The
death of an Aboriginal man, Ocky, at the back of the
Church.
Ocky's
Camp:
the dim back corner of the Church. A little row of medicine
bottles for his chest complaint, a little carrier bag,
a few papers, the plate of his last meal, and some tattered
blankets on the floor. Beside his head, a pair of thick-lensed
glasses.
Kneeling
beside the stiffened shell of him lying, as if asleep,
poor
and humble on the straw matting as his only bed,
I
thought I was present at the birth of Christ
The
deathbed of the poor is always the Stable of Bethlehem,
that
stable contained within itself
all
places that are symbols of rejection,
places
where the poor are born and live and die
because
there is no room for them amongst the well-to-do.
As
I knelt and looked at him, something happened in my
mind
as
though a golden disk was spinning before my eyes,
one
side engraved with the death of Ocky,
the
other side with the birth of Christ.
Two
sides of the one reality; I couldn't tell if I were
present at a birth or at a death.
While
Ted and Christine tried to contact relatives,
we
lifted him and laid him on his back, out of respect.
David
took his shoulders, I his ankles
and
my heart cracked as I felt him, light and brittle
like
a dry gum branch, like an abandoned cicada shell
and
suddenly I knew for certain that the spirit does not
die
and
I knew my certainty was Ocky's gift in death to me.
But
was I kneeling beside the dead shell of Ocky on the
floor,
or
beside the new-born Liberator on the straw at Bethlehem?
The
coldness and the stiffness and the smell of death were
there
a
man in his final helplessness....
but
how come my mind went not to the Crucifixion or Entombment
but
to the birth of Christ?
There
was something new there, something fresh and full of
goodness,
not
just the body of an old man dead.
I
am convinced beyond all argument
that
when a poor man dies, Christ's birth is celebrated anew;
the
Poor One, rejected from the shelter available to the
rich
the
Poor One, whose birthplace was a dim corner on the straw,
the
Poor One, without power or possessions.
Beloved
of God but despised by the rich.
by Karen Donaldson
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