Anglican Taonga Spring 2016

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SPRING 2016 // No.52

Taonga ANGLICAN

PEOPLE

Beating a different drum

Andrew Judd steps out on Parihaka’s path of peace MISSION

George Ehau

His legacy of caring for the last, the lost and the least PUBLIC THEOLOGY

Deciding to die Where will assisted suicide lead us?

GOD OFF THE GPS : : FRANCIS’ WAY OF PEACE : : MATARIKI & ME : : ANGELS AT SEA

S P R I N G

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ANGLICAN TAONGA

SPRING 2016

E D U C AT I O N

New lease of life

for Hukarere Wahine toa! Hukarere boarders welcome synod.

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ukarere Girl’s College offered a strong and confident welcome to General Synod at the school’s Eskvale campus this May. Synod came in train behind long-time Hukarere supporter, Archbishop Brown Turei, to take part in blessing a new chapel site for the school. Hukarere Principal Lelie Pearcey reported that the school’s roll sat at 91 this May, including 70 boarders. She highlighted the girls’ academic results, which easily outran the national average last year. “The girls are doing pretty well,” Lelie said. “Actually they’re doing very well. Our pass

It's great to be Māori; it's great to succeed.

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Hukarere principal Lelie Pearcey lauds the students' achievements.

rate for all three NCEA levels is 100%.” Today’s picture contrasts with 2012, when financial pressures on Te Aute College Trust Board threatened the future of both Hukarere and Te Aute Colleges. The fiscal future of both schools has brightened, now that St John’s College Trust Board (SJCTB) has stepped up with 13.6M in funding and added its governance support as the Te Aute Board. Te Aute Trust Chair, Stephen Jacobi reports the Trust now hopes to sharpen its asset management, particularly over ground leases on land, and by lifting business performance for its two farms. After upgrading teaching and boarding facilities, the Te Aute Trust has invested in strengthening the schools’ Ma-ori Anglican character: through fully resourced chaplains, specialist Te Reo Ma-ori teachers, and increased pastoral support through new social worker services. Te Aute Trust Board member Maui Tangohau reported that Anglican special character remains a drawcard for Ma-ori parents. Many appreciate the schools’ Christian basis, he told synod, and value the way they build up students’ faith through baptism and confirmation. Another bright sign for the two Ma-ori Anglican schools comes from recent media reports showing demand for Ma-ori schools may

be on the rise. In August 2016, for example, Rotorua’s kura kaupapa – full immersion Ma-ori language schools – reported lengthening waiting lists for places, as more parents opt for Te Reo and a Ma-ori cultural environment. Fresh research has pegged another reason why strong Ma-ori education gets results. In July 2016, a newly released study1 picked up on racial bias amongst teachers in mainstream schools, showing that low teacher expectations can hamper Ma-ori students’ chances of success. Responding to the bias claims in July, Geneveine Wilson of Victoria University Ma-ori Students’ Association told Radio New Zealand2 that most Ma-ori university students she knows are graduates of kura kaupapa or Ma-ori boarding schools. "They're quite different, entirely because they have been taught that it's great to be Ma-ori, and it's great to succeed and this is what success in education looks like.” "They have had positive role modelling. “Bias wouldn't exist in an environment where being Ma-ori is the most important." Notes 1.www.stuff.co.nz/national/education/81931922 2. www.radionz.co.nz/news/national/308357/teacher-biashurting-maori-education


ANGLICAN TAONGA

Anglican Taonga SPRING 2016

SPRING 2016

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WINTER 2016

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MISSION

MISSION

PEOPLE

REGULAR

Their move wasn’t entirely plain sailing. Prospective employers struggled with the notion that a Maori could be a registered electrician, and Mr and Mrs Ehau had no luck finding a place to rent... But George eventually found work, and when they searched using Wyn’s maiden name – Parker – they found a place, too.

Our well-worn words that point to God no longer have an easy audience, says Bishop John Pritchard. What Christians need to look for now, he says, are different ways to lead hearts and minds toward the divine.

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George Ehau was a popular pick to become the next bishop of Te Waipounamu.

14 Young Adults: Spanky Moore discovers the power of silence 31 Children: Patricia Allan fosters children’s belonging through art 32 Spirituality: Adrienne Thompson glories in God’s work at Matariki 42 Film: John Bluck finds thorny redemption in a homegrown saga 43 The Far Side: Imogen de la Bere delights in hues divine Anglican Taonga is published by General Synod and distributed to all ministry units and agencies of the Anglican Church in Aotearoa, New Zealand and Polynesia – Te Haahi Mihinare ki Aotearoa ki Niu Tireni ki nga Moutere o Te Moana Nui a Kiwa. Editor Julanne Clarke-Morris 786 Cumberland Street Otepoti – Dunedin 9016 Ph 03 477-1556 julanneclarkemorris@gmail.com Design Marcus Thomas Design info@marcusthomas.co.nz Distribution Aleshia Lawson Taonga Distribution Manager PO Box 6431, Dunedin 9059 taongadistribution@gmail.com Advertising Brian Watkins Ph 06 875-8488 021 072-9892 brian@grow.co.nz Media Officer Lloyd Ashton Ph 09 521-4439 021 348-470 mediaofficer@anglicanchurch.org.nz.

Andrew Judd leads 500 Peace Walkers on to Parihaka -. Pa He's carrying Haruru ki Tawhiti - the drum which the people of Parihaka asked him to beat as he walked. They haven't handed that drum over before.

And Lloyd Ashton has been learning where he’s really coming from.

When God's Our most

inconvenient truth

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"Never in my life," he says, 'had I ever placed Maoridom and God together.'

t the 2013 local body elections, Andrew Judd campaigned for the mayoralty of New Plymouth on the slogan: Let’s bring honesty back into local politics. He bolted in, too, with a majority of 9000. Andrew was thinking about his city’s finances when he coined that slogan. But God must have taken him at his word… Because he’s plumbed the depths of honesty and self-revelation since that election. He’s come to a place where he introduces himself in meetings as though he were on a 12-step programme: “I’m Andrew Judd. “And I’m a recovering racist.” In his time as mayor he’s gone from being

routinely enraged at the “special privilege” for Ma-ori… to leading a move to put a Ma-ori ward on the New Plymouth council – to seeing that ward pitched out, neck and crop, by a citizen’s referendum. Andrew’s moves on Ma-ori representation have proven so divisive that he’s decided he won’t stand again. Instead, he’s now searching for ways to “walk into a new conversation” – and on June 17 he led 500 people on to Parihaka Pa-, after a three-day “Peace Walk” from New Plymouth. So what’s that got to do with us? Well, Andrew Judd is a cradle Anglican. He was a choir boy and altar server at St Matthew’s Masterton – he was confirmed there too – and now goes to St Chad’s, West

New Plymouth. But Andrew says his most profound spiritual experiences happened, not in church, nor in his quiet place, nor on a mountaintop – but on his first visit to a marae, in June 2014. As Mayor, he’d been invited to attend Sir Maui Pomare Day1 at Owae Marae in Waitara. It was a solemn event – they always recount the Parihaka story that day – and they sang waiata and said karakia. Those prayers and spiritual songs undid Andrew: “Never in my life,” he says, “had I ever placed Ma-oridom and God together. “I don't know why. I just never had. “Yet, here I was… feeling His presence, really.” Andrew says he could also see, etched in faces, the rawness of the losses Taranaki Ma-ori had endured2 because of their “rebellion” during the Land Wars. “These were consequences that I’d been blind to all my life, and had in fact made conscious efforts to distance myself from. “I couldn’t explain that. Because here I was, going to church, praying for the

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t’s remarkable how quickly it’s happened. Thirty years ago you could have counted on a common understanding of at least some basic religious words and concepts.

Top: Twenty kilometres walked that day, 100m to go. The Bishop of Taranaki encourages Andrew Judd before they are called on to Parihaka Pa. On the road again.

disadvantaged. I’d just been going through the motions.’ For Andrew, the impact went deeper still. Because in some mystical way he felt the people’s love for his once-rednecked soul: “It was as if I could feel them wrap around me. In fact, I felt more love and connection on that marae than I have in some churches.” *

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By the time he’d come to Owae, Andrew had already begun to change his attitudes. That process had begun a couple of months after he’d been sworn into office.

He’d driven to a protest in Waitara about the Pekapeka land block perpetual leases. “I heard complaints out there from some residents who were concerned that the iwi was getting back the land and ‘were going to kick us off’. “As I was driving back to my office, I was getting into my groove: “‘I'm sick of all this. When’s it going to end? Enough’s enough! I’m the mayor, and I will do something about this!’ “So I’m all raged-up, and I asked my staff: ‘Where are we at with this Te Atiawa settlement2? “They gave me the documentation. I opened it up on the page that starts with Te Atiawa’s account of its own history.

There are divine finger-prints all over the universe.

Today, for most people under 35, traditional religious language has crumbled away. It’s not on the radar. It’s gone. In Aotearoa New Zealand, 48% of people are prepared to identify with the word Christian, 41.9% saying they have no religion. In 2006, the national census put the figure at 55.6%, down from 58.9% in 2001. In the UK, fewer than 50% of the population know what happened at Easter, or can recount the Christmas story, and 40% don’t even believe that Jesus was a historical figure. Christian belief seems to be falling off a cliff in some parts of the world – while it’s in rude good health and storming ahead in others. There are 70,000 more Christians in the world every day of the year apparently, by net growth. By the middle of the century the largest Christian population will be in China. But the West has a different story to tell. How then do we make contact with a

But that was not to be. Just 11 days after that March event, George died.

Who put the wonder into wonderful?

off the GPS

disbelieving generation? Clearly we need to start further back. Perhaps we need to start with ordinary human experiences that have within them the potential for a connection with the divine, the elusive ‘something more’ that humankind seems designed to seek. Perhaps we need to take the concept of incarnation deeply seriously and recognise that there are divine finger-prints all over the universe, and particularly in the everyday experience of women and men. Our task is to help people join up the dots.

Naming the gap Take the common human feeling of incompleteness, that, in the words of the U2 song, ‘I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.’ Sometimes it seems that two plus two equals three. Life is OK in an OK kind of way, wandering along in a safe, middling kind of register, but it feels as if there should be something else, some

‘Wow,’ then what now?

bigger story, some deeper satisfaction. What’s that all about?

But that’s just one common human experience. What about the wonder I experience on a mountain top in the Himalayas, or when I hold a scrunched up, freshly minted grandchild? Who put the wonder into wonderful?

Beyond the ‘me’ universe Perhaps, in a way, we’re no longer using maps for our exploration of life, but relying on GPS. This little hand-held device will tell us we’re the centre of the universe and it really doesn’t matter that we don’t know where we are, because our little helper will put us on the right track. So now we’re the centre of everything, the Big Me - but where that is in relation to anything else is unknown and irrelevant. Except, unfortunately, that we’re lost. Perhaps we won’t know where we are until we take responsibility for our location and make our own decisions. Perhaps we won’t know where we are until we look up from our GPS, our addiction to ourselves, and get to know a wider landscape and a larger world. Living alone in a friendless universe can leave us feeling disorientated and incomplete; acknowledging that incompleteness could be the start of a journey from the self to the soul, a journey towards faith.

Suffering which breaks open the concrete that material success has laid over our lives. The Search for meaning that rises for many in the second half of life. Transitions: those unexpected discoveries that often surround life events like birth, marriage or death.

Emerging out of chaos

No givens anymore

Or what about the universal experience of mess? ‘I wish I could start all over again’ we feel. ‘Nobody’s perfect, but I’m in deep xxxx’. Is that a starting point to think again about values, beliefs, how life can be good? “There’s a crack in everything,” sang Leonard Cohen, “That’s how the light gets in.” Between all the cracks in our lives, perhaps a green shoot can emerge.

Of course, none of these experiences guarantee engagement with the ‘something more’ of life. People may not find any resonance in these signals of transcendence. But at least they can provide a neutral starting point and the opportunity, perhaps, for Christians to give some account of how these experiences make sense to them. Two things are clear. First, the old language isn’t cutting it. And second, God has not retired. So, in a new cultural context we have the exciting task of refashioning our invitation to the spiritual journey. E.M Forster said it well: ‘Only connect.’

Making connections Loads of human experiences can lead us Desire: What are we really reaching for, or is something reaching for us? The Arts: Those human creations which writer and broadcaster Bel Mooney says make agnostics like her ‘tiptoe towards the deity’ because ‘art has the power to make the universe shiver.’

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With George’s church it was: ‘Come as you are’

Bishop John Pritchard retired as Bishop of Oxford in 2014 and now lives in North Yorkshire.

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A Kermadec red-crowned parakeet poses for a portrait.

