Why I’m voting Yes to the Voice

Culture, Faith, Politics, , , , , ,

I don’t speak for anyone but myself, but I doubt anyone who knows me would be surprised to hear I will be voting “YES” in the Australian constitutional referendum next week.

As I have listened to Aboriginal sisters and brothers, particularly my fellow Christian leaders, I hear gracious, gentle, and careful, yet firm and overwhelming, encouragement to do so. Some have acknowledged that this proposal is not perfect, as no proposal ever could be. But it is a step forward, and the only alternative on the table is the status quo. A wise, godly Gurindji woman I sat with on her country late last year summed it up this way: “We are extending a hand of friendship to you, to walk forward together. If you slap that hand away, where can we go from there?”

“We are extending a hand of friendship to you, to walk forward together. If you slap that hand away, where can we go from there?”

I’m happy to share publicly how I will be voting on this, because if the referendum is unsuccessful, I will be disappointed – and I don’t have a very good poker face. More importantly, I will want to be asking lots of questions about what else we will do instead. My only previous experience of voting in a referendum is the one where the “no” vote resulted in us essentially taking the whole topic of conversation off the national agenda for the next 25 years. I can’t bear the thought that that could be what happens with regards to reconciliation in this country. 

This referendum is the culmination of an unprecedented consultation process that was supported by both major political parties and sought to listen to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander representatives from across the nation. The Uluru Statement from the Heart is addressed to the Australian public from Aboriginal people, and asks for substantiative and structural reform that they believe will make a difference in their communities, including a Constitutional Voice. It saddens me that this grassroots proposal after years of consultation has become unhelpfully politicised through campaigns of misinformation and now risks being rejected because of which party people associate it with.

There’s been a lot of talk about division. In some sense, referenda are inherently divisive: they divide us into those who vote yes and those who vote no. Which means we are already “divided” in the sense that we hold different views. In 1967, our nation was divided between the 90% who voted to count Aboriginal people in the population of our nation, and the 10% who said no even to that. Whatever happens next Saturday, there will be that simple division because a referendum is a blunt instrument. As is any election. We don’t get to vote on all the individual policies proposed by each political party, we get to select a candidate to represent us. Democracy itself is far from perfect, but that’s how it works: we acknowledge our different views, and we seek a majority consensus in order to move forward. And then, at our best, we seek to walk together with everyone regardless of how they voted. The polarisation of political debate around the world in recent decades exasperates me because it seems we are losing the ability to move forward at all when we disagree. We can choose a different way, but using the idea that disagreement or division in itself is intolerable isn’t going to help us get there. 

There’s also been a lot of talk about details and blank cheques, which perhaps betrays the lack of engagement Australians have with our Constitution. It is not a details document. It doesn’t even mention the role of the Prime Minister! It sets out broad principles and then gives the government of the day the power to legislate all the details … and gives future elected governments the power to change those details. I believe this referendum is quite a modest proposal. All it guarantees moving forward is that there will be a body called the Voice. If successful, it will be up to our members of parliament (all of them, including those who strongly opposed the Voice or have serious questions about it) to discuss, debate and together determine the details of how it will work. A proposal to put all the details in the Constitution would actually be far more problematic, binding ourselves to a particular process rather than to an outcome.

“If you’re not sure, find out more.”

I’ve been particularly disturbed by the call to ignorance, i.e. “If you don’t know, vote no.” As far as slogans go, I much prefer, “If you’re not sure, find out more.” As citizens in a democracy, it is both our privilege and I believe our obligation to make an informed decision, to listen and learn and to not give in to the temptation to retreat to our echo chambers. It can be difficult to listen to those we disagree with, and difficult to sort out truth from fear. And it’s even easier to opt out when for us non-indigenous Australians, there isn’t really that much at stake. I grieve for my Aboriginal sisters and brothers who have had to endure months of too many people talking about “them” as an issue rather than as people.

As a follower of Jesus, I’m drawn to the Bible’s calls towards humility, mercy, and justice. To putting the needs of others above our own, lifting up those who have been downtrodden, and owning up to our own mistakes as well as the privileges of the wealth and power we have inherited at others’ expense. I’m horrified by the disparities in our nation and the realities of the generational impact of our history. If there is a step that those affected believe will bring healing and restoration, why wouldn’t we take it? As a student of the Old Testament, I’m also challenged by the role of land and therefore the idea of what I call “groundedness” – the profound truth that God meets people within their time and place, and that therefore our own location matters and responding well to that is a discipleship question. This means I have to reckon with what it means to follow Jesus as a non-indigenous person in this land.

As a Baptist, I also believe in freedom of conscience and so I understand that others might bristle at the thought that I am telling them what to do or how to vote. That is not my intention. But I also don’t want that freedom to become an excuse for staying silent or not robustly participating in the political questions of our day. While the gospel is never partisan, it always has political implications, and we must continue to wrestle together with how best to demonstrate our love for Jesus and love for our neighbours in practice at a national as well as individual level. For me, I’m not sure how else to do that here, than to trust that taking the hand of friendship offered and walking forward together is a better choice than standing still apart.

O people, the LORD has told you what is good, and this is what he requires of you: to do what is right, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.

Micah 6:8

Artwork by Safina Stewart, Common Grace

Lament and Hope

Bible, Faith, , , ,

Last Christmas Eve, I shared a lament as bushfires raged around us, crying out for Emmanuel to come. And for the last couple of years, I’ve led my church’s Blue Christmas services, a space for people to name the griefs and sadnesses of the year and the challenges this season can bring.

