Life of service called ‘user-friendly’ padre

Burleigh’s ‘Big Father’ Morgan Batt was shaken by the despair of Port Arthur but says being abused for the misdeeds of others is an ongoing test

THE moment I hear Father Morgan Batt’s voice on the phone, it triggers my subconscious Catholic guilt.

The next thing I know, I ‘m spontaneously confessing.

All I actually need to do is organise an interview time, but instead I find myself seeking forgiveness for not attending church since … well, a long time.

I know he doesn’t care. I know I don’t care. But there’s something about priests that elicits an extreme response.

And nobody knows that better than Fr Morgan.

The Burleigh Heads Catholic Parish priest may be a relatively new arrival to this city, but he’s been wearing the collar for almost 30 years, in roles as varied as army chaplain (in fact, he prefers the military title of Padre), vocations director for the archdiocese of Brisbane, head of the House of Discernment (where men go to think about becoming a priest), and Professor of Pastoral Theology at the seminary.

He was the parish priest at Port Arthur, Tasmania, at the time of the horrific massacre in 1996, he’s been posted overseas multiple times and earned 14 university degrees.

But while the devotion to his faith has remained the same, reactions do not.

“I’ve been spat at, vilified and abused – physically and verbally – because of what I am … a priest,” he says, speaking calmly.

“I feel vulnerable. I have been made to feel demeaned and belittled. But in the name of remorse and shame for what some clergy have done, I cop it. “Let’s just say it’s tough. But I will

keep going and enabling others to get through this and hope justice is served. May all people, especially those who have been abused, be enabled to move forward. This is my daily prayer.

“The sexual abuse tragedy has been devastating. First and foremost for the victims and their families. But also for Catholics who are reviled for their faith. They consider the crimes just as repugnant, but still believe in the Church.

“As priests, we are the most obvious targets. I was wearing my collar in a cafe here just the other day when a person came up to me and said ‘Oh you’re a Catholic priest … are you a paedophile?’

“I said, ‘I’ll just make one comment to that: I’ve never abused anyone, but you’ve just abused me’. People think it’s OK to abuse.

“Some clergy have done some really disgusting things but there are other clergy who are doing it really tough because of it. But I think we are slowly moving forward.”

In fact, despite the trying times – or perhaps because of them – Fr Morgan says Catholic churches in the city are recording a big increase in numbers.

He says up to 3000 people attend Mass in the Burleigh parish every weekend.

“At Christmas, our children’s Mass alone had 1700 people there. I know a lot of kids who want to come to Mass but the parents don’t. It’s a generational shift.

“The door is always open. There’s no judgment, no admonishment. Life is busy, I get that. If I can get people in church 12 times a year – weddings, funerals, first sacraments, Christmas, Easter – then amen and alleluia.”

Perhaps part of the draw is Fr Morgan himself. He’s a selfconfessed people person, or people priest. As one parishioner put it, he’s “userfriendly”.

In detailing the crazy life that is being a parish priest, Fr Morgan says he’s often thought his life’s work would make a great reality television show – Big Father rather than Big Brother (full credit: that was the Father’s line).

But it’s not just his sense of humour but his resilience that resonates with his flock. It’s a resilience born from a life of profound experience, including helping his Port Arthur parish put back the pieces post-massacre.

“I was the priest for Tasmania’s Richmond parish at that time, which covered a large area, including Port Arthur. I was driving there that Sunday to say mass when I dropped in to see some parishioners on the way.

“When I got there, they said ‘have you heard there’s a gunman shooting up Port Arthur?’. I managed to get down there and the police blocked me, saying, ‘Father, what are you doing here?’

“I explained that this was my parish, I was meant to be saying Mass. From that moment I began to work with police, the parishioners and all of the people of Port Arthur to bring healing.

“I lost numerous parishioners that day ... and numerous parishioners after that day, from suicide, family breakdown and mental illness.

“There are still parts of that day that I will not talk about.”

It’s a day Australians, and many around the world, will never forget. So how, being on the frontline, did he cope?

“I didn’t,” he says simply. “And then I did.

“At first I just didn’t know what to do. For goodness sake, I was 32 years of age.

“The parish priest from Dunblane in Scotland rang me, they’d had an awful massacre just six weeks earlier, and he said to me, ‘Just know that God will protect you and get on with it’. So I did.

“I gathered around me an army of supportive people, we answered phones, dealt with the media, processed letters. We received 42,000 letters.

“We became the healing industry of Port Arthur. In the end, it was amazing.”

Fr Morgan has travelled to more than 190 countries and, as a keen mountaineer, has climbed 217 of the world’s highest mountains. He even said Mass at the top of Everest.

As an obvious overachiever, however, he finds this number a little disappointing. He actually has a list of 259 peaks.

“I’ve made a deal with myself. I’m allowed to not make it to the top of five per cent on that list. I’m at an age now where I have to accept the reality of what my body can and can’t do.”

Facing reality is something Fr Morgan seems unafraid of.

His path to priesthood is a perfect illustration.

“One day the parish priest yelled out to me across the road, ‘Morgan! Come talk to me tonight’.

“I had the most wonderful conversation with this priest. My father died when I was quite young so I hadn’t talked to an adult man about my life.

“He said, ‘I’d like you to think about becoming a priest’. And I said, ‘Well, I need to talk to my girlfriend’.”

But wait, the story gets better.

“So I saw Madge the next day and I said, ‘What do you think about me becoming a priest?’ She just said: ‘Yep’. I said ‘What? Don’t you love me anymore?’

“She said, ‘Look, I love you heaps but you have too much love for one woman. Every time we go out, you’re helping the homeless or you’re talking to people in the street. Go and become a priest, would you’?”

Funnily enough, Fr Morgan was also born to be on the Gold Coast.

Not only did his great aunt own the former dairy farm on Hope Island but his father, Ewan McDermott Batt, was the engineer responsible for the planning and development of Paradise Waters. If you visit Admiralty Drive in that suburb, you’ll see a park named in his honour.

While Fr Morgan grew up in Brisbane, by the time he was 18 he was a regular in Cavill Ave, although not quite like the rest of us.

“I was employed as a street youth worker on the Gold Coast in the early ’80s. Myself and two brothers, we all lived in this little two-bedroom 1960s unit on Cavill Ave.

“We had an open-house policy where homeless people would come see us every day. We had a stack of blankets in the corner and they’d take one for the night and drop it back the next day.”

I can see where Madge was coming from.

While his passion for the job hasn’t changed, he says the church has.

“We’re not black and white, we welcome all of the shades of grey. We welcome everyone. My door is always open.”

But he does have one small confession. “Well, sometimes I’m down at the beach or climbing Burleigh Headland.”

Hey, it’s not easy living in (Surfers) Paradise on Earth.