WORDS Justine Rowe

Declining Mass attendences point to a broader malaise.

The Victorian Mallee town of Culgoa was once a thriving little community.

Situated about 75 kilometres south of Swan Hill, Culgoa’s prosperity came through dry land cereal farming. It boasted a robust school and preschool, its own footy team and a bustling main street full of shops. The local Tyrrell Creek would often flow during heavy rains, necessitating the eventual erection of a bridge across it.

Culgoa was also the scene of the annual Eucharistic Procession honouring Christ the King, drawing up to 1,000 people from the town and surrounding district. Young, old, men, women and children would turn out to give thanks for a bountiful harvest and to ask God to continue to bless the land.

Today, the Culgoa school is down to fewer than ten students and the pre-school has closed completely. The footy team was forced to merge with neighbouring Berriwillock and more recently merged again with two other teams from towns nearby. The one remaining grocery store had to be bought by the local community (with the help of government grants) just so it could stay open, and the Tyrrell Creek hasn’t run for many years (certainly not in the living memory of the kids currently at the school). Farms and machinery have become bigger and most farm businesses are worked and run by a single person or family. Farm labour is no longer affordable.

As for the once popular Culgoa Eucharistic Procession, after 40 continual years it ceased in 1990. The lovely brick Sacred Heart Church still stands and the regular dozen or so parishioners celebrate Mass with a visiting priest once every fortnight. The other Sunday there is a lay-led assembly and every week the faithful pray for rain.

Many of the older generations still attend church each week, but their children and grandchildren are missing. Many, of course, have moved to the cities. Those who still live in the district can be found on the farm, coping with the pressures of prolonged drought by working on Sunday, or playing sport or entertaining themselves to alleviate the depression they are suffering because it won’t rain.

The last eight dry years have shown us that something is not right. What we seem to have lost is a sense of how to connect, with each other and together with God. I believe that most farmers are generally very spiritual people. How could they not be? They work so closely with nature, they are outside and constantly surrounded by God’s creations and his majesty.

At one time, communities would come together and pray when difficulties arose, sharing their dreams and hopes with each other.

Would a revived Eucharistic Procession bring back the rain? Perhaps not, but it’s easier to have hope when your voice is joined in prayer with the rest of your community.

Most of our farmers work alone, spending hour after monotonous hour on the tractor or header. They also, it seems, pray alone these days—if they pray at all.

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