Tim Costello - A Lot With a Little

To Winifred Grace Costello my first grandchild, born as I finished writing this book.

Many of the people in this book you will never get to meet, but they are part of my story and thereby they are now part of yours.

To this story, you are welcomed with faith, hope and love.

CONTENTS

This book is a memoir. It is an explanation of my life thus far, and, as such, is not exhaustive, nor does it draw themes to neat conclusions in the way of an autobiography.

In part, it is an exercise in trying to understand how the memories and experiences of childhood and family upbringing scripted me in unseen ways that only later in life became apparent. My story is full of people and their contribution to the person I have become. It is unashamedly an acknowledgement of the influence of my parents and their parents, placing me in a flow of history with Irish, Scottish and English roots. We assume we just make free choices, but in looking back I am surprised at the power of my family script in shaping my choices. It raises the question of what was nature and what was nurture. Of course, this exercise is fraught, as childhood memories, not to mention our interpretation of them, are always contested in families. They offer multiple meanings, and siblings understandably interpret them differently.

My aim is for this book to be an exploration of what it means to go deeper, asserting that both individual and community, public and private, spiritual and material, equality and liberty are fundamental to my struggle to be ethical and to find meaning.

I am aware of the public Tim Costello, the activist, but often Im quite surprised by what mirrors back from people who I have never met before but who seem to feel they know me. The Tim they think I am is often strangely difficult for me to recognise. They often repeat things I said that I cannot remember saying. But clearly they have taken hope from a story I have told, and it has had deep resonance in their own lives. I am aware of the personal Tim Costello, and my duty in writing a memoir for others beyond my family is to be vulnerable and personal, because what else is the point? But Im also aware of the private Tim Costello, some aspects of which I have chosen not to reveal. I know that the reader will urge me to disclose but I choose not to.

A book about oneself, in my view, requires no obligation to disclose absolutely every secret, otherwise it may hurt people; and what is left of personal identity and privacy? In this respect I recognise that any book written by oneself is regrettably, in part, a deceit perpetrated on the reader. But the alternative, of totally unfiltered transparency, is neither possible nor desirable.

I am seeking to speak truly, but accept that not everything can be disclosed and that memory is often selective and faulty. Memory is a complicated thing, a relative to truth but not its twin according to Barbara Kingsolver.

This memoir also places my life in a faith story that is so much bigger than my bit part. I am indebted to so many who have borne, taught, and mentored me as I have grown into the man of faith I am today. Some of you will find faiths part in my story strange or perhaps overstated. Bear with me if you can. I make no sense without it.

My faith is grounded in the story of Jesus and the impact it has had on the world. This story has personal, spiritual, social, moral, ethical and, yes, even political implications. It is these implications I seek to explore in order to explain my story, not just to you but also to myself.

Faith creates meaning. It is faith that releases me to recognise that my primary desire is for my life to mean something. This is much more primal than even the pursuit of happiness. I write this memoir because I believe we all need to commit ourselves to something bigger, beyond self-absorption. I hope it stirs you to think of what grounds you and gives your life purpose also.

It is important for me to add that all the views expressed in this book are my own. They are not those of organisations I have worked for, such as Urban Seed and World Vision Australia, nor of the World Vision Partnership. I started writing this book in June 2018 when I was Chief Advocate at World Vision Australia, but by the time of its completion I had tended my resignation and moved into a new stage of my life.

Tim Costello

On a wintry day in June 2016 I am sitting on the platform before the commencement of my fathers funeral. At my mothers insistence I am clad in a borrowed clergy gown, as one needs to set the right tone. On that day, in that place, I am both the ordained presider who has the order of service to lead through, and the grieving older son who has no idea what emotions will surface, nor when.

I look out on the gathered crowd in that large, modern suburban church. I see my mother looking both strained and poised, my sister next to her, eyes already reddened. And sitting around them an array of my family: my own children, my wife, my brother and his wife, my nieces and nephews. Then there are rows upon rows of familiar faces, some giving me faint smiles of encouragement: people we have known all our lives from nearby Blackburn and its warm, stable neighbourhood. Mostly these were people who, like us, had attended the local Baptist church there, a church long ago sold off but now morphed into this building in which we sit. I am amazed that more than 500 people have turned up for a ninety-seven-year-olds funeral.

I see other friends who have travelled some distance, and rows of my World Vision colleagues who have only had to cross the street from our building to be present here; and I feel glad they did. My eye catches the faces of a clutch of federal politicians here, no doubt, to honour and support my brother, Peter, who had served his time with distinction in their midst.

The soft music comes to a dignified end and I clear my throat, walk to the podium, adjust my notes and raise my head to begin...

We are gathered here today to give thanks to God for the life of Russell John Costello, a much-loved man. I welcome you one and all on behalf of his whole family. Russell Costello was a loved son, brother, husband of Anne, father, father-in-law, grandfather, friend, soldier, lay preacher, teacher, sports coach, Bible study leader, elder, pastoral visitor, mentor, encourager and so much more to so many people...

The service is very much a Costello affair. Russells three children can all handle the public eye and so Peter and Janet both pay our father moving personal tributes. And most of his eight grandchildren say something to honour the Papa they adored, who had sheltered them in unconditional love and faithful prayer all their lives.

We carry his coffin to the waiting hearse and I start the slow walk in front of it with the undertaker. The driveway and street are lined with people in a guard of honour for my father: a symbol of respect for him and the family he has produced. The emotions that have swirled inside me hit the backs of my eyes and tears start to seep through. This is the final farewell to the man who has shaped so much of who I am.

As I said in my final reflection in the service, a mighty sheltering cedar of Lebanon has fallen. I added that the cedars of Lebanon are ancient and live a long time. They provide shelter and protection for so many. Russell was with us a long time, but, sadly, today there are few cedars of Lebanon left. Our grief is that, like them, there are very few Russell Costellos left.