As the year ticked over to 2020, a year long anticipated as a nice round number as well as for its association with perfect vision, perhaps we hoped the time for lament had passed. Perhaps we anticipated this year wouldn’t need space for being “blue”.

We all know how that went.

Now we come to the end of a disappointing and difficult year, a year where awareness of our frailties and weaknesses has been heightened, a year where lament has been a constant companion for many of us.

The words and spaces for sitting in the “blue” seem more important than ever.

And yet perhaps we are still hoping that ticking over to 2021 will make everything new again. Or perhaps we are pinning our hopes on a vaccine to bring about a return to “normal”. We find ourselves once again longing, yearning, expectant.

Lament and hope. Hope and lament.

This is our world. This is our humanity. In the midst of life we are in death. Joy and sorrow go hand in hand. We know this to be true. And yet we always find ourselves longing for more.

For me, this is why the biblical story is so powerful. It names this reality and it explains this longing. We were created for more. We live in the in-between. One day all will be restored. There is both space to lament and invitation to hope.

And at the centre of that story is the moment where lament and hope meet. When humanity’s groaning and longing is answered by a God who steps into the middle of the mess and brokenness. With the coming of a baby. Emmanuel. God in our midst.

This Christmas Eve my prayer is that we will find space to lament: to groan and cry out, to yearn and long, to name that where we live is not where we hope to be.

And in our lamenting, may the baby of Bethlehem, the promised Messiah, the Desire of God’s people and the Light of the world, meet us in the midst and bring true hope, hope for the restoration and redemption that is found only in him.

 

 

 

Today is not a great day to be in Melbourne … but there will good days to come

Monday Travel Posts, , ,

I wasn’t planning on writing another Monday travel post quite so soon, but I’m thinking of and praying for all my friends and family in Melbourne as they start a new stage of lockdown, with curfews and restrictions that are hard for me to imagine. And so they and their beautiful city are on my heart today.

I’ve visited Melbourne many times. So much that it’s been strange to now have had six months without a visit. It was the last place I visited, in late February when it was starting to become apparent that we’d all be travelling a lot less this year.

But I don’t have a huge number of photos from Melbourne, and certainly none that come anywhere close to capturing all its beauty and diversity. Perhaps because it is so familiar and doesn’t need recording for me to remember. Perhaps because I’m usually there to connect with people and work, not as a tourist. Or perhaps because I’ve always assumed I’d be back soon.

What do I love about Melbourne?

Growing up in Sydney, there’s a deep-seated inter-city rivalry with our country’s second largest city. Iconic globally recognised landmarks or quirky cosmopolitan laneways? 2000 or 1956? NRL or AFL? Traffic or trams? Harbour or River? Most well known or most livable? Less rainy days or less rain? There’s a good reason our politicians needed to find a compromise and build the capital somewhere in between!

And living in Adelaide for my adult life, there is a different kind of rivalry. Perhaps more of a one-sided younger sibling vibe that may at time verge on an inferiority complex in our side. Yes, we know that lots of things we do you have already done first, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t cool in our own way. (And most of us have almost forgiven you for the Grand Prix).

But spending a fair bit of time in Melbourne for work, study, and collaboration with various people over the last decade has truly developed my love for this city!

Melbourne has a great cosmopolitan vibe. From street art to high fashion, relaxed river walks to bustling nightlife. And plenty of amazing food! Delights from all over the world, not to mention everything artisanal from chocolate to coffee, dumplings to dessert.

(It was Melbourne, rather than Paris, where I had my first macaron)

I love the markets, large and small, with their fun and funky vibes.

The city views from up high are spectacular, whether from a ritzy event at the Eureka SkyDeck …

… or from a sneaky visit to the bathroom in a hotel on Collins St.

Melbourne also has a great arts scene.

(My second to last visit, late last year, was a crazy 18 hour whirlwind with an equally crazy friend to see a stunning musical whose themes resonate in the current season)

Melbourne loves its sport and does its sporting events so well.

Even for someone who is less “devoted fan” and more “casual spectator”, the atmosphere can’t be beat.

(Put 80,000 Aussies into the MCG for the Commonwealth Games and we all become instant aficionados of shot put, pole vault, and long jump)

What have I learned from Melbourne?

I hope it doesn’t seem unkind to reflect on all these great things about a city when its people can’t currently enjoy them. But I think part of lamenting includes naming what we appreciate (and therefore miss). All these things make Melbourne a great place to visit and we know they will again, hopefully in the not too distant future.

But even more than all the city has to offer, what I love most about Melbourne are the people I know there. And they are the ones who have much to teach me, as they have in the time I’ve spent there with them. Melburnians know what they like, they love who they are, and they lead in so many innovative ways.  Even in this last week, I have been challenged, encouraged, and inspired by many Melbourne friends as they respond to the situation they find themselves in with courage, grace, ingenuity, and good humour.

We Aussies love a good inter-state rivalry. But one danger we currently face is that our usually good-natured competitiveness, comparison, and ribbing can too easily turn into compassionless judgment, fear, or disdain. I hope that reflecting on this beautiful city invites all of us to stand with our neighbours in Melbourne today, praying for them, and looking in hope to how this challenging time will draw out their strength, community, innovation, and sense of fun in all kinds of new ways.

You’ve got this Melbourne. We love you.

And we’re cheering you on.