Being in a brief nomadic phase, the final touches still being added to our new home, we decided a trip to Tasmania was in order. It’s been a great decision. I’ve only been here once before, and that was on a speaking tour which allowed limited time to explore the natural beauty. For Rosemary it is a first time visit.
Each day has been filled with “wow”, “wow” and “wow” again. The natural beauty of Tasmania has to be seen to be believed, and I’m saying that during a winter visit, the time it’s least recommended to be here. Actually the weather has been amazing. The locals assure me that can’t be taken for granted, but we can only comment on what we have experienced.
For all that, I have a sense of sadness as I travel around. The landscape is remarkable and has everything I most love… ocean, forest, mountains, and extraordinary bird life. It’s cold, but in a bracing rather than a “wipes you out” kind of way, and as is said, there is no unsuitable weather, only unsuitable clothing. Ours has been fine.
So why the sadness?
This really is paradise. Seriously, it is. But the history of Tasmania is so sad. The two are incongruent.
We all know that Australia’s colonial era began with Australia as a conveniently remote penal colony – but Tasmania, despite its natural beauty, probably had amongst the roughest ride with that. Such cruelty. You look at the names and ages of some of those shipped across. Yes, some were just 10 years old, and already in juvenile detention centres. There were several who were 11, plenty of 12 year olds, and once you got to 13, well the numbers just rocket upwards. Imagine sending a 10 year old to a penal settlement at the end of the world. It’s unspeakably sad. And the crimes they had committed? Sometimes they were things like stealing a loaf of bread. And why does anyone do that?
And then there is the treatment of the indigenous population. There is no noble Australian story to tell, and Tasmania’s is amongst the worst, the Palawa and Pakana people almost extinct as a result of the Black War with its systemic violence, displacement and the disease that followed after British Colonization in 1803. The local population was decimated, and only survives today as a result of the descendants of some Aboriginal women and white sealers.
We visited Port Arthur. It is so beautiful, but you quickly have to add that it was the scene of the deadliest shooting massacre in Australia’s modern history – the 1996 murder of 35 people, with 23 others being wounded. Further back, Port Arthur operated as a penal settlement from 1833-1877 serving as a secondary punishment station. Over a thousand convicts died during its operation, largely as a result of their harsh treatment. It is not a happy story. Visit Port Arthur today and you find lush green lawns, quaint homes and rolling hills. It’s a serene and tranquil setting. If you didn’t know that its a world heritage listed Australian Convict Site you would never guess that it had been a place of anything other than bliss.
Naturally we visited the ever controversial Mona – Hobart’s famous Museum of Old and New Art. We were told we would either love it or hate it – that it elicits strong responses and that few are neutral. Turns out I am one of the few. It is impressive at many levels. Architecturally it is full of surprises and there is no shortage of creativity. It’s a feast for the senses – perhaps a little too rich, and I was glad to get out of the building as I was starting to feel sensory overload. It’s meant to challenge your thinking, and up to a point it did, but only up to a point. I found it more predictable than I anticipated. The view of the world is bleak – persistently bleak. I might have missed it, but I didn’t pick up any hints of joy, or goodness. Which felt so incongruous with the setting – which is amazingly beautiful – an absolute celebration of the goodness of creation. Added to that, the food at the restaurant was exceptionally good – really, really delicious. Such a morbid view of the world while surrounded by such a beautiful natural landscape and amazing food. My mood refused to co-operate. Actually, life is wonderfully good so much of the time. Set in paradise, why this strong insistence that everything is badly wrong?
And I guess this is what this blog is about. The reality of beauty in the midst of tragedy, and tragedy in the midst of beauty. It’s also about human resilience, and the ability to bounce back. Who would have thought that a country with a heritage as a penal colony would today be one of the world’s fairest, most compassionate and most confident? And who would have thought that from the ashes of the Port Arthur massacre new gun laws would be birthed – laws that would see Australia become one of the safest countries in the world, albeit that the recent truly awful Bondi Beach shooting has alerted us that we might need to review and update some of our laws?
A refrain in the human story is our ability to get ourselves expelled from Eden – to be gifted paradise, but not to accept it. The biblical story tells us that humans are made from the dust of the earth and the breath of God. It’s so suggestive – we are mere dust – frail, feeble, indifferent. Yet we are also the breath of God – lofty, creative, resilient. Some seasons the pendulum swings one way, some times another. For myself, this has been a week when I have been reminded of the sheer beauty and wonder of God’s creation… a wonder that remains even when we lapse to be so much less than we have been made for. A beauty that continues to bubble through, even when the history is tragically sad. And I have been reminded that this is a grace touched world, and that our deluded efforts to abolish goodness, kindness and justice will fail – for God’s grace keeps bounding up again and again. As the Psalmist writes: “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge.” And that grace, goodness and glory is still there, even in the darkest night.
Nice chatting…
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