1. Euthanasia is a deliberate intervention by a medical professional (or other person), intended to relieve distress by ending a person’s life. 2. Assisted suicide is when a person selfadministers a premature death with the active assistance of a third party. 3. Physician-assisted suicide is death caused by a self-administered lethal substance prescribed by a doctor.

A time to die

Legal therapies already exist to hold back pain and help people die with dignity.

As members of the InterChurch Bioethics Council, Graham O’Brien and Joy McIntosh have listened closely to recent debates as euthanasia advocates call for the ‘right to die.’ As scientists and Christians, they’d rather we took a step back to look at the big picture before rushing in with quick solutions.

If I had ended it then, I would have missed so much.

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ecent reports and media polls might suggest a global movement is hastening us toward legalising assisted suicide. In fact, the opposite is true. Campaigners have sought to legalise assisted suicide in 247 jurisdictions around the world, but have succeeded in only nine. In the USA alone, all but four of 175 attempts have failed.1

Over the last ten years, New Zealand has faced similar challenges,2 accompanied by public conversations that sometimes show scant understanding of what lies at the heart of this debate. To begin with, there’s the vital difference between active medical death and the many legal therapies that already help people to die with dignity, and with limited pain, yet as a result of their condition.

How will medicine change, if death becomes a treatment?

Ethical slippery slope? Experts in ethics and biotechnology claim legalised suicide could pressure patients and families, in either real or perceived ways. Laws enacted to meet extreme cases may carry the unwanted side effect of compelling others onto the quickest route to death. One Kiwi who understands this situation is Andrea Saumolia (38), a Presbyterian mother of seven from Lower Hutt. Andrea was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2014 and is still undergoing treatment for secondary bone cancer. “With my own diagnosis, I was worried about being pressured, or my husband

Finding God’s palette

in paradise

Pain isn't why most people choose to die.

being pressured, in the name of not suffering.” she said. “But I believe we serve a God who at any moment can turn things around.” “Some seasons are harder work than others, and there is value and purpose in every season. “So to try and put a time limit on someone’s life is wrong.” Ian Thatcher questions the pain argument too. “As a society there is a drive to minimise pain, but suffering is not all bad…we are on our knees a bit more... and we can’t appreciate the good unless there is some bad.” “If you take assisted suicide as ‘longterm pain relief’ it’s irreversible – there is no turning back, no chance to change your mind.”

Sarah Wilcox visits the island of Raoul in the Kermadec Islands, an in-between place drenched in the abundant life of God’s creation.

Keep out of the way, let Creation do its own thing...

Who decides life is ‘unbearable’?

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There was a problem, though, says Rick. Hardly any of the crew flooding into Faith Family Fellowship had jobs. What made that especially problematic was that a) unemployment was going through the roof in the late 1970s, and b) hardly any of those guys were employable anyway. In 1979-1980 a few people from Faith Family decided to do something about that. They formed a Christian work trust which they called Wai Ora, which means: ‘Living Waters’. The trust had no money – but a generous supporter loaned it the deposit for a prime 17-acre pastoral block in Watsons Rd, Harewood, near Christchurch airport. During the 1980s, up to 1000 unemployed people a year would find their feet out there. They planted market gardens. They helped run a nursery and a green grocery stall – and they got stuck into land and water restoration

ikau palms tangle with pohutukawa branches on their way to the sun. At almost every step, tui and ka-ka-riki fly out from ferns and bracken below. These plants and birds feel familiar to me but not quite the same. I’m on a trip to explore Raoul Island – the largest in a group of islands lying 1000 kilometres north of Tauranga. It’s New Zealand with a subtropical twist. Raoul is the only habitable island in an arc of volcanoes that stretch from Ruapehu and Ngauruhoe through White Island northwards. Four other small islands break the surface but many more lie hidden in the depths of the Pacific Ocean. The islands are at the centre of the planned Kermadec Ocean Sanctuary, which from November will protect 620,000 square kilometres of ocean in New Zealand’s exclusive economic zone. It will be a big win for conservation. One that will ensure this unique seascape and astounding undersea volcanoes are protected from fishing, mining and other exploitation for generations to come. I believe that one of the best things we can do for the environment is leave it alone. National parks and wilderness areas have shown the value of this approach on land – marine reserves do the same in our oceans. Keep out of the way, let Creation do it’s own thing. The sanctuary will protect parts of the Kermadec trench, which at 10,000 metres is one of our planet’s deepest places. A few mysterious creatures have been discovered already, but many new curiosities await the next explorers. As our ship travelled north, the solid green and brown world slipped behind and we went on into the bluest of blue oceans. Seabirds, flying fish and flying squid flashed into view then away. I learned to look for feather details on tiny wings and admire God creating with a liquid medium. Pigmy sperm whales, false killer whales and several pods of dolphins joined us for a time. At Raoul we snorkelled with Galapagos sharks, which although harmless, got my heart racing when they glided alongside. Once I swam into a school of long silvery fish. When I looked back, they had formed a complete circle around me, as though I were a fellow fish. We saw blue maomao, spotted lionfish, kingfish, turtles and a large grouper – such an unusual mix of temperate and tropical species is typical of this area. Strange bird names took on real forms. I learned to identify Kermadec and black-

winged petrels, recognise red-tailed tropic birds and distinguish masked boobies from their visiting red-footed cousins. High cliffs surround most of Raoul and hide its beating volcanic heart from view. Besides the pumice rocks and regular small earthquakes, it’s easy to forget that you’re walking on an active volcano. Here tragically in 2006, an eruption claimed the life of Mark Kearney, a Department of Conservation worker. The cliffs discouraged long-term settlement, but Raoul was a stopping off place for Polynesian voyagers and home to various keen pioneers. Most remarkable were the Bell family. Tom, its adventurous and dogmatic patriarch, dreamed of a life as King of the Kermadecs, farming this Pacific paradise to resupply passing ships with fresh fruits and meat. In 1878 with his wife Frederica and six young children, he left Samoa for Sunday Island (as Raoul was then known) to take possession of the uninhabited isle. The reality was not what Tom imagined. When the family opened the tins of flour they had purchased from the ship’s captain, they discovered that box after box was mouldy and inedible. So began their life of living off the land as Tom co-opted the elder girls Hettie and Bess (then aged only 11 and 9) to prise limpets off the rocks, catch wild goats and dig large gardens to plant kumara, taro and other vegetables. But hard unrelenting work and faith in God got them through, with Bible readings and an evening hymn marking the close of every day. Denham Bay, on the western side of Raoul, was the family’s first home. Large swells and dumping surf make landing here impossible most of the time, but in the right conditions, like we had, it’s a beautiful, benign beach. A few reminders of the Bells remain – the

citrus trees they planted, a rusting mincer and a candlenut tree that provided light for a while when lamp oil ran out. Those goats subsequently overran the island, eating almost everything they could reach, even walking the length of pohutukawa boughs to get to the outermost leaves. After the last goat was shot in 1984, and the rats and feral cats removed in 2003, the vegetation began to recover. A white-flowered hebe, found only on this island, reemerged when it was thought to be extinct. But so too did the weeds. Aroid lily, passionfruit, ageratum, Madeira vine and more nasties are gradually being brought under control by a team from DOC. Up to ten staff live on the island for months at a time, doing a great job despite the steep terrain and perfect growing conditions. But as any gardener knows, you can never let up. The weeding has been going for twenty years, and may take another thirty to complete. Passionfruit are being targeted at the moment, with teams combing the bush in a grid search to find and destroy all seedlings. We were probably the last visitors the Raoul team would see for months. Our ship slipped away after only a few days. I felt so thankful for the treasures of this most northerly part of New Zealand, which is about as pristine as it gets. It’s hard to pick one highlight, but I’d probably choose the time when a pod of dolphins surfed our bow wave on the way home. About twenty dolphins – including mothers with calves – were lined up just below us, squeaking to each other. One looked up, I looked down. We made eye contact. I felt deep awe, gratitude and connection with our Creator. I wonder what she was feeling?

ANGLICAN TAONGA

ANGLICAN TAONGA WINTER 2016

WINTER 2016

Sarah Wilcox is a freelance science writer and belongs to Wellington Cathedral of St Paul and Wellington Central Baptist Church.

Nanette wakes up to a new dawn and a new life in Waikawa Marina.

In dire straits Brian Thomas is baptised into the wondrous world of sailing, but emerges windburnt and shivering – and claiming he has glimpsed the mystery of Creation.

sarah@descipher.co.nz

Nanette is, to put it mildly, a beauty.

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rchangels are like archbishops. They dwell for the most part in a cloud of unknowing, beards become them, they keep dreadful hours and descend in a crisis. They also have the capacity to pull us back on to the straight and narrow, as I discovered after an engine failure in the teeth of a Cook Strait northerly. This story smacks of The Cruel Sea, and is nearly as edifying, so turn off the cellphone, dunk two teabags, and brace yourself for the drama. It begins with buying a boat in the North Island: a pretty ketch named Nanette with a heart of kauri and a pedigree nearly deserving of a Gold Card. She is not a fast lady, and her compass is stuck fast on the co-ordinates of my bank account. But Nanette is, to put it mildly, a beauty. Which is why I fell in love with her on the internet and vowed to make her life bliss in the Marlborough Sounds. The only obstacle was a stretch of water renowned for making seasoned sailors roll their eyes and gratefully accede to another

round: Cook Strait, where sea and ocean run hither and thither, exceeding our reach and upending our resolve. Not to be daunted, I prevailed on a Dutch friend, Geart, who has often sailed NZ waters – and together we breasted the Wellington heads at 6am, tacking as close to the prevailing northerly as Nanette could manage. As ill luck would have it, a 15-knot wind forecast quickly rose to 20 knots or more, and we wandered into the first of Cook’s notorious tidal rips. On the surface these are hardly menacing; just 100 metres of scruffy water amid the rolling main. But the chop masks deep trouble as opposing currents from two great oceans wrestle and claw for ascendancy. The ferries plough through them with hardly a tremor, but little ketches shudder and roll in the confused waters. Worse, Nanette’s draught is only 1.4m and her skirts trail in the water when she heels heavily. I’m not complaining: her sweeping lines are what drew my eye in the first place, but they do make the cockpit

occupants vulnerable to a maverick wave. Which is what happened to us in the middle of the first rip, soaking our backsides, drowning my cellphone, and upending my confidence. “A bit sloppy,” Geart said impassively. “Nothing to worry about?” The ghost of a smile crossed his face: “No. She’s good.” Indeed, Nanette was standing up and staying fairly true to course, sails whistling, wires strumming: a symphony of sailing. It was time to break out the chocolate and observe our near neighbours. The sea is not cruel, as implied by my opening. Discomfiting rather. And unforgiving of those who do not belong. A great mollymawk, rising and falling with the swell, regarded us with the disdain of a permanent resident. And large pods of dolphins revelled in the expanse, charging Nanette three abreast and fixing us with beaky grins. How beautiful they are in their own place. How sleek and nimble – and cheekily superior. They played beneath our bowsprit and ran rings round Nanette as though to mock our slow passage. Quicksilver amid the aqua-marine. “What draws them?” I mused. “Some say the shape of the boat or the thump of the engine,” Geart said. Or kindred spirits? Whatever, my heart warmed to the glory of their being and their willingness to pursue us across the evolutionary divide. A song of praise sings of “the dolphin Christ” – an image that sits well with Pleased to meet you: a dolphin flirts with Nanette mid-strait.

notions of Nature as benign and playful – but the theology falls short. Venture into the deep, and romantic perceptions of Nature soon turn to bilge water. For the sea takes no prisoners, and is no more comprehensible than the God who confronted hapless Job in the whirlwind: Have you entered the springs of the sea? Or have you walked in search of the depths? Have the gates of death been revealed to you? Or have you seen the doors of the shadow of death? Have you comprehended the breadth of the earth? Tell Me, if you know all this.1 I pondered this, and more, as we passed through the whirl of Cook Strait. And I wondered at our human arrogance in trying to re-order Creation, or in professing to know anything at all about the One who said simply: I am who I am. Live with it, I reckoned. Live with it and comprehend how very small we are in the scheme of things. Nanette by now was clawing along the top of Te Waipounamu, her two-cycle Italian diesel hammering like a pile-driver on speed. We probably should have tacked back into the strait, but with Tory Channel hovering off the bowsprit we seemed so close to our destination in the Sounds. Then the engine spluttered… revved… spluttered… and stopped. And nothing we tried could revive it. Our friendly dolphins had long since turned tail and run. We had no safe anchorage, the wind was freshening and the sky darkening. What to do? Catch the current and try to sail through

