Even a dog knows when it does something wrong. I suppose a man's conscience cannot be any less sensitive; yet, when he sets his mind on some goal, he expediently gets it done by hook or by crook. In this process, man will elbow through the crowd, push the weaklings away and, if necessary, he may even walk over those he pushed down. Wasn't it Darwin who said life was a struggle for existence? In spite of Buddha, Jesus and all the sermons delivered from pulpits throughout the world, one law which continues to prevail in all societies is the shameful dictum, 'Might is right'.
Some people, less objective than Darwin and motivated by compassion, argued that life was not all struggle. They pointed out a number of positive instances of co-operative behaviour in the communal lives lived by several species of beings who set before man the great example of sacrifice. When man sacrifices, even a hard-hearted wretch thinks of this act as something deeply moving. In fact, all our saints, saviours, prophets and men of worth are praised for this one quality - living for another, and for burning away the candle of their life for the sheer delight of giving light to others.
In spite of the great examples set by these luminaries of human goodness, man is possessed by the demonic frenzy to be first in line to gather the fruits of life before anyone else can reach them. Secretly, every man is ashamed of his self-centredness and of his own conceit. There was a time when th big muscular fellow with the loudest voice and strongest fist could overpower others and live on the booty of his exploitation, but then he was lunged at by another who could aim a spear from a distance. The spear was eventually replaced by the arrows of the sharp-shooter until civilisation became the monoploy of those who could weild a gun and then the hunting grounds expanded. We have a history of at least two millennia of slavery. It is on the bones and skulls of the voiceless slaves that the superstructure of today's civilisation is erected.
Those who have come to live under the roof of that culture are now becoming more and more conscious of the wrong that man has done to himself. This is a wrong that man has done not by just one people to another, but it occurred everywhere. Righteous indignation welled up in several hearts and the sting of conscience caused both revolt and reform. Dickenses, Hugos, Lincolns, Gandhis rose everywhere, and throughout the world laws were enacted to protect the vulnerable from the indiscreet. In spite of the great goals set by the constitutions of various nations, by universities and by the highest seats of justice, the good and evil that have polarised in social life continue to be as oppressive as ever for the mute millions who are always the victims of exploitation.
In one of his recent inspired talks, Pope John Paul II speaks of the great anger that ripens into love and beauty. This might sound paradoxical, but I can testify to the truth of it by calling the world's attention to the example of a lonely man in whose veins dwells the spirit of the entire world. I don't say he is the only man of his kind, but I believe that people like him are the only hope of mankind.
I am speaking of William Ricketts of Mount Dandenong, who is unknown even to the well-informed elite living in the city of Melbourne which is not 30 miles away from this solitary man's sanctuary of love. No one did any wrong to William Ricketts, but his conscience was stung by the guilt of the multitude among whom he was destined to live. He thought it appropriate to take upon himself the sins of his fellow men who have converted rainforests to deserts, brought many species of animals and birds to extinction, and stripped the gentle folks, who lived the oldest culture of man, of everything they were proud of.
These were the feelings of Jesus Christ when he saw the sins of his fellow man. He gave his life as a price to win back to sanity the conscience of man. I am not comparing William Ricketts to Jesus, but it is easy to understand how this noble man, a true seer and poet of our day, decided not to die for the cause of mankind but to live for it, and o live in the most beautiful manner.
He fights a battle like an Alexander or an Asoka, but with one difference, his only tools are his two hands. His creed is to create, not to destroy. His hands do not bleed anyone, they only feed. For him sculptoring or molding is not to win the laurels of an artist; in fact, his great works will not be found decorating art galleries or museums. His work is an offering to sun and moon, Mother Earth and her moisture which generates life.
If the United Nations on the banks of the Hudson River, overshadowed by the great metropolis of New York, represents the mouth of the geodialectical dragon of world civilisation, the dragon's tail-end is in Mount Dandenong. Even the slightest sting on the tail will make the mouth howl. William Ricketts is not a stinging scorpion; what he can infuse into the consciousness of world polity is good sense. He performs this miracle by calling humanity's attention to look into the sparkling eyes of the innocent children of Australia's Aborigines. The pain of the aborigine is not confined to Australia, it is found in India and China, Ethiopia and Tunisia, Europe and America - it is everYwhere. William Ricketts' marvelous example attests the great teaching of the Buddha - "It is not by hatred that hatred is appeased, but hatred is appeased by love."
My salutation to his work and his message.
Words of Bruna Galli about William Ricketts
