Kind of related but not really: went to the Good Friday service today at 3pm. The prayers of the faithful were read by different people from the congregation in the different languages spoken. Everyone read a prepared prayer, with the English translation projected on the screen. All except the indigenous guy, where the screen was blank. He said he would’ve liked to have prayed in the language of his community, but when he was a baby, his Mum wasn’t allowed to speak to him in their language, and he’d have to go to TAFE to learn it now. So he just did a improvised prayer for reconciliation in English, instead. It was just so honest and frank and poignant.