Cook Strait at a glance Cook Strait connects two mighty forces – the Tasman Sea and the South Pacific Ocean – making it one of the world’s most dangerous and unpredictable waterways. It is 22km wide at its narrowest point, and averages 128m deep. South of Cape Palliser, a mega-canyon plunges to 3000m. Local Ma-ori tell how Te Moana Raukawa (the strait) was discovered by Kupe the navigator, who followed a monstrous octopus called Te Wheke-aMuturangi across the strait, destroying it in Tory Channel (or at Pa-tea). A canoe crossing of the strait called for ritual to ensure survival. Those who had never crossed were blindfolded, while experienced voyagers acted as pilots. When the canoe approached the other side, the new travellers would take off their blindfolds and be carried ashore. If they waded on to the beach, it was believed a great storm would come up. During the 1820s Te Rauparaha led a migration to Te Moana Raukawa region and drank from its mana. When Dutch explorer Abel Tasman came to New Zealand in 1642, he thought the strait was a bight closed to the east, which he named Zeehaen after one of his ships. In 1769 James Cook recorded it as a navigable waterway, and his crew named it in his honour. Europeans settled on both sides of the strait in the 19th century to hunt migrating whales. Perano Head on Arapaoa Island was a major base for whaling from the late 1820s until the mid-1960s. Page 37

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Features

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Anglicans working to end cultures of violence

Sri Lankan sisters and friars pave the way out of war

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A safe place to be

Pitching in with Oji-Cree Aotearoa Anglicans commune with Canada’s First Nations

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Walking to Parihaka Andrew Judd's bicultural road to Damascus

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When God-talk doesn’t speak Bishop John Pritchard on connecting with a secular age

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Wally Stone met George in 1979. “If I was George,” he says, “I wouldn’t have invited me into his church. Let alone into his house. “He did that… he let people into his house that I wouldn’t let into my house. “I was an 18-year old ratbag,” says Wally. “An absolute ratbag.” “There were a lot of churches in Christchurch then whose attitude was: ‘It would be very helpful if you’d change yourself before you come along.’ “Whereas with George’s church it was: ‘Come as you are’”. If Wally’s story is anything to go by, that ‘come as you are’ formula was a recipe for

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The company of new believers at the Ehau’s place still had some rough edges. Rick Ehau remembers hearing about hecklers giving his dad borax as he preached – “and the elders took them outside and gave them a hiding, because that’s how they rolled. “I remember watching them play interchurch league games which ended up in a brawl cause that’s what was normal to them. “But I suppose the big thing about those days,” says Rick, “was that everybody actually cared enough to put their nose in everybody else’s business and see that they were OK. It wasn't just a Sunday thing. “Mum and dad’s house was always open, and full of people every night of the week. I’d wake up some mornings and there’d be a strange person in the bed next to mine. Whenever there was an issue, mum and dad would be there for people. It was all consuming.” At Christmas, George and Wyn would take their three kids camping in Kaikoura, where George loved diving for kai moana. They’d pitch their tents in some spot at the side of the road. But George and Wyn wouldn’t just take their kids. They’d take 30 or 40 people with them. All the while, George was making ends meet as a sparkie.

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Time for a snap with the locals: the Department of Conservation's live-in team.

Since the Netherlands legalised assisted suicide in 2002, planned deaths have more

Page 28

Where Christian work was concerned, though, George and Wyn hit the ground running. They helped plant a church in Bishopdale, calling it: Faith Family Fellowship. Then, when they bought a house in Wainoni they began a branch of Faith Family in their home. That took off, big time, and so they moved its meetings to the Aranui Community Centre. As George and Wyn’s son Rick tells it, Faith Family Aranui had an exclusive congregation. It was, he says, made up “of everybody that nobody else wanted.” In those 1970s pre-CYFS days, young offenders were trucked off to distant borstals, with all their ties to distant homes and whanau severed. Many of these rootless, isolated young men ended up on the streets of east Christchurch, and they were drawn to Faith Family like moths to a flame. There was another catchment, too. Ever since he’d been in Christchurch, George had visited the prisons. There were heaps of Maori men inside, and when they'd served their time, many made a beeline for Faith Family Fellowship. There they encountered love, in word and deed. They’d be fed spiritually, and literally. And often these guys would end up sleeping at George and Wyn’s place – in spare beds, the living room, caravans in the drive, or tents pitched out the back.

real change. Wally Stone abandoned his ratbag ways. He went on to help set up WhaleWatch Kaikoura, and now he’s one of the most respected figures in iwi development.

S P I R I T UA L I T Y & S E A FA R I N G

N

Switching off life support, or giving pain relief drugs may ease a patient towards their natural death, but that does not equal euthanasia. In these cases, medicine steps out of the way to allow a natural death to occur. So what are we talking about here? Three terms can help us better understand the debate:

over time.” Ian Thatcher believes the assisted-suicide debate gives rise to another pitfall. “I spent 16 years as a policeman and experienced people who attempted or committed suicide." “Do we want to send mixed messages about suicide prevention?” “…at a time when our suicide rate, especially amongst the young, is one of the highest in the world?” “We seem to be saying that committing suicide is bad, but if a doctor does it for you, that is OK.” Ian has also seen wonderful, healing moments in the last days of dying. Many of which, he believes, would have been robbed by an earlier death. Ian’s own father-in-law, for example, had his faith in God rekindled only days before he died after a long illness.

George Ehau in the Wai Ora Trust gardens in 2004. Photo by Bruce Connew, and reproduced with his kind permission.

He would shoot back to Ruatoria for holiday breaks, and for Wyn, the new George could be a bit disconcerting: “They would preach outside the pub. This was in a small town where you know everybody, and everybody knows you – and thinks you're crazy. I thought: ‘Oh no! What's happened to him?” But Wyn could see good things shining through in George’s life, and in 1966 she encountered the source of those good things herself. George finished his apprenticeship in 1969, and that’s when he and Wyn tied the knot, at a Baptist church in Birkdale. Soon after, Auckland’s electricians began a long strike. So George and Wyn headed down to Christchurch, where George’s brother lived.

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36 ANGLICAN TAONGA WINTER 2016

WINTER 2016

C R E AT I O N

EUTHANASIA

Though often used, ‘physician-assisted dying,’ is a vague, unhelpful term that could easily label any end-of-life medical care. One rallying pro-euthanasia call says if we disallow a planned ‘opt-out’ of life, that will leave terminal patients in unnecessary pain. But contrary to what we might expect, pain is seldom the main reason that patients choose early deaths. In 2014, after 17 years of assisted suicides in the US State of Oregon, its health researchers collated reasons people gave for wanting to die.3 Most wanted relief from: ‘loss of autonomy’ (91.4%), ‘inability to engage in activities making life enjoyable’ (86.7%), and ‘loss of dignity’ (71.4%), followed by ‘sense of being a burden to family, friends or caregivers’(40%). By contrast, inadequate pain control, or advance concerns about it, was cited by less than a third (31.4%). These findings underscore what hospice carers regularly report. Dying people need more than medical solutions. They need holistic care to lessen the physical and emotional perils they must face on the journey toward death. The Rev Ian Thatcher (66), vicar of Golden Bay parish in Takaka, offers a view from the inside. In September 2015, both Ian’s oncologist and neurologist diagnosed him with metastatic bone cancer, giving him 3 - 4 months to live. “Being told I would not last until Christmas could have made me feel “let’s end it now,” he says, "but if I had, I would have missed so much.” “If we respond emotionally to an initial diagnosis we might choose to end life, but we forget that circumstances can change

links and the Ngati Porou ties she shared with her tane, Wairemana ‘Bones’ Ehau. George, born in 1947, was the eldest of their five children. Wiki and Bones – who was a mechanic, and part-time barman – later moved their brood into a state house. But Bones died while George was still at Ngata Memorial College. Soon after that, George’s uncle Pita Awatere (of Maori Battalion fame) drove him to Auckland – and dropped him off outside the United Maori Mission Hostel in Gillies Ave, Newmarket. That was 1965. George qualified as a sparkie while staying there – and he also had an encounter with Jesus Christ that changed everything for him.

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ANGLICAN TAONGA WINTER 2016

WINTER 2016

eorge Ehau would say he’d married into money. He’d tell you that his sweetheart, Wyn Parker – they both grew up in Ruatoria – was from the right side of the tracks. Because her family owned a floor polisher. The Ehau whanau didn’t have one of those. In fact, they didn’t even have a floor. Not one you could polish, anyway. Not in George’s early days. He grew up in a tin shed with a dirt floor and his mum, Wikitoria, would cook over a kauta, or open fire. Wikitoria was a Te Whata, with Nga Puhi

*

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28

Lloyd Ashton has been learning about the life of a remarkable man.

“That’s where resurrection happens”

johnlpritchard@btinternet.com

Page 16 Page 10

ANGLICAN TAONGA

In March’s electoral college, he was the clear lay choice, and one clergy vote short of being nominated. But the process was deadlocked, and had to be adjourned. George was OK with that, – and willing to go again whenever a new college was convened.

But unfortunately, we're lost.

Shutterstock

08 Environment: Anglicans shift the goalposts on climate change

New Plymouth’s mayor, Andrew Judd, led a three-day Peace Walk from his city’s council chambers to Parihaka in June...

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In Francis’ footsteps

A parable of her talents Advancing God’s mission through women who lead

26

Maniava milestones We check back with Fiji’s cyclone hit Anglicans

28

A time to die Where will assisted suicide lead us?

36

In Dire Straits Brian Thomas meets an oceangoing angel

What you did for me... George Ehau’s legacy of welcoming the lost

Cover: Waiapu General Synod delegate, Sarah Crosse reads a lesson at Napier’s Cathedral of St John the Evangelist, during the Opening Eucharist of Te Hīnota Whānui 2016.

For the latest on the Anglican world, check out our website:

http://anglicantaonga.org.nz Page 3


ANGLICAN TAONGA

SPRING 2016

G E N E R A L S Y N O D – H Ī N OTA W H Ā N U I

In May 2016, the General Synod – Te Hīnota Whānui gathered in Napier to deliberate over this Church’s ministry and mission for the coming two years. We look briefly at synod decisions in this issue, while more detailed reports are online at: www.anglicantaonga.org.nz/News/General-Synod

Māori and Pākehā kindle new partnerships

M

a-ori and Pa-keha- relations have taken off with renewed vigour in the wake of this May’s two Tikanga General Conference, held on the eve of General Synod - Te Hi-nota Wha-nui. Conference facilitators Herewini Te Koha and Rosemary Dewerse moved hui amorangi and diocesan delegates into cross-Tikanga groups during the day-long General Conference, which many say generated new openness, and genuine sharing between Tikanga. Next, regional groups gathered to highlight meeting points where the two streams can support each other’s ministry. “As we talked face to face, I felt barriers that may have been there in the past were breaking away,” said Te Waipounamu delegate Susan Wallace, after the South

Island meeting. “On both sides, people were actively looking for what partnership means in practice, not just in theory.” Youth ministry emerged as a top priority across the Ha-hi, while several regions hope to build closer links across ministry training and social services. Some Ma-ori and Pa-kehabishoprics are now looking to form joint responses on housing affordability, child poverty and suicide. By July, renewed relations between Te Waipounamu and Christchurch bishoprics had begun to bear fruit, with Bishop Victoria Matthews and Bishop Te Kitohi Pikaahu jointly celebrating an ordination of Pa-keha- and Ma-ori candidates at the Transitional Cathedral. To keep bicultural partnerships moving

Susan Wallace (Te Waipounamu) reports for the South Island group, backed by Moka Ritchie (Christchurch).

forward, General Synod has reactivated the Treaty Church and Nation Commission working group to encourage new avenues for resource-sharing in mission. The working group will also promote this Church’s Treaty of Waitangi advocacy in church and nation.

Archbishops seek structures re: same-gender blessings

I

n May this year, the General Synod agreed to hold off a decision on samegender relationship blessings until 2018. Te H-i nota passed Motion 29, which let the ‘A Way Forward’ report lie on the table until

Bishop of Waiapu Andrew Hedge moves to let 'A Way Forward' lie on the table.

