On March 9, Athol Gill died suddenly of a heart attack. He was 54 years old. Athol was a theologian, teacher, activist, and community leader. He was a father to the radical Christian movement in Australia, and his influence was felt around the world. He was a friend of mine and of Sojourners, who visited and taught us here in Washington on more than one occasion (see "Unity at the Center," Sojourners , June 1990).
Whenever I was in Australia, I would spend time with Athol. We traveled together, spoke together, strategized together, laughed and talked together long into many nights. His community, The House of the Gentle Bunyip (named after a mythical Australian creature), was a place of hospitality for me many times.
Many American Christians didn't know Athol Gill, but to all those who are committed to what he used to call "radical discipleship," Athol has made a profound contribution. His passing must be noted, his life celebrated, and his place in our collective history honored. The following is a fond tribute to Athol Gill which was sent to be read at his memorial service in Melbourne.
The shock continues. We were not ready for this. Not Athol. The thought of never being with him again still seems unbelievable and unacceptable. The memories flood the mind and heart. At this moment they become great treasures. The tough old bear and the gentle bunyip. The uncompromising radical and the tender pastor.
The prophet, whose passion for justice would not let the church get off easily, and yet, whose love for the church kept him from giving up on it--on us. Who was more serious about the things which our societies refused to take seriously, and yet, who would you rather be with for an evening of laughter and joy?
The tireless builder of community, yet with such private and lonely places few could touch. The consummate teacher and rigorous scholar who, nonetheless, eschewed the comforts and rewards of academic comfortability and acceptance. The one who always brought up the troubling questions like "What about the poor?" or "Why are we fighting this war?" or "Should we follow leaders who are liars and hypocrites?" or, most of all, "What does Jesus say about this?" It just seemed natural to him that a New Testament teacher should try to draw us back to Jesus. And he did--relentlessly. What could be a better epitaph than that?
Oh Athol, we were not prepared to see you go this soon. We always thought we would have more time with you. Assumed it. Took it and you for granted. Perhaps that's a lesson for us now. Another thing you will teach us about community. Never take each other for granted. Cherish, and treasure, and forgive, and love--right now, without delay.
You worked too hard for us, Athol. But you leave us so much. The candles keeping vigil around the world are testimony to that. This one's labors were not in vain. Oh no. This one has many children and disciples and brothers and sisters and kindred spirits who will remember him always. This one's legacy is as large as his heart and as amazing as the grace of God.
I loved Athol Gill. He was my friend. Our community found in him a teacher, a brother, and, most of all, a ceaseless encourager. Yesterday, someone recalled the image of Athol, with all our children gathered around him, reading them the story of the Gentle Bunyip.
Athol now joins the company of those who will forever hover over us all, cheering us on, holding us in intercessory affection, watching over us with loving care. That smiling, bearded face will be ever planted in our collective consciousness.
To paraphrase the poet,
"His candle burned
At both its ends,
It did not last the night.
But to his foes and to his friends,
It gave a lovely light."
Jim Wallis is editor-in-chief of Sojourners.
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