He still uses the sign to communicate his convictions, perhaps with a little less saliva and vinegar. Last Sunday, a side of the council said “keep Gosford free from nuclear weapons”, a position that is unlikely to generate much controversy here. The other side, however, showed that it is not yet averse to throwing a party punch: “put the extreme right on the list of terrorists”.
“You are caught in the vortex,” he said of the time he spent in the spotlight. “People appreciate what you are saying and you become one of those voices.”
“The middle ground is difficult,” he added, leaning back in his chair, revealing red socks under his black and white suit. “We only hear the extremes.”
With his short, spiky hair and neatly trimmed beard, Father Bower, 58, has something of the womb – another bristling, though lovable, Australian from nature. He is not afraid to curse, play with old hangovers or give a barefoot sermon. He is a priest at home in the mud of existence.
He grew up in an agricultural area north of Sydney, adopted and raised by livestock farmers. Her foster father died when Father Bower was 13, and his adolescence was spent mostly working – on the land and as a butcher. It is a story that he never completely left behind; “The Ethical Omnivore” is next to religious texts on the shelf in his office.
The displacement of being adopted, a fact that he said he always knew, but only started to process fully at the age of 20, motivated him to seek God and the priesthood.
“It was part of my search for identity,” he said. “He came with a title and a uniform.”
Many of his parishioners found Father Bower and the church where he served as rector for more than two decades when he saw the messages on the sign outside – not passing on the road, but seeing them on Facebook.