants to be nice to them. And only the kids who are really particularly good at something - sport or art - can break through the economic forces at play.

Ok, so it's not a ground-breaking or particularly well thought out theory. But it basically works if you don't think about it too hard.

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The last couple of weeks there has been a fair amount of media coverage about the elections in Iran (Larvatus Prodeo blog has an interesting article just posted about the role of social media in this context).  

I know some people who live in Australia but still have families in Iran.  I haven't seen any of them to ask, but I wonder if they've been able to vote in the elections, and if they would have wanted to.  

All the people I know from Iran came to Australia as refugees, so they are separated from family and can't go back, even if they wanted to.

Its Refugee Week, 14-20 June, which I suppose is why this is on my mind. It's funny how things that have happened in your life can make you care more or less about something - I think I pay attention to refugee issues more perhaps because I came to Australia as a migrant. Admittedly, I came the easy way - from the UK, looking the same as most people, speaking (roughly) the same language. Although I had to modify the way I spoke quite a lot before anyone could understand me...

Even coming like that, with family already here to support us, it was pretty tough - I'd go so far as to say traumatic. So I know uprooting your family is never something people do easily.

Back in March, I visited the SIEV X memorial in Canberra. While I was there, and again when I showed the photos to my church group, I cried, thinking about the 353 parents and children who died trying to find somewhere safe to live their lives. I know it's actually impossible for me to imagine what who people came from, and why they were coming here, but when I look at those posts I think about about the 14-year-old me who travelled to Australia. What it would have been like to have come here in a different way?

It's my son's birthday party on Saturday, and one of the guests will be Tijaan's friend (and my friend's son), Pedram, who came here as a baby and spent the first few years of his life in detention centres. I think about how blessed (I was going to say lucky - but blessed is the right word) my family has been in getting to know his family, who are such wonderful, life-giving people even though life for them is still pretty tough.

So, this Refugee Week, even though it's important to keep working for all the people who still need a chance at safety and a good life, I just want to give thanks for human resilience and to pray (really really pray) that Australia is changing and we're becoming (as Isobelle says) more welcoming for those who are coming to join us. Because it's these people who make Australia a ‘lucky' country.

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