25^th November 2009

Who in their right mind would forfeit the hype and hoopla of a football grand final in Melbourne for an inland desert prayer retreat at Lake Mungo N S W.? Well being of reasonable mind I chose to join a number of others who did just that.

With a diverse group of people whose differences ranged from a medical doctor to a belly dancer and hermit and whose theologies spanned liberal, charismatic, evangelical and contemplative spiritualities we set out for Mildura and the 120-kilometre stretch to the Lake Mungo National Park with a convoy of nine cars.
The desert road offered an unchanging vista of red sand and low saltbush with occasional clumps of dry timber, once cleared but now forgotten. A few passing thunderstorms had left the desert anything but dry. The usual fine dust had become a sticky red paste ready to swallow up anything that left the graded road. After 70 kilometres we faced the first of eight or nine long stretches of road covered with deep water. It led to an early bonding of our diverse party and covered the cars with a red wash that without wipers would have made visibility impossible.
We had been told to take our own toilet paper so I was expecting primitive conditions but the Shearers Quarters where we stayed were quite civilized, complete with showers and galvanized iron clad rooms topped with solar roof panels. The domestic arrangements were reasonable. I was assigned to peel apples, carrots and to assist with washing up. I slept in a dormitory along with a married couple and two single women but what could have proved a tricky arrangement worked out well.

Most Australians, 85% of us live in the green belt of the urban coastline. While early explorers were fascinated by the inland deserts and Henry Lawson had what he called "A God-Almighty" longing to break away and take to the bush, I couldn't claim to have an irresistible attraction for the desert but I was sure that its unique natural heritage had much to teach me and I was also sure that as the driest continent in the world that it still has the potential to give a distinct character to an Australian Christianity.
I had little appreciation of the significance of the Mungo National Park so I was on a sharp learning curve in every respect. Although some visitors still arrive with their kayaks and boats, at Lake Mungo they soon discover a 70 km dry shore line covering an ancient lakebed that has been dry for the last 18,000 years. During the ice age it was one of a chain of freshwater lakes and today it preserves one of the longest, continual records of aboriginal life in Australia over a period of 50,000 to 60,000 years. A national icon and sacred spot with a World Heritage listing that is a major piece in the Australian and world jigsaw of archaeology. It has even been claimed that the place has redefined our understanding of world pre-history.
A small Visitors Centre containing a basic museum of strange looking mega fauna with long names like Zygomaturus and Trilobus was conveniently situated next to our quarters. The mega fauna once roamed the land munching an abundant vegetation during the ice age but the really big find came with the discovery in 1968 of a calcified Mungo Women who is said to have lived 40,000 years ago.

One thing was obvious from the outset, during this Prayer Retreat I would not be able to retreat from the question of how I understood myself as a fifth generation Australian alongside of this ancient indigenous aboriginality.

After sharing an opening Eucharist in a small shelter we enjoyed our first meal. This was followed by an evening introduction at 7.30 and prayers at 9pm. Our leader, Rev Dr Robin Pryor had produced an excellent booklet with pictures and liturgies entitled "The Sands of Time". On the page, "Heading off the beaten track", we were asked to consider our expectations of this time in the desert --- a tourist visit, a holiday, a passing through or a shared pilgrimage in one place for a few days?
"Jesus called his followers to a new life, to abandon expectations and to trust themselves to simply living in God's healing,-life inspiring presence". He said,"Come away to a desert place all by yourselves and rest a while"Mark6.31. The Desert Mothers had said," The desert requires us to explore our crisis of personal meaning---the work of our desert moves us through integration towards authenticity. The fruit of the desert struggle is abundant life and deep abiding joy"

My interest in "Emerging Church" and helpful principles in Celtic Christianity and the New Monasticism had already convinced me that serious life style changes were no longer an option for Christians living in a secular society. As individuals, most of us, and the church corporately have been hard wired to a continuous agenda of hypo activity, a constant, programme of meetings and methods in an attempt to survive, to be contemporary in a competitive world. I was already converted to the need to develop a more contemplative spirituality. Beryl, my wife and I had attended regular prayer days at St Andrews Beach so I knew about disciplined times of quietness, listening and learning to wait on God. The next five days were sprinkled with periods of meditation, journaling, walking and sharing reflections. Developing these skills and heightening these senses probably takes a lifetime, yet my impatience prevailed and I could hardly wait to get started.
In our opening Eucharist we acknowledged that the Spirit of God was both present, around and within us. The Spirits creating presence was in the planet from it's very beginning millions of years ago and we were gathered remembering the first people here, the Barkandji, the Muthi, Mthi and Nyampaa peoples. Then there were those helpful searching questions. What do I leave behind? Why have I come? For what do I yearn? What am I noticing of the Spirit's "nudging" in my life? How will my love of God deepen.

Our orientation that evening and the quiet of the desert outpost was interrupted by sudden loud claps of thunder and flashes that lit the sky. The desert itself seemed to clap and cheer the driving rain as it rattled our iron roof but was it a welcome or a warning, a caution similar to that which Moses received as he stood before the burning bush. Our next few days would be spent on what was undeniably nothing less than sacred ground for the scientist, the ancient people of the Dreamtime and all Australians.

Ted Curnow Lake Mungo Retreat September 2009