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General Synod 2018, “with a firm expectation that a decision to move forward will be made then.” Motion 29 also directed the archbishops to establish a working group with a tightlyfocussed mandate: “to consider possible structural arrangements within our ThreeTikanga Church, to safeguard both theological convictions concerning the blessing of same gender relationships.” During synod debates, Tikanga Ma-ori and Tikanga Pasifika had made it clear they were prepared to adopt the provisions in the ‘A Way Forward’ report; but Tikanga Pa-kehawas sharply divided. Tikanga Ma-ori and Tikanga Pasifika had then put forward the two-year grace period to seek structural arrangements acceptable to all. On 3 June this year, the archbishops outlined a process and timetable for the new

working group. Anglicans who would like to offer new structures for the group to consider, need to submit their proposals to the General Secretary by 1 October 2016. Working group members will be named in September, then have until the end of January 2017 to provide feedback to the wider church. At General Synod Standing Committee in Samoa this July, the archbishops consulted with Standing Committee over the working group’s terms of reference and priority skills for its members. The working group has been asked to finalise its proposal – or set of proposals – by July 1 next year. Proposed structures can be sent to: Michael Hughes, General Secretary of the Anglican Church in Aotearoa, New Zealand and Polynesia, PO Box 87188, Meadowbank, Auckland 1742, or by email: gensecm@ anglicanchurch.org.nz


ANGLICAN TAONGA

SPRING 2016

Making safer spaces for all

A

nglican churches in these islands have been called on to tune up our safe ministry practice, work harder to prevent violence, and more proactively support abuse victims. The 2016 Napier General Synod directed Anglican dioceses in Aotearoa, New Zealand and Polynesia to design and implement more wide-ranging safety policies in line with the Anglican Communion’s Safe Church Charter. Rev Jo Crosse (Waiapu) presented guidelines based on the charter, which calls for Anglicans to listen with patience and compassion to abuse survivors, stand up for their rights and needs, and take action to prevent abuse in communities. Adding to that call, Archdeacon Mere Wallace (Te Waipounamu) and Rev Jacynthia Murphy (Tai Tokerau) moved the ‘Violence Prevention is our Church’s Business’ motion (14), on behalf of the Council for Anglican Women’s Studies. The motion asks bishops to ensure ministry teams are trained to not only follow, but also promote this Church’s procedures to protect vulnerable people, especially children. Motion 14 also compels churches to become critics of abusive cultures beyond church walls, either as self-starters, or in partnership with organisations that promote non-violence and support victims. Anglican communities should also make plain this Church’s professional standards for clergy and church officers (Title D,

Canons 1 and 2), says the motion. Title D, canons 1 and 2 set out the best practice that ordained and lay office holders owe to their communities, such as: assurance of confidentiality, appropriate emotional detachment in pastoral relationships, and respectful, loving treatment of all: regardless of age, race, gender, creed or ability. The canons leave no doubt that a privileged pastoral position cannot be used to further a ‘personal relationship of an emotional or sexual nature,’ which the canons name ‘a serious abuse of power, and ‘a breach of duty’. Though police are likely to be involved in church-based complaints of a criminal nature, Title D also covers non-criminal offences where clergy or leaders fall short of its ‘exemplary’ standards. Churches and diocesan procedures must also consider the rights of complainants, communities and their leaders in dealing with allegations. This year’s safety motions passed as charitable societies begin reworking health and safety requirements to comply with The Health and Safety at Work Act 2015. The Act, which came into effect in April 2016, means charitable organisations with employees must have open, clearly defined workplace safety guidelines that both staff and volunteers understand and follow. More information on The Health and Safety at Work Act 2015 can be found at http://www.business.govt. nz/worksafe/information-guidance/legal-framework/ introduction-to-the-hsw-act-2015

Mere Wallace: "Anglicans can take the lead on preventing violence."

Condemning abuses in West Papua The Anglican Church in Aotearoa, New Zealand and Polynesia has denounced human rights abuses against indigenous people in West Papua. Meeting in Samoa this July, the General Synod Standing Committee (GSSC) agreed to a statement of ‘Solidarity with the people of West Papua,’ which condemns cases of illegal imprisonment and torture of West Papuans by the Indonesian government. Presented as Motion 28 during the Napier General Synod, the proposal to stand with West Papua’s abuse victims was moved by Fe’i Tevi (Polynesia) and seconded by Archbishop Winston Halapua. Standing Committee and the Church’s Social Justice Advisory group will now closely monitor the situation in West Papua, and keep its indigenous people’s rights in the spotlight for both this Church and the nations where we minister.

㼀㼔㼑㻌㻶㼛㼔㼍㼚㼚㼑㻌㻸㼛㼔㼟㼑㻌㻿㼏㼔㼛㼘㼍㼞㼟㼔㼕㼜㻌 ANGLICAN DIOCESE

㻭㼜㼜㼘㼕㼏㼍㼠㼕㼛㼚㼟㻌 㼍㼞㼑㻌 㼎㼑㼕㼚㼓㻌 㼍㼏㼏㼑㼜㼠㼑㼐㻌 㼒㼛㼞㻌 㼚㼑㼣㻌 㼟㼏㼔㼛㼘㼍㼞㼟㼔㼕㼜㼟㻌 㼠㼛㻌 㼎㼑㻌 㼍㼣㼍㼞㼐㼑㼐㻌 㼒㼛㼞㻌 㼠㼑㼞㼠㼕㼍㼞㼥㻌 㼟㼠㼡㼐㼥㻌 㼕㼚㻌 㼠㼔㼑㻌 㻞㻜㻝㻠㻌 㼥 The 㼛㼚㼣㼍㼞㼐㻚㻌㻌Johanne Lohse Scholarship

㼀㼔㼕㼟㻌 㼟㼏㼔㼛㼘㼍㼞㼟㼔㼕㼜㻌 㼕㼟㻌accepted 㼛㼜㼑㼚㻌 㼠㼛㻌for 㼐㼍㼡㼓㼔㼠㼑㼞㼟㻌 㼛㼒㻌 㼏㼡㼞㼞㼑㼚㼠㻌 㼠㼕㼙㼑㻌 㼛㼞㼐㼍㼕㼚㼑㼐㻌 㼛㼒㻌 㼠㼔㼑㻌 㻭㼚㼓㼘㼕㼏㼍㼚㻌 㻯㼔㼡㼞㼏㼔 Applications are being new scholarships to be㼒㼡㼘㼘㻌 awarded for tertiary㻹㼕㼚㼕㼟㼠㼑㼞㼟㻌 study in㻭㼛㼠㼑㼍㼞㼛㼍㻘㻌㻺㼑㼣㻌㼆㼑㼍㼘㼍㼚㼐㻌㼍㼚㼐㻌㻼㼛㼘㼥㼚㼑㼟㼕㼍㻌㼒㼛㼞㻌㼍㼟㼟㼕㼟㼠㼍㼚㼏㼑㻌㼣㼕㼠㼔㻌㼒㼕㼞㼟㼠㻌㼐㼑㼓㼞㼑㼑㻌㼠㼑㼞㼠㼕㼍㼞㼥㻌㼟㼠㼡㼐㼥㻚㻌㼀㼔㼑㻌㼍㼜㼜㼘㼕㼏㼍㼚㼠㼟㻌㼙㼡㼟㼠 the 2017 year onward.

㼍㼓㼑㼐㻌㼎㼑㼠㼣㼑㼑㼚㻌㻝㻣㻌㼍㼚㼐㻌㻞㻢㻌㼍㼚㼐㻌㼎㼑㻌㼍㼎㼘㼑㻌㼠㼛㻌㼜㼞㼛㼢㼕㼐㼑㻌㼑㼢㼕㼐㼑㼚㼏㼑㻌㼛㼒㻌㼎㼕㼞㼠㼔㻌㼍㼚㼐㻌㼎㼍㼜㼠㼕㼟㼙㻌㼍㼚㼐㻌㼔㼍㼢㼑㻌㼎㼑㼑㼚㻌㼞㼑㼟㼕㼐㼑㼚㼠㻌㼕㼚㻌 This scholarship is open to daughters of current fulltime ordained Ministers of the Anglican Church of 㻺㼑㼣㻌㼆㼑㼍㼘㼍㼚㼐㻌㻭㼚㼓㼘㼕㼏㼍㼚㻌㻯㼔㼡㼞㼏㼔㻌㼎㼛㼡㼚㼐㼍㼞㼕㼑㼟㻌㼒㼛㼞㻌㼍㼠㻌㼘㼑㼍㼟㼠㻌㻟㻌㼥㼑㼍㼞㼟㻌㼜㼞㼕㼛㼞㻚㻌 Aotearoa, New Zealand and Polynesia for assistance with first degree tertiary study. The applicants must be aged between㼍㼞㼑㻌㼡㼟㼡㼍㼘㼘㼥㻌 17 and 26 and be able to provide of㼍㼚㼐㻌 birth㼕㼟㻌㼏㼛㼚㼐㼕㼠㼕㼛㼚㼍㼘㻌 and baptism and have been 㼀㼔㼑㻌 㼟㼏㼔㼛㼘㼍㼞㼟㼔㼕㼜㼟㻌 㼍㼣㼍㼞㼐㼑㼐㻌 㼒㼛㼞㻌 㼡㼜㻌 㼠㼛㻌evidence 㻟㻌 㼥㼑㼍㼞㼟㻌 㼛㼚㻌㼟㼍㼠㼕㼟㼒㼍㼏㼠㼛㼞㼥㻌 㼜㼞㼛㼓㼞㼑㼟㼟㻌 㼕㼚㻌 resident in the New Zealand Anglican Church boundaries for at least 3 years prior. 㼍㼜㼜㼞㼛㼢㼑㼐㻌㼏㼛㼡㼞㼟㼑㻚㻌㻭㼜㼜㼘㼕㼏㼍㼠㼕㼛㼚㼟㻌㼛㼜㼑㼚㻌㼛㼚㻌㻝㻌㻭㼡㼓㼡㼟㼠㻌㼍㼚㼐㻌㼏㼘㼛㼟㼑㻌㼛㼚㻌㼠㼔㼑㻌㻟㻝㻌㻻㼏㼠㼛㼎㼑㼞㻌㻞㻜㻝㻟㻚㻌㼀㼔㼑㻌㼞㼑㼝㼡㼕㼞㼑㼐㻌㼍㼜㼜㼘㼕㼏㼍㼠

OF CHRISTCHURCH

㼒㼛㼞㼙㻌 㼏㼍㼚㻌 㼎㼑㻌are 㼛㼎㼠㼍㼕㼚㼑㼐㻌 㼎㼥㻌 㼐㼛㼣㼚㼘㼛㼍㼐㼕㼚㼓㻌 㼒㼞㼛㼙㻌 㼣㼣㼣㻚㻚㼍㼚㼓㼘㼕㼏㼍㼚㼘㼕㼒㼑㻚㼛㼞㼓㻚㼚㼦㻌 The scholarships usually awarded for up to 3 㼠㼔㼑㻌 years㼐㼛㼏㼡㼙㼑㼚㼠㼟㻌 and are conditional on satisfactory progress in 㼛㼞㻌 㼎㼥㻌 㼣㼞㼕㼠㼕㼚㼓㻌 㼠㼛 㼑㼙㼍㼕㼘㼕㼚㼓㻧㻌 the approved course. Applications open on 1 August and close on the 31 October 2016. The required application form can be obtained by downloading the documents from www.anglicanlife.org.nz or by 㻯㼔㼡㼞㼏㼔㻌㻼㼞㼛㼜㼑㼞㼠㼥㻌㼀㼞㼡㼟㼠㼑㼑㼟㻌㻭㼏㼏㼛㼡㼚㼠㼍㼚㼠㻌 writing to, or emailing the address below.

㻌 㻌 㻌 㻱㼙㼍㼕㼘㻦㻌㻌㼏㼜㼠㼍㼏㼏㼛㼡㼚㼠㼍㼚㼠㻬㼍㼚㼓㼘㼕㼏㼍㼚㼘㼕㼒㼑㻚㼛㼞㼓㻚㼚㼦㻌 㻼㻻㻌㻮㼛㼤㻌㻠㻠㻟㻤㻌 㻌 Church Property Trustees Finance㻯㼔㼞㼕㼟㼠㼏㼔㼡㼞㼏㼔㻘㻌㻤㻝㻠㻜 Manager | PO Box 4438, Christchurch 8140 | Email: cptfinancemanager@anglicanlife.org.nz

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ANGLICAN TAONGA

SPRING 2016

COMMUNION

Prayer-walking at Kingfisher Lake. Robert Kereopa is carrying the cross, and he's flanked by Bishops Ngarahu Katene and Mark MacDonald.

Strong medicine at

Mishamikoweesh

Kingfisher Lake is well off the beaten track. During winter, when temperatures in northern Ontario can plummet to 40 oC below, big rigs haul in supplies along ice roads that span 1000 lakes. During summer, the only way in is to fly.

For them, the scriptures are close, living and real.

