Following the storm south along the wet Caves Road, and on my way to the Cape Naturaliste, I am offered a different kind of enlightenment. On my right, between the road and the ocean, a Christian camp site.
Two hundred yards later, another one.
Two hundred yards after that, another.
The Christian Brethren Youth Camp.
The Busselton Baptist Youth Camp.
The Bussleton Catholic Youth Camp.
The Churches of Christ Camp Site
The Seventh Day Adventist Youth Camp.
And the Anglican Camp Site. I imagine Rowan Williams hammering his tent pegs in, wrestling with his folding chair and putting a match to his trangia. I think he'd be rather at home.
The devil may have all the best tunes but it looks like Jesus has got the good camp sites. It made me laugh, because it reminded me of the Monty Python sketch about the People's Front of Judea*. But it was sad as well. Being young should be a time to meet people who are not like ourselves, so that we can test out the things we've been taught by our parents against the greater world and decide whether we agree with them. There will be plenty of time as grown-ups to divide the world into them and us, people we like and people we talk about behind their backs. Bikers we nod at at and bikers we ride by.
I tried to think of a good joke about how you would tell the difference but I didn't work in the Ecumenical Office when I worked at Lambeth Palace so I don't have much to go on. Presumably the Catholics barbecue fish on Fridays while the Anglicans stand up to sing campfire songs. There ought to have been an Amish campsite too, they would rock at camping. Though they might just raise a barn instead and not bother with the inconvenience of canvas.
*There is some swearing in this clip - NSFW!
2 days ago