CLOBBERED BY CANON LAW

30. CLOBBERED BY CANON LAW (1967)

The explosive force in Fr. Bill’s rebuttal left me wasted and wordless. I still cannot quite fathom the thinking behind the outburst, which would have to be at least heretical and maybe deemed worthy of punishment by burning at the stake!! But maybe, in that twisted theology of Inquisition times, his response might have been hailed as truth faith! He certainly could not understand my disgust which connected strongly with my story going back some forty years.

We Murphy boys were blessed as we “journeyed” through our basic Marist formation at Mittagong in the 1940s. Yes, Mark, Terry and David had a hovering angel in our Aunty Sta or Sister Mary Honorine, a Josephite nun and dad’s eldest sister. Most months we’d receive a chatty, and encouraging letter in her beautiful hand-writing from distant Hilston in the west of the state. The top left hand corner was always emblazoned with. May the hearts of Jesus and Mary be praised.  Being a Sister of St. Joseph of the Sacred Heart, this made a certain sense. Their whole life was dedicated to the Lord. And of course, usually, we responded, with Mark’s fine hand writing highlighting my miserable scrawl. Later, she was moved to Port Kembla- what a culture shock- and from there was able to attend our profession in 1951. The memory of that day still embarrasses us. We had to scramble to scrounge a dinner for her which was barely basic.

(When she retired to

Mount Street

in North Sydney I went to see her a few times. Sadly, I was out of the country when this marvellous aunt died in 1969.)

It was from such a visit that I returned to Dundas in a state of righteous wrath. Her story, told in good humour, upset me. How could a priest treat her so abominably?

 Her story was set in wartime years, when the ‘imminent’ Japanese invasion caused all kinds of hysteria. Country kids from boarding schools, moved to safety west of the ranges. Harbour side schools like Marist Sisters’ at Woolwich up staked and moved to Mittagong!  (Little did we know that our future sister-in-law, Claire Donovan was just down the road)

 And those poor nuns, working out in the blazing heat of the west were told to stay put and so miss their yearly treat, a visit to Sydney for a retreat and holiday. But, the indomitable Honorine was creative and knew her little community needed some sort of break. And so she arranged that they take a holiday over at Nyngan!  Now, if you look at the map you would not be thrilled with such a “holiday” from one flyblown town to another out near the black stump. It was at leat a break and had to be better than nothing. But there was a problem. How to get there?

With all her charm and daring she approached the grumpy parish priest. Her deft touch was able to move him around to accept the proposition. But, there was a snag. Petrol. In the wartime conditions it was rationed and he did have a far- flung parish. It was too much for him. But Honorine continued to search for ways. Why not split it with the parish priest of Nyngan? Couldn’t it be arranged that Fr. O’Sullivan drive them to a half way point and then Dean Sexton deliver them to Nyngan, with a similar sharing on the return? Several phone calls were needed to seal the deal. Honorine’s concern and diplomacy won over the reluctance of TWO parish priests.

It took hours along the bush road to deliver the five nuns to the halfway point. Fr. Tim “dumped” them there and took off in a cloud of dust; mission accomplished! Maybe there was an emergency at the Dean’s end as they waited and wilted in the midday heat, in that mulga country. (I have an image from one of my favourite movies Laurence of Arabia.  There in the middle of the desert, by a well, Laurence and his Arab guide are waiting for a vital contact. Sweating in the suffocating heat, Mahomed decided to break the code of the desert in taking water from a rival tribe’s well. In the act of taking the rope, he startled and looking into the desert. There,miles and miles away is this tiniest of dust smudges, which, mirage like, sways and pulses. Suddenly, there’s the crack of a rifle and Mahomed is dead.)  Now, with the brown clad sisters there was not the same dangerous drama, but it did take a long, suffocatingly hot time before they spied the tell tale dust cloud approaching. Dean Sexton was late. But it was all to the good, as they went to stay with a welcoming family for the evening. These good Catholics were honoured to give hospitality to the sisters and the parish priest. That evening was the highlight of their Xmas holidays.

They arrived in Nyngan convent next morning and settled in. It was purgatory and worse. Heatwave conditions made it almost unbearable. But what hurt them was the almost total ignore of the Dean. There was little food, certainly no treats. They were not even given ice for the icebox to at least cool the water from the tap. And of course they did not know the people or have friends as they would have had in Hillston.

It was almost with relief that they “saddled up” to return home after those punishing weeks.  This time they had to use a utility, with Honorine in the front with the Dean and the other four on butter boxes in the back. To make matters worse, there had been a dust storm! Now, I didn’t realise that after a dust storm it becomes very cold. One of the older sisters, bouncing up and down, was suffering from arthritis and needed to come inside out of the cold. Honorine was concerned and “begged” the Dean to let Sister to join her in the front. The Dean would not budge. And so the poor sister suffered, until they reached the halfway point where Fr. Tim, thankfully could put them into his sedan.

Understandably, this story upset me and unleashed some deep anticlerical feelings! When I returned to Dundas I was enjoying some relief in a beer or two. Good old Fr Bill, our chaplain, who was good company, and treated us to trips to the football in his big Buick and even take us to his favourite sport, WRESTLING chose that unpropitious time to walk in for a yarn. I couldn’t contain myself and after some time I’m venting my anger on the way my saintly aunt was treated by these unfeeling clergy. Of course, Bill jumped to the support of his fellow priest. An argument developed. It was time to bring out my heavy artillery.

“Now, Bill, I really can’t see your point and I have to say that JESUS WOULD NOT HAVE TREATED THE SISTERS LIKE THAT”

He was more than equal to that sort of attack.

“I DON’T GIVE A BUGGER WHAT JESUS WOULD HAVE DONE.

 IT’S CANON LAW”.