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Kingfisher Lake is home to The Indigenous Spiritual Ministry of Mishamikoweesh, the Anglican Church of Canada’s first indigenous diocese, serving more than 25 First Nation communities in north-western Ontario and northern Manitoba. In July this year, Missions Board CEO Robert Kereopa and Bishop Ngarahu Katene were invited by the diocese’s first Bishop, Lydia Mamakwa, and by Mark MacDonald, Canada’s National Indigenous Anglican Bishop, to preach and teach at their summer school. Here’s Robert’s report of what that felt like:

P

rayer is constant. It is expected. Everyone asks for prayer. Even after we’d finished our two-week camp, the hunger for prayer remained constant: On our way out to the airport I’m asked to pray once again, this time for a volunteer at the Kingfisher Lake Mission House. And at the airport, my wife Rachel is asked for prayer by one of the women there to farewell us. The people of Canada’s first indigenous diocese are a spiritual people. Prayer is a reality for them. And they don’t treat the scriptures as far-away or metaphorical – for them, they are close, living and real. Which probably explains why prayer walks became such a part of our camp routine. Bishop Ngarahu Katene was kept busy blessing and cleansing during those walks and at the camp. If it moved, it got blessed. And if it didn’t move – well, it got blessed anyway: the school. The clinic. Roads. Especially corners where people have been killed. The council buildings. And the lake where the kids swim. Blessing and cleansing


ANGLICAN TAONGA

SPRING 2016

Lakeside lectern – Bishop Ngarahu preaching during the final Eucharist.

felt important to our hosts. Bishop Ngarahu and I were invited to Kingfisher Lake to teach at the Dr William Winter School of Ministry. Dr Winter was an Oji-Cree elder (and Bishop Lydia’s uncle) who had a vision many years ago of establishing a programme to train indigenous people for ministry. Twice a year – in summer and in winter – these two-week long camps train indigenous clergy and lay leaders. According to Bishop Mark MacDonald, they are the most successful indigenous ministry training events in his country. Henry McKay, the camp manager, reckons one of the secrets of their success is being 100 percent community funded. Families give sacrificially – and many here depend on social welfare, so they’re not flush – and volunteers drive cars and boats, cook, clean, carry, build and do whatever else it takes to make the camps a success. Bible study and reflection is the core of what happens. Practical ministry skills are included, and at this camp there was also lots of discussion about funeral ministry. We soon learn there has been a lot of family loss1 and heartache2 here. And the timetable was often put on pause as tears were shed and people reached out to pray for those who were hurting. We also learned that the people at Kingfisher Lake have many of the same issues facing Ma-ori back home.

Bruin visits the campsite.

God even blessed us by turning on the Northern Lights.

Top right: Robert and Bishop Ngarahu with their translator, Chalie Childforever, and Bishop Lydia Mamakwa. Above: The camp cooks operated from this tipi.

Preaching is an important part of the worship and the two visiting teachers got their fair share of that task. Everything we preached and taught was translated: OjiCree is the mother tongue at Kingfisher Lake, and many of the older ones don’t speak English at all. In fact, they don’t yet have a Bible in their language. They were using a Cree translation, and you could see them stumbling with that. The people in this new diocese need a Bible in their own language, and with the help of the Canadian Bible Society, they’ve just started a scripture translation project. At the final Eucharist, Ngarahu was asked to preach from a boat – just like Jesus did – on the shore of Beaver Lake, near where the summer school is held. The scene was one only God could deliver – a perfectly calm lake bathed in sunlight, the people listening intently, scattered around the shady areas. After the liturgical worship, the electric guitars came out. Just about everyone took a turn. Even the Kiwis took the mic – having sung earlier on the local radio station, too. Some people danced, and spontaneous shouts of “Praise God” and “Praise Jesus” punctuated our singing. I’m told these kicked-back free-form sessions are now a regular thing when indigenous peoples gather like this. They call it: Gospel Jam. We’re so glad we accepted Bishop Mark

and Bishop Lydia’s invitation to be at this camp. We’ve been blessed more than we could have hoped for. Every day the tables groaned with superb food, including moose, fish, berries and bannock bread. The wildlife astounded us, too – every day we’d see black bears, skunks, snakes, squirrels and eagles around the campsite. And then there was the Canadian wilderness scenery… On our last night, God even blessed us by turning on the Northern Lights, which is unusual for this time of year, they told us. Above all, we were blessed by the Kingfisher Lake community. They are so isolated, yet so strong. Everyone pitches in to help. They have great respect for their elders, and for the decisions they make that help them stay together. In terms of the structures and freedoms that indigenous Canadians have won in their church, some might say they are 30 years behind where we’ve got to in New Zealand. But in terms of their spiritual life, I think they might even be 30 years ahead… Rev Robert Kereopa is Chief Executive Officer of the Anglican Missions Board. robert@angmissions.org.nz Notes: search for 1. Guardian, June 19, 2015: 'Canadian aboriginal women four times more likely to be murdered, police say.' 2. Guardian, June 30, 2016: 'Mysterious deaths highlight troubling lengths First Nations youth must go for an education.'

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ENVIRONMENT

Archbishop Winston Halapua takes synod on a Pacific voyage to see the havoc caused by climate change.

Offsetting our carbon spend General Synod –Te Hīnota Whānui grappled with the challenge of climate change this May, and took steps to shape up our care for Creation.

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his year’s General Synod has set Pacific Anglicans on course to reduce our three-Tikanga ecological footprint by carbonoffsetting air miles. Carbon-offsetting emerged at synod 2014, when Provincial Anglican trusts

We can save God’s Creation, one latte at a time.

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were directed to shift away from fossil fuel investments. A clause added by Tikanga Polynesia requested that divested funds go into projects restoring damaged ecosystems, ‘in regions that are vulnerable to climate change and sea-level rise.’ Since then, a reinvestment working group has pored over eco-restoration ventures looking for any with strong returns. “It has been easy to find great projects,” Rod Oram reported in 2016, “such as regenerating native forest, planting trees to sequester carbon, or halting logging.” “But finding projects that offer returns for Anglican trusts has been harder.” “Projects would need to be very secure, marketable and financially viable for our trusts to consider investing,” he explained. Offsetting flights on the other hand, only requires us to calculate the carbon return. “We can work through Enviro-Mark, a subsidiary of Landcare Research, the Crown Research Institute, which guarantees forest regeneration projects that are measured and well-managed,” Rod told synod. “And it is not a large amount of money.” Enviro-Mark estimated the carbon footprint for travel to this May’s Hi-nota Wha-nui came down to $2.76 per flight. “That’s the cost of half a latte, or maybe two thirds,” said Rod.

“It is not a big amount, but this movement to combat climate change is about an infinite number of people making infinitessimally small gestures, all the time. “We can save God’s creation, at the equivalent cost of one latte at a time.” General Synod has directed its reinvestment working group (RWG) to bring back a viable programme for carbonoffsetting three-Tikanga travel by the 2018 General Synod. As Taonga went to print, the General Synod Office had already begun work on a carbon-offset template for all Provincial flights, in consultation with EnviroMark and RWG. Rod Oram puts the case for carbon offsetting church flights.


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Anglican schools to study climate change

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his July, General Synod Standing Committee (GSSC) handed a mandate to the Anglican Schools Office: to develop a climate change curriculum for all Anglican learners in this Province. The curriculum plan came to synod after Archbishop Winston Halapua’s charge, which led delegates into the Pacific Island story of climate change through a stirring audio-visual waka journey. Archbishop Winston reported that in some Pacific communities, sea-level rise already destroys or regularly inundates homes and crops, eroding ordinary people’s way of life. And across the Pacific, climate change rears up in furious storms, like the cyclones that recently lashed Fiji and Tonga.

Polynesia synod delegate Rosa Filoi, who moved the schools climate change curriculum motion, reads a lesson at the Hīnota Whānui Opening Eucharist.

“In the Diocese of Polynesia, we cannot ignore climate change. It is pressing down on our Church,” Archbishop Winston said, “but for some, it still feels like a distant problem.” Motion 27, moved by Rosa Filoi (Polynesia), aims to change that for

Anglicans. The Anglican Schools Office has been asked to prepare climate change teaching resources focused on stewardship of the earth and responses to climate change: for preschool to primary, high school to theological college students.

Pension Board shifts on fossil fuels

Pension Board General Manager Mark Wilcox checks in at General Synod 2016.

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eneral Manager of the Anglican Pension Board, Mark Wilcox reports that the Board and its Chief Investment Officer, Simon Brodie have worked hard ‘to take all reasonable steps’ away from fossil fuels, as instructed in 2014. Two years back, the Board undertook a careful ‘negative screening’ of its investment portfolios, and weeded out the ‘dirty’ fuel stocks – those containing the two worst offenders: coal and tar sand. “We see this as a first step.” says Mark. “The Board’s policy is about avoiding unnecessary exposure to fossil fuel stocks, full stop.” But the Board’s long term divestment strategy must also remain in line with its

fiduciary duty to members. “In the meantime, it’s been exciting to discover a way to rank our energy stocks on the basis of corporate responsibility.” Now the Board has taken on Oekom, a German research house, which has assessed its stocks across a range of ethical factors, including: greenhouse gas emission inventories, emission reduction targets, climate change risk and mitigation strategies. The Pension Board can now move away from poorly ranked stocks, toward more responsible companies. That in turn, penalises poor environmental and social performers, and encourages companies heading in the right direction. The fossil fuel refit has also heightened the Pension Board’s role as an ethical business advocate. While this Church’s funds are too small to lever change on their own, says Mark, if we join forces with large church funds overseas, we can deliver hard-hitting policy challenges to company boards. So our Pension Board is now well placed to petition companies over poor ethical practices, and co-file on advocacy campaigns. “They can target anything from executive

remuneration to a corporation’s climate change policy.” says Mark. “We have a much bigger impact if we line up behind others.” “We’ve had interest in our divestment policy from other provinces in the Anglican Communion too. So we’re becoming leaders in this.”

MISSION AVIATION FELLOWSHIP

MAF has an opportunity for a Personal Assistant in Arnhem Land, northern Australia for someone who is highly organised, proactive and great at planning and communications. We also have 6-12 month salaried overseas positions for people with strong financial, IT or management skills. Got a heart for mission? Email: omonk@maf.org

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PEOPLE

New Plymouth’s mayor, Andrew Judd, led a three-day Peace Walk from his city’s council chambers to Parihaka in June... And Lloyd Ashton has been learning where he’s really coming from.

Our most

inconvenient truth

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"Never in my life," he says, 'had I ever placed Maoridom and God together.'

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t the 2013 local body elections, Andrew Judd campaigned for the mayoralty of New Plymouth on the slogan: Let’s bring honesty back into local politics. He bolted in, too, with a majority of 9000. Andrew was thinking about his city’s finances when he coined that slogan. But God must have taken him at his word… Because he’s plumbed the depths of honesty and self-revelation since that election. He’s come to a place where he introduces himself in meetings as though he were on a 12-step programme: “I’m Andrew Judd. “And I’m a recovering racist.” In his time as mayor he’s gone from being

routinely enraged at the “special privilege” for Ma-ori… to leading a move to put a Ma-ori ward on the New Plymouth council – to seeing that ward pitched out, neck and crop, by a citizen’s referendum. Andrew’s moves on Ma-ori representation have proven so divisive that he’s decided he won’t stand again. Instead, he’s now searching for ways to “walk into a new conversation” – and on June 17 he led 500 people on to Parihaka Pa-, after a three-day “Peace Walk” from New Plymouth. So what’s that got to do with us? Well, Andrew Judd is a cradle Anglican. He was a choir boy and altar server at St Matthew’s Masterton – he was confirmed there too – and now goes to St Chad’s, West


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Andrew Judd leads 500 Peace Walkers on to Parihaka Pa. He's carrying Haruru ki Tawhiti - the drum which the people of Parihaka asked him to beat as he walked. They haven't handed that drum over before.

New Plymouth. But Andrew says his most profound spiritual experiences happened, not in church, nor in his quiet place, nor on a mountaintop – but on his first visit to a marae, in June 2014. As Mayor, he’d been invited to attend Sir Maui Pomare Day1 at Owae Marae in Waitara. It was a solemn event – they always recount the Parihaka story that day – and they sang waiata and said karakia. Those prayers and spiritual songs undid Andrew: “Never in my life,” he says, “had I ever placed Ma-oridom and God together. “I don't know why. I just never had. “Yet, here I was… feeling His presence, really.” Andrew says he could also see, etched in faces, the rawness of the losses Taranaki Ma-ori had endured2 because of their “rebellion” during the Land Wars. “These were consequences that I’d been blind to all my life, and had in fact made conscious efforts to distance myself from. “I couldn’t explain that. Because here I was, going to church, praying for the

Top: Twenty kilometres walked that day, 100m to go. The Bishop of Taranaki encourages Andrew Judd before they are called on to Parihaka Pa-. On the road again.

disadvantaged. I’d just been going through the motions.’ For Andrew, the impact went deeper still. Because in some mystical way he felt the people’s love for his once-rednecked soul: “It was as if I could feel them wrap around me. In fact, I felt more love and connection on that marae than I have in some churches.” *

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By the time he’d come to Owae, Andrew had already begun to change his attitudes. That process had begun a couple of months after he’d been sworn into office.

