The photograph on this week’s front cover features St. Joan of Arc Church in Haberfield. It was taken just past sunset, at a small 6pm Mass when the tower bells began to ring and the priest was starting his sermon. Beyond a dim yellow glow emanating from inside the nave, only the crucifix at the centre of the image kept Dalhousie Street alight.
My family has attended this church since my great-grandparents migrated from Italy in the 1950s. My mother was baptised here. It is also where we held her father’s funeral. When I refused to undertake my communion in Year 4 — my scripture teacher could not justify why a woman would never be the Pope, so I no longer saw the point in going to church — St. Joan of Arc became somewhere I could no longer go.
Life, death, and purgatory: these are the themes you will find in my edition’s focus on Antichrist.
Lotte Weber first reckons with the meaning of volunteering in “faith nations” like Australia, and queries if we would still be selfless if not for our religion. On page 12, Ravkaran Grewal critically reflects on Bhagat Singh’s seminal essay Why I Am An Atheist amidst contemporary anti-colonial struggles. Later, we hear from Purny Ahmed on the interconnectedness between Islam, family, hardship and defiance.
Of course, no reckoning with Antichrist would be complete without a little bit of sin and blasphemy. In this week’s feature article, I explored how politics manifests in the bedroom for self-proclaimed ‘left-wing’ or ‘progressive’ couples of all sexualities. A far cry from the visions of ecstasy and reciprocity we hope to find in these spaces, intimacy remains coloured by the quintessential Christian values of shame, guilt and gendered power.
Although I no longer believe in what it represents, I still pass that neon blue cross every morning and night. When it was first installed, all I could do was stop and stare. I hope that you have the same feeling — a mixture of blind awe, fury and grace — as you explore the brilliant work of each writer and artist who has contributed to this edition.
Yours without faith,
Simone.
