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Some of the Highlights in the Magazine:
Fr. Anscar's Column
Fr. Anscar's Column
We were looking for a new and easier track to a favourite place. We had driven carefully through the bush until a creek bed with deep walls told us it was time to walk. My offsider, a mission volunteer called Brendan, insisted on carrying the water bottle to save the energy of the "Old Chap", my aged self. The only thing was that I had to keep stopping him to have a drink. Consequently, as we climbed seemingly miles of rocks, I felt desperately thirsty and the water supply just wasn’t enough. Brendan then went over a ridge to scout around leaving me to rest a while. On hearing his distant shouts, I dragged myself into action again. There around the corner was a lovely pool of water gently oozing from the rock. Uncaring for the local kangaroos and other wild life dependent on the pool, I filled my hat and drank deeply of this lovely tasting elixir of life. Then it was on again in the direction of the shouts. He had found an ancient ‘hiding place’ deep in a gorge under some great trees where no-one would ever find you.
In the wet season there would be water pounding down long rounded rocks to the floor of the gorge forming a racing, raging creek. It was dry now as we followed its path over many rocks and obstacles. I began to long, once again, for the now absent water. Endless was the trek back in the direction of the car which was miles away.
Now comes the point of the story. It was the thirst. I have never known such a thirst. I thought of the old bush people and how tough they were but then the fire of it turned my mind to Jesus. I thought I could now feel something of what Jesus felt – so long without food and drink or rest with such a loss of blood from the angry treatment of the soldiers and the consequent raging fever. His tongue "stuck to the roof of his mouth", as Isaiah put it. It was so shocking – to realize something of His pain. I was telling of the experience, later, back at Kalumburu and one of the sisters suggested that the thirst of Jesus was a thousand times worse again in that there was no car waiting at Calvary with beautiful cold water for him to drink. The certainty of cold water waiting for me inspired a real interest in my keeping going. Jesus had to rely on love alone. It was love that kept him going to the end. On Good Friday we pray, "O Jesus who for love of me did bear your cross to Calvary; In your sweet mercy grant to me to suffer and to die for thee".