He’d driven to a protest in Waitara about the Pekapeka land block perpetual leases. “I heard complaints out there from some residents who were concerned that the iwi was getting back the land and ‘were going to kick us off’. “As I was driving back to my office, I was getting into my groove: “‘I'm sick of all this. When’s it going to end? Enough’s enough! I’m the mayor, and I will do something about this!’ “So I’m all raged-up, and I asked my staff: ‘Where are we at with this Te Atiawa settlement2? “They gave me the documentation. I opened it up on the page that starts with Te Atiawa’s account of its own history. Page 11


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Shutterstock

PEOPLE

Final leg of their journey. The Peace Walkers have just turned inland, off the highway, on to Parihaka Rd.

And I got captured by that history. “Of course I’d never heard of this place: Paki… Parihaka. What’s that about?’ “Then a few days later I was given this book: Ask That Mountain, by Dick Scott. “I’m brought to tears.” “Not so much by what was done – their land was taken, which was bad enough – but by how it was done… “I think that’s our country’s most inconvenient truth.” *

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“I used to ask myself: ‘Why do I get so angry when I see a Ma-ori flag? Why do I look away?’ “Because if what I was saying in my heart about Ma-ori – they’re useless etc

Pull quote wrong, 'Something's Andrew. Something's not right.'

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– was the truth, the truth shouldn’t be making me angry. “Yet I was angry. “I had a great comfort zone: if it ever came up, there was all the clichéd stuff you’d hear. “Most of the people in the room would have agreed with me. So I could feel safe. Justified in my thinking. “But it never felt right in my heart. “My emotions were rage, anger and fear, and deep down I knew: ‘Something’s wrong, Andrew. Something’s not right.’ ” *

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“I’ve shared my story in five different churches in town – Baptist, Anglican and New Life. “One of the things I notice is that people will go with you to a certain point, but the closer you get to the partnership question… the more likely they are to look away. “I start off by sharing how when I was driving back from Waitara and I had all these thoughts running through my head: ‘I'm sick of all this! We’re one now!’ “People are nodding, and then of course I say: ‘My name is Andrew Judd, and I’m a recovering racist.’ “And heads drop. Or people look at me stunned. “I cannot judge them. “They’re only reflecting the way I was myself.

Kuia at Pungarehu - the last stop before Parihaka.

“And I was raised by my country. Not just by my family – but by my country.” *

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“Why don’t we talk about our past? “Not to name, shame or blame – but to understand. Because if we don’t talk about these things, what’s to stop us repeating them? “I mean, we talk about what the Romans did to Jesus, don’t we? “There are lots of challenges for everybody in what happened here. “But it did happen. So why don’t we have those conversations? “Then I say to myself: ‘Well: why wasn’t my church around all of this? “A lot of Pakeha say: ‘Move on. Get over it.’ And I think: ‘Have you ever been to a marae? “Because if you have, you’ll know that the mamae – the pain and loss – it’s as though it happened yesterday. “And we harbor an attitude that keeps them there. Our attitude is like a justification of what happened. “That’s why I’m suggesting that we,


esence of the first woman ommunion, sitting there us, that we could be safely as we looked at her and eves

erosity – about sharing life sion. Sue Halapua

fice of Bishop? I believe it are the recipient of a gift would rather stop receiving

s in naming and shaming he interests and indeed the omen. Jenny Te Paa Daniel

evalent for powerful stories t questions of life, what are ich we have been entrusted?

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So: What reflections has Andrew had about the Peace Walk? “I’m not being flippant here… but I can’t find words to explain the feeling I had when we walked on to Parihaka. “If I say it was emotional, that doesn’t

of

5043

*

of the Ordination Essays to Mark the 25th Anniversary The Rt Rev’d Penelope Ann Bansall Jamieson

undant life for all – and as we ectedness, the “all” expands.

Right: Former MP Mahara Okeroa exchanges the breath of life with his kuia, Te Whero o te Rangi Bailey.

Pakeha New Zealand, need to look at ourselves. “The fundamental question we need to ask is: ‘Do we care? Do we actually care about Ma-ori?’ “And: ‘What is it that they’ve done so wrong, to deserve the attitude we give them?’

cut it. It was very spiritual. To have the kuia come out to meet me, wailing… that just broke me down. “And to think that with all of that history, they still welcomed us… what a resilient culture Ma-oridom is. *

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SPRING 2016

'What is it that they've done so wrong, to deserve the attitude we give to them?'

Above: Ruakere Hond leads a rolling haka at Parihaka.

Vashti’s Banquet Voices from her feast

ok out and engage with are situated. st as Bishop

ANGLICAN TAONGA

*

So where to for Andrew Judd now, to carry that Peace Walk momentum forward? “I’m not looking for anything. “I’m not after a job. I’m not chasing the chair, and I’m not chasing your vote. “For me, this transcends politics. “But I feel driven… I want Pakeha to

have a new conversation with ourselves. “Because to me we carry – and I don’t mean to offend – we carry the sin of what our ancestors did. “And we haven’t acknowledged that. “So how do I find a peaceful, respectful space to have that conversation? I don’t know. “But I do know that I want to be there.” 1. Maui Pomare had been at Parihaka as a five-year-old when the constabulary invaded. A policeman’s horse had trodden on his foot that day, and he’d had to have a toe removed. 2. Search for: Te Atiawa - Summary of Settlement

Essays to Mark the 25th Anniversary of the Ordination of the 1st Woman Diocesan Bishop in the Anglican Communion: The Rt Rev’d Dr Penelope Ann Bansall Jamieson Retail price NZ$25.00 plus postage and packaging of the Essays to Mark the 25th Anniversary Bishop Ordination of the 1st Woman Diocesan nion: Commu an in the Anglic Jamies on The Rt Rev’d Penelope Ann Bansall Fairbroth er Edited by: Jenny Chalmers and Erice

Order your copy now directly through the General Synod Office on +64 9 521-4439 or email gensec@anglicanchurch.org.nz Publication sponsored by the Council for Anglican Women's Studies, The Anglican Church in Aotearoa, New Zealand & Polynesia

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SPIRITUALITY

Tuning in to When Spanky Moore invited young adults to ditch their digital lives and go off the grid with God, he expected a faint-hearted response. But what happened was more like a silent revolution.

This sounds like the most terrifying thing I’ve ever heard of!

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Our first sixteen hardy souls line up outside the Church of the Holy Innocents, Mount Peel.

silence M

y mind was churning as I stared into my coffee at a local cafe. What could we do for young adults over the

summer break? In past years we’d put on camps and festivals. They were flashy events, with amazing guest speakers and plenty of time to flirt. But now I was stuck for ideas. Suddenly, a crazy notion popped into my head: a three-day silent retreat for brave young adults. No cell phones. No Facebook. No talking. At first, I’ll admit my expectations for Unplugged were low. I was a newbie to silence. When I’d dabbled at my ordination retreat, I’d found the first twenty-four hours among the most frustrating in my life. So I was mostly curious.

What happens if you take a handful of hyper-connected young adults and disconnect them? If they go cold turkey from technology and human conversation? Would they thrive? Or self-combust? Deep down, I expected three or four hardy souls to sign up. We’d enter into silent weeping and gnashing of teeth, then return home to share our battle scars with more cowardly friends. “Gather round children,” we’d tell our grandkids in years to come. “This one time, I went offline; for three, whole, days.” And they’d collectively gasp. So imagine my surprise when 35 young adults expressed interest. I never saw that coming. A three-day silence may not sound ‘out there’ and dangerous to you contemplative prayer warriors, but to a millennial generation, that’s grown up in a constant state of social


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Waiting on God.

interaction and connection (physically and virtually), the prospect of intentionally unplugging is no small matter. As one person’s email read, “This sounds like the most terrifying thing I’ve ever heard of! Sign me up!” We set off from Christchurch early one February morning heading toward Peel Forest, just out of Geraldine. Our destination was the Eco-Lodge, a secluded twenty-person log cabin surrounded by native bush. Access is via a short walking track, giving the lodge that “off the grid” feel, thanks also to its composting toilets, solar power and coal-range cooking facilities. Rather than leaving people to drown in silence, we guided them through, calling on the wisdom of US Quaker prayer guru, Richard Foster. Our days were shaped by three daily offices from A New Zealand Prayer Book, plus optional times of centring prayer, guided meditation, Lectio Divina and the Daily Examen. Come midday Sunday, we shared Eucharist at the much-loved Church of the Holy Innocents, Mount Peel, breaking silence at the peace. For most, this was a first introduction to contemplative prayer. And though we’d prepared for Anglicans, word had quickly spread to all corners of the Christian universe. Unplugged gave a taste of Anglican rhythms of prayer, a revelation that’s led some to join our episcopal tribe. “During the midnight healing and anointing service, I had an overwhelming experience of God's love; wrote Ian Blyth, originally from a Baptist background. “It was undeniable.” “Being told that you are God's, and the feeling of blessed oil on my forehead, is a moment I will never forget.”

Companions in silence.

Ian had been jaded with church institutions and doubted he would ever be back in a pew. “But the liturgy and offices of prayer took out the agendas,” he says, “And allowed my heart to participate, without feeling vulnerable to coercion.” Laura Harper, from a more Pentecostal persuasion, also found peace at the retreat. “God's presence filled the silence in a wonderful, delightful and sacred way,” she said. “It was a beautiful and life changing experience.” Since then, we’ve run three more, so round 70 Christchurch young adults have now Unplugged. Up north, the Rev Ian Cook, an Anglican priest and chaplain at Massey University in Wellington, has trialled a similar retreat. One motivation was his own eight days in silence at St Beuno's Ignatian Spirituality Centre in North Wales. But Ian had also sensed his flock’s need for stillness. “I’ve seen a prevalent university culture of busyness,” he says, “and whisperings about the need for mindfulness.” Ian finds retreats connect with nonChristians too, especially those suspicious of “church,” yet drawn to contemplative spirituality.

We call it the steel wool of the Holy Spirit.

It was only a Catholic friend who was nonplussed at my revelations over silence. “We Catholics call silence the ‘steel wool’ of the Holy Spirit,” he said, “Stay silent long enough, and God starts to chip away at all those hard-to-remove burnt bits. “Don’t you Protestants know that?” After years of assuming our Pentecostal brothers and sisters had the monopoly on loud, life-changing Holy Spirit experiences, I have quickly discovered a God that speaks profoundly – and transformatively amongst the stillness: in silence and solitude. Maybe we should challenge more young people to switch off the chat? And suggest they brave the silence every now and then? Rev Joshua (Spanky) Moore is University of Canterbury chaplain and works in young adult ministry for the Diocese of Christchurch. spankymoore@gmail.com

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MISSION

Our well-worn words that point to God no longer have an easy audience, says Bishop John Pritchard. What Christians need to look for now, he says, are different ways to lead hearts and minds toward the divine.

When God's

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t’s remarkable how quickly it’s happened. Thirty years ago you could have counted on a common understanding of at least some basic religious words and concepts.

There are divine finger-prints all over the universe.

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off the GPS Today, for most people under 35, traditional religious language has crumbled away. It’s not on the radar. It’s gone. In Aotearoa New Zealand, 48% of people are prepared to identify with the word Christian, 41.9% saying they have no religion. In 2006, the national census put the figure at 55.6%, down from 58.9% in 2001. In the UK, fewer than 50% of the population know what happened at Easter, or can recount the Christmas story, and 40% don’t even believe that Jesus was a historical figure. Christian belief seems to be falling off a cliff in some parts of the world – while it’s in rude good health and storming ahead in others. There are 70,000 more Christians in the world every day of the year apparently, by net growth. By the middle of the century the largest Christian population will be in China. But the West has a different story to tell. How then do we make contact with a

disbelieving generation? Clearly we need to start further back. Perhaps we need to start with ordinary human experiences that have within them the potential for a connection with the divine, the elusive ‘something more’ that humankind seems designed to seek. Perhaps we need to take the concept of incarnation deeply seriously and recognise that there are divine finger-prints all over the universe, and particularly in the everyday experience of women and men. Our task is to help people join up the dots.

Naming the gap Take the common human feeling of incompleteness, that, in the words of the U2 song, ‘I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.’ Sometimes it seems that two plus two equals three. Life is OK in an OK kind of way, wandering along in a safe, middling kind of register, but it feels as if there should be something else, some


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bigger story, some deeper satisfaction. What’s that all about?

Beyond the ‘me’ universe Perhaps, in a way, we’re no longer using maps for our exploration of life, but relying on GPS. This little hand-held device will tell us we’re the centre of the universe and it really doesn’t matter that we don’t know where we are, because our little helper will put us on the right track. So now we’re the centre of everything, the Big Me - but where that is in relation to anything else is unknown and irrelevant. Except, unfortunately, that we’re lost. Perhaps we won’t know where we are until we take responsibility for our location and make our own decisions. Perhaps we won’t know where we are until we look up from our GPS, our addiction to ourselves, and get to know a wider landscape and a larger world. Living alone in a friendless universe can leave us feeling disorientated and incomplete; acknowledging that incompleteness could be the start of a journey from the self to the soul, a journey towards faith.

But that’s just one common human experience. What about the wonder I experience on a mountain top in the Himalayas, or when I hold a scrunched up, freshly minted grandchild? Who put the wonder into wonderful?

Suffering which breaks open the concrete that material success has laid over our lives. The Search for meaning that rises for many in the second half of life. Transitions: those unexpected discoveries that often surround life events like birth, marriage or death.

Emerging out of chaos

No givens anymore

Or what about the universal experience of mess? ‘I wish I could start all over again’ we feel. ‘Nobody’s perfect, but I’m in deep xxxx’. Is that a starting point to think again about values, beliefs, how life can be good? “There’s a crack in everything,” sang Leonard Cohen, “That’s how the light gets in.” Between all the cracks in our lives, perhaps a green shoot can emerge.

Of course, none of these experiences guarantee engagement with the ‘something more’ of life. People may not find any resonance in these signals of transcendence. But at least they can provide a neutral starting point and the opportunity, perhaps, for Christians to give some account of how these experiences make sense to them. Two things are clear. First, the old language isn’t cutting it. And second, God has not retired. So, in a new cultural context we have the exciting task of refashioning our invitation to the spiritual journey. E.M Forster said it well: ‘Only connect.’

‘Wow,’ then what now?

Making connections Loads of human experiences can lead us Desire: What are we really reaching for, or is something reaching for us? The Arts: Those human creations which writer and broadcaster Bel Mooney says make agnostics like her ‘tiptoe towards the deity’ because ‘art has the power to make the universe shiver.’

Bishop John Pritchard retired as Bishop of Oxford in 2014 and now lives in North Yorkshire. johnlpritchard@btinternet.com

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TDway , Shutterstock.com

Our task is to help people join the dots...


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MISSION

George Ehau was a popular pick to become the next bishop of Te Waipounamu. In March’s electoral college, he was the clear lay choice, and one clergy vote short of being nominated. But the process was deadlocked, and had to be adjourned. George was OK with that, – and willing to go again whenever a new college was convened. But that was not to be. Just 11 days after that March event, George died. Lloyd Ashton has been learning about the life of a remarkable man.

“That’s where resurrection happens”

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With George’s church it was: ‘Come as you are’

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eorge Ehau would say he’d married into money. He’d tell you that his sweetheart, Wyn Parker – they both grew up in Ruatoria – was from the right side of the tracks. Because her family owned a floor polisher. The Ehau whanau didn’t have one of those. In fact, they didn’t even have a floor. Not one you could polish, anyway. Not in George’s early days. He grew up in a tin shed with a dirt floor and his mum, Wikitoria, would cook over a kauta, or open fire. Wikitoria was a Te Whata, with Nga Puhi

links and the Ngati Porou ties she shared with her tane, Wairemana ‘Bones’ Ehau. George, born in 1947, was the eldest of their five children. Wiki and Bones – who was a mechanic, and part-time barman – later moved their brood into a state house. But Bones died while George was still at Ngata Memorial College. Soon after that, George’s uncle Pita Awatere (of Maori Battalion fame) drove him to Auckland – and dropped him off outside the United Maori Mission Hostel in Gillies Ave, Newmarket. That was 1965. George qualified as a sparkie while staying there – and he also had an encounter with Jesus Christ that changed everything for him.


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Their move wasn’t entirely plain sailing. Prospective employers struggled with the notion that a Maori could be a registered electrician, and Mr and Mrs Ehau had no luck finding a place to rent... But George eventually found work, and when they searched using Wyn’s maiden name – Parker – they found a place, too. *

George Ehau in the Wai Ora Trust gardens in 2004. Photo by Bruce Connew, and reproduced with his kind permission.

He would shoot back to Ruatoria for holiday breaks, and for Wyn, the new George could be a bit disconcerting: “They would preach outside the pub. This was in a small town where you know everybody, and everybody knows you – and thinks you're crazy. I thought: ‘Oh no! What's happened to him?” But Wyn could see good things shining through in George’s life, and in 1966 she encountered the source of those good things herself. George finished his apprenticeship in 1969, and that’s when he and Wyn tied the knot, at a Baptist church in Birkdale. Soon after, Auckland’s electricians began a long strike. So George and Wyn headed down to Christchurch, where George’s brother lived.

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Where Christian work was concerned, though, George and Wyn hit the ground running. They helped plant a church in Bishopdale, calling it: Faith Family Fellowship. Then, when they bought a house in Wainoni they began a branch of Faith Family in their home. That took off, big time, and so they moved its meetings to the Aranui Community Centre. As George and Wyn’s son Rick tells it, Faith Family Aranui had an exclusive congregation. It was, he says, made up “of everybody that nobody else wanted.” In those 1970s pre-CYFS days, young offenders were trucked off to distant borstals, with all their ties to distant homes and whanau severed. Many of these rootless, isolated young men ended up on the streets of east Christchurch, and they were drawn to Faith Family like moths to a flame. There was another catchment, too. Ever since he’d been in Christchurch, George had visited the prisons. There were heaps of Maori men inside, and when they'd served their time, many made a beeline for Faith Family Fellowship. There they encountered love, in word and deed. They’d be fed spiritually, and literally. And often these guys would end up sleeping at George and Wyn’s place – in spare beds, the living room, caravans in the drive, or tents pitched out the back. *

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Wally Stone met George in 1979. “If I was George,” he says, “I wouldn’t have invited me into his church. Let alone into his house. “He did that… he let people into his house that I wouldn’t let into my house. “I was an 18-year old ratbag,” says Wally. “An absolute ratbag.” “There were a lot of churches in Christchurch then whose attitude was: ‘It would be very helpful if you’d change yourself before you come along.’ “Whereas with George’s church it was: ‘Come as you are’”. If Wally’s story is anything to go by, that ‘come as you are’ formula was a recipe for

SPRING 2016

real change. Wally Stone abandoned his ratbag ways. He went on to help set up WhaleWatch Kaikoura, and now he’s one of the most respected figures in iwi development. *

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The company of new believers at the Ehau’s place still had some rough edges. Rick Ehau remembers hearing about hecklers giving his dad borax as he preached – “and the elders took them outside and gave them a hiding, because that’s how they rolled. “I remember watching them play interchurch league games which ended up in a brawl cause that’s what was normal to them. “But I suppose the big thing about those days,” says Rick, “was that everybody actually cared enough to put their nose in everybody else’s business and see that they were OK. It wasn't just a Sunday thing. “Mum and dad’s house was always open, and full of people every night of the week. I’d wake up some mornings and there’d be a strange person in the bed next to mine. Whenever there was an issue, mum and dad would be there for people. It was all consuming.” At Christmas, George and Wyn would take their three kids camping in Kaikoura, where George loved diving for kai moana. They’d pitch their tents in some spot at the side of the road. But George and Wyn wouldn’t just take their kids. They’d take 30 or 40 people with them. All the while, George was making ends meet as a sparkie. *

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There was a problem, though, says Rick. Hardly any of the crew flooding into Faith Family Fellowship had jobs. What made that especially problematic was that a) unemployment was going through the roof in the late 1970s, and b) hardly any of those guys were employable anyway. In 1979-1980 a few people from Faith Family decided to do something about that. They formed a Christian work trust which they called Wai Ora, which means: ‘Living Waters’. The trust had no money – but a generous supporter loaned it the deposit for a prime 17-acre pastoral block in Watsons Rd, Harewood, near Christchurch airport. During the 1980s, up to 1000 unemployed people a year would find their feet out there. They planted market gardens. They helped run a nursery and a green grocery stall – and they got stuck into land and water restoration

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SPRING 2016

MISSION

Three generations of the Ehau whanau in the Wai Ora pumpkin patch. Left to right: George, Todd (in the red hoodie), Rick, Cindy, Timoti (batman logo) Jamie, Melody and Wyn. Pic: Rachel Vogan.

projects. Over 10 years, for example, they pruned thousands of trees along the banks of the Waimakariri River, then trucked the prunings to a Mairehau firewood mill, which the trust later bought. George’s friend and fellow trustee Rob Blakely – he was a young Pakeha water and soil engineer – managed the Wai Ora operation, Wyn covered the admin, and George had the pastoral role.

'Slowly, but surely, you could see the case-hardened shells start to crack.'

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He’d be out working in the gardens with the guys, so many of whom had come out of jail. *

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In the early 80s, Garry Moore – who went on to become the mayor of Christchurch – was a field worker for the Department of Internal Affairs. Wai Ora came on to his radar screen, and he liked what he saw: “A lot of the people they worked with were pretty hard to love,” says Garry. “And yet they loved them. I used to see people come in… they were cot cases when they arrived, and they walked out with their heads held high. “I think their work with prisoners was the bit that really inspired me. “When people leave prison they come pretty case-hardened. “And George would get them out in the paddock, planting – and he was always there with them. “He’d just talk to them. Talk to them about their lives in a non-judgemental way. “Slowly but surely, you could see the case-hardened shell start to crack. “And that was George Ehau.”

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In the 1990s things began to change at Wai Ora. With some help from benefactors, including Ngai Tahu, the trust bought a farm at Rakautara, near Kaikoura. The fourth National government embarked on a free market programme aimed at reducing state spending – and it pulled back on the work schemes it had been funding. Many work trusts went to the wall after that. Wai Ora didn’t, partly because of Rakautara, and because its nursery and landscaping work became a separate company, ‘Wai Ora Forest Landscapes’, which employs round 40 full-time staff (and dozens of casual workers) and pays a dividend to the trust. These days, the trust is under Rick’s management. It runs Christchurch’s largest community gardens, supports up to 500 people a year through its programmes, and is regearing for the future. *

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George stayed involved with Wai Ora till


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SPRING 2016

‘George: you need to tidy this up. It’s very messy.’ Rob Blakely found his way to Faith Family Aranui in 1979. “George didn’t pastor in a normal way. He kinda led from behind, and released people to do whatever they felt the Holy Spirit was leading them to do. “You can imagine: it was pretty chaotic at times. But on the other hand, a great sense of freedom came to a lot of people. “Various well-meaning folk would come through at various times and say: ‘George: you need to tidy this up. It’s very messy.’ And George would say: ‘How can I possibly do that? I don’t know what’s happening either.’ “It was a movement, really. A mini-revival. George and Wyn with their mokos at the Te Waipounamu graduation in January this year

he died - but through the 1990s, things had been changing for him, too He was deepening his understanding of the Treaty of Waitangi – which wasn’t always easy for him, or those around him. What’s more, says Wyn, one day while she and George were having a holiday in Kaikoura “the Lord told George to take the Treaty of Waitangi to churches. “He said that was the scariest thing God had asked him to do.” But as an act of obedience, George did put himself out there. When churches invited him to speak on the Treaty, he spoke. He spoke to pastors and ministers’ forums. On marae, too. And he became a cultural advisor to groups in Christchurch and round the country. *

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But some problems that churches encountered with Maori didn’t call for a nuanced understanding of the Treaty. He Waka Tapu founder Daryl Gregory – he was one of Wai Ora pioneers, too remembers the calls George would get from churches. “They’d say: ‘We’ve got these Maori people – and we don’t know what to do with them.’ “So George would say: ‘Have you asked them: Have they got a place to stay? And are they hungry?’ “And the pastor would say: ‘Well no… we haven’t’. “And George would say: ‘Well, start there.’ *

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George was startled when God told him to take the Treaty to the churches…

But that was nothing compared to the Lord’s beckoning back to the church of his birth. The dialogue in his head went like this: “They’re dead there, Lord. It’s a graveyard.” “That’s where resurrection happens”. “Well Lord, yes – but if that’s the case, you tell my wife.” George thought he’d served an ace with that one. But when Wyn said: “Dear: I think the Lord is saying for us to go back to our people” well, it was game, set and match to the Lord. So George and Wyn relinquished Faith Family leadership in 1996, and headed into the Pihopatanga. They expected nothing. But Bishop John Gray had other ideas, says Daryl Gregory. “John had told George: ‘We need to get a collar on you, so we can take you around teaching.’ So George became a kaikarakia, was deaconed in 1997, and in 2000 he was ordained an Anglican priest, and in 2016, his name went forward for bishop. “It really didn’t worry Dad whether he was elected,” says Rick. “He told mum: ‘It’s about being obedient. I’d hate to die not being obedient to God.’ ” But on March 31, just 11 days after the electoral college ended, he died, aged 69. His tangi was held at Te Ahi Kaa, the urban marae on the Wai Ora Trust property, and over three days thousands streamed through to pay their respects, with 800 at the funeral itself. George was laid to rest at The Avonhead Cemetery, just down the road from Wai Ora. He is survived by Wyn, their three children: Rick, Tania (Gilpin) and Daimen, and their nine moko.

“I’d been a hippy for a long time – that’s how we were branded, anyway. We were very much into family and community. Sharing what we had. “And George and Wyn epitomised family, whanau. They included everybody, and you were just taken for who you were. “And if there were any needs, they were shared.You didn’t go to a committee. We did everything together, shared everything. *

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George and Rob became founding trustees of Wai Ora, and Rob (who is a water and soil engineer) went on to manage Wai Ora for almost 20 years. He moved on in the late 1990s, and these days spends his time working with tribal people in Asia through his Earthcare Foundation: www.earthcarefoundation.net But Rob was in Christchurch for George’s tangi – and he’s been marvelling at George’s knack for communicating the gospel. He’d witnessed George doing that at Faith Family, and at Wai Ora: out in the gardens and in the smoko room. “He told the gospel in the most incredibly simple way,” says Rob. “He’d often draw on a whiteboard as he spoke – just a line drawing. He would put the scripture beside it. “He would speak out of the Bible, but he’d just let the Spirit do what he is meant to do. “The love of God was so tangible and real with George, that people just wanted that. And so they said ‘What must I do to be saved?’ – literally – so I can join this family? “All I can say is that I’ve never met a man who had such a depth of compassion and humility – and who cared for such a huge range of people. But especially for the people who had missed out on the fortunes of this world.”

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PEACEMAKING

At Our Lady of the Angels Friary, Colombo July 2016. Brother Chris (left) leads a workshop flanked by Br Bernard OFM, Br Lionel SSF and Catholic secular Franciscans from the Battaramulla fraternity.

Treading the path of peace Four years ago Brother Christopher John SSF began searching for Christian alternatives to rising religious violence. What he found didn’t make headlines, but uncovered a gentle, steady way to follow the path of peace. And he discovered how that walk had carried Sri Lanka’s Franciscans – and many they cared for – through a quarter-century of conflict.

Francis’ ‘failed’ conversion put friendship over force.

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very day media commentators cite religion as the root cause of yet another bloody conflict. And reporters choose to label armies or terrorist factions

by religion. We cannot deny the warrior tradition in most faiths, or claim that once fuelled by scriptural texts and charismatic leaders, it does not lead to ‘self-justified’ violence. But religious violence is far from the full story. Religious traditions have served countless times to inspire and uphold workers for peace. As a Franciscan friar in the Anglican Society of St Francis, and a Peace and Conflict Studies student at Otago, I have spent four years delving into Franciscan traditions looking for our particular strand of Christian peacemaking. Franciscans have an irenic reputation, but our friaries haven’t always been a box of birds. Even Francis himself struggled to manage his brothers’ bickering and division. But he also modelled a radical approach to conflict: one that transformed enemies, and made space for unlikely truce to emerge.

Legend tells how Francis reconciled Gubbio’s townsfolk with a murderous wolf, by seeking first to understand both sides’ needs and motivations, before taking action. The tale of Francis’ ‘failed’ mission to convert Sultan Malik-al-Kamil (during the fifth crusade) shows how he put friendship over force, and so transcended barriers of culture, religion and race. Today Franciscans are seldom at work in the corridors of power. Instead, they are likely to be found quietly building bridges, piecing together damaged or estranged communities. Franciscans continued on that path, right through Sri Lanka’s twenty-six year civil war, from 1983-2009. During those years, political and military rifts had pitted the majority Sinhalese people (mainly Buddhist) against the minority Tamils (mainly Hindu). As the war swelled to encompass great tracts of the country, several hundred Catholic Franciscans (both Sinhalese and Tamil) found themselves straddling cultural, ethnic and territorial divides. When killings and vicious reprisals against civilians dismantled trust between ethnic groups, Franciscans stepped forward


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as go-betweens, opening talks across the warring sides. Sisters and friars stood with the victims, offering counselling and social support in a ministry of presence, as well as providing medical care. At the same time, other Franciscans began paving the road to peace. Using international contacts, they channelled funds into grassroots livelihood projects for war-impoverished neighbours. And in the worst zones, where violence and impunity had become commonplace, they prepared fertile ground for future coexistence, through interfaith dialogue and sustainable agriculture. In these arduous conditions, with people under fire, how did Franciscan Christians anchor their peacemaking work? Not surprisingly, their first ally was faith. They called upon God in daily prayer and worship, digging deep into Christian wisdom. Some meditated long over Francis’ approach to conflict, and watched his wisdom enter their negotiations. And their confidence that faith leads to peace helped them to see good sense in others’ traditions. Many had also invested in ‘dialogue of life’ with Buddhist or Hindu peers, so when crisis hit, they could fall back on what they knew of each other. Not surprisingly, friaries and convents that handled conflicts well were powerful advocates for peace, but those struggling with niggles and resentments lacked resilience. Communities that had their own ‘house in order’ became living witnesses to inter-ethnic harmony, founded on love and forgiveness. What can we learn from these workers for peace? • To be called peacemakers we need not negotiate in public, or at the highest levels. • Peacemaking begins small: by helping quarrelling children to understand each other’s needs and frustrations, or defusing the power of a bully on a local committee, rather than going into battle against them.

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Stanley, a secular Franciscan, negotiates as Francis in a peacemaking role play. Safer streets these days than once were.

• A strong confident faith is generous enough to learn from others. • Being open to others’ viewpoints in peacetime, prepares for the creative leap of sympathy into their situation when things go wrong. • People engaged in conflict may appear powerful and domineering, but that often conceals hot air and puffed-up egos. • Once we understand others’ fears and insecurities, we can admit our own weaknesses, and refuse to be controlled by our fears. • The toughest places to practice peace are also the closest: in families and congregations. • Our Christian tradition offers peacemaking treasures if we search them out. • Building peace is proactive. Be prepared to look for peaceful solutions, rather than simply surviving a vestry meeting, parish AGM, or a visit to a difficult family member. No matter who or where we are, conflict is a certainty. It shows we are living and breathing, and that we care passionately. So the question is not whether we can avoid conflict, but how we deal with it when it happens. And only if we are active peacemakers in the daily conflict of ordinary lives, can we walk the talk when helping others. Br Christopher John SSF is Minister Provincial of the Province of the Divine Compassion of the First Order Anglican Franciscan Brothers based in: Aotearoa New Zealand, Australia, South Korea and Sri Lanka. christopherjohnssf@gmail.com

2. Masters, Christopher John, Instruments of Peace?” Franciscans as Peacemakers in Sri Lanka During and After the Civil War is available online at http://hdl.handle.net/10523/6521 3. Resources for preaching peace through the revised common lectionary: www.preachingpeace.org 4. Peaceful parenting: http://www.theparentingplace.com/

Sister Margaret’s imagination Sister Margaret is a Sinhalese Franciscan who, with her sisters, lived for a time in a Tamil refugee camp. They adopted the Tamil refugee women’s simple clothing and quietly worked among them. One day, soldiers threatened Sister Margaret with a gun. She met her assailants’ eyes and said, “I don’t mind the bullet. I’m working for Jesus.” Taken aback, the army officers lowered their guns. Still confused, they went on their way. On another occasion, a group of Hindu men in the camp invited Sr. Margaret to lead their daily meditation. “Sister,” they said, “We usually turn to the sun.” “Okay,” she said, “Turn to the sun.” “You know the sun is there, and the moon is there?” she said.

CHRISTIAN PEACEMAKING RESOURCES

“Now there is another power, behind the sun and the moon.

1. Lederach, John Paul. Reconcile: conflict transformation for ordinary Christians. Harrisonburg, Virginia: Herald Press, 2014.

“So that power, let’s ask that power to help us.”

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LEADERSHIP

Bishop Mary Gray Reeves, Dr Jenny Te Paa (conference chaplain), Dean Jo Kelly-Moore, Archdeacon Carole Hughes, Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori and Rev Numia Tomoana grab a picture at Leading Women 2016.

After almost forty years of ordaining women, most senior roles in our Church are still held by men.

In Napier this May, Te Hīnota Whānui acknowledged that even today, our church’s government falls on too many male shoulders. So synod 2016 took on a new goal: that every executive group overseeing this Province aims to comprise 50:50 women and men. In the wake of that new direction, three Kiwi women leaders – Archdeacon Carole Hughes, Rev Numia Tomoana and Dean Jo Kelly-Moore – set off for San Francisco, to review how Episcopal women approach the gender mismatch there.

If we fail to recognise and use women's strengths, we hasten church decline...

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That’s despite the fact that female clergy occupy up to 50% of chaplaincy and parish ministry positions in Aotearoa New Zealand. Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori: "be courageous, climb the mountain... tell the truth about what you see." Celebrating Eucharist in a 50-strong community of women priests.

A parable of her talents

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or some years, both the Church of England and Episcopal Church USA have recognized the shortfall of women amongst their churches’ highest serving personnel. So both churches have stepped up to support women: through mentoring, networking and leadership development, especially for those in ordained ministry. In the CofE, 'Leading Women’ seminars run at Sarum College, Salisbury each year, prepare female clergy for senior roles beyond the ‘stained glass ceiling.’ Three of us Kiwi women travelled to the US version of 'Leading Women' this June; an intensive three-day conference in Burlingame, near San Francisco. Our mission was to observe, take part and gather ideas for the Centre for Anglican Women’s Studies and the Diocese of Auckland’s newly minted women’s

leadership scheme. Keynote speaker Bishop Katharine Jefferts-Schori, former Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church USA began by bringing the 57 delegates back to the basics: how to lead like Christ. But first, she called on her listeners to stop and ask what it means to lead, when the boundaries of what constitutes ‘church’ are changing so rapidly. Bishop Katharine believes all leaders need a robust theology of oversight to scope the way ahead. “[You have to be] courageous, to climb the mountain, to see the lay of the land.” she said. “…and have the willingness to stand in the uncomfortable places, to tell the truth about what you see.” Her answer to managing the confusing landscape ahead was simple: Be like Jesus.


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“Like Jesus, leaders must go to where people are,” Bishop Katherine said, “but go in search of new leaders, and expecting to recruit others.” Good shepherds of the sheep will be “open to different ways of challenging others,” she said, “and will remember that creativity and vulnerability go together.” “They need to be open-minded, openhanded and open-hearted…” “…willing to listen and work collegially: to collaborate, delegate and empower others. “They must be self-starters who are prepared to listen and explore, as they build teams into an unknown future.” Bishop Katharine sketched out options for the path before us: from offering worship in non-traditional ways, to coffee shop ministries, being church in parks, soup kitchens to restaurants. She encouraged leaders to connect with people via unexpected routes: from cooking lessons to corporate chaplaincy. According to Bishop Katharine, there’s good news for women in all this. Many women’s strengths – such as being adaptive to different styles and contexts ̶ are skills the emerging church will need. Central California-based Bishop Mary Gray Reeves, who heads the Diocese of El Camino Real, agreed with Bishop Katherine, but warned that would-be women leaders have immediate hurdles to overcome. In the US for example, more women work in low-profile rural areas, are paid less, and make up only one third of Episcopal clergy. When elected as bishops, most women fill suffragan roles. As well as being offered lower Planning for the future: Women at the Diocese of Auckland's leadership development retreat in early 2016.

grade jobs, women frequently face ego challenges prompted by their gender. Other unwelcome judgements knock women’s appearance, their family choices or marital status. Women of colour, we heard, bear double gender and racial prejudice. While Episcopal clergywomen hold 20% of senior roles, only 4% of them are women of colour. It was sobering for us to learn that even mainly-coloured congregations are more likely to call a white male priest, than a woman priest of colour. Bringing insights from the UK, Professor Linda Woodfield of Lancaster University shared ideas from a book she recently co-authored with Rev Andrew Brown, ‘That was the Church that was – how the Church of England lost the English people.’ Prof Woodfield’s thesis proposes that when the CofE fails to recognize women’s gifts, or to use them well, it hastens its own decline. Finally, Episcopal women leaders related details of their work, pinpointing skills that candidates require before serving as: bishops, deans, canons to the ordinary (archdeacons) or cardinal rectors (large church leaders). The conference was a blessing for us as women priests. None of us had been in a space with so many female clergy before, where we could celebrate our unity in Christ across such diversity. The challenge going out is to stay focused on building women’s church leadership in these islands, keeping before the whole church the work we have to do.

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Be prepared to listen and explore... to build teams into an unknown future.

Rising to the task Back home in Aotearoa, it’s not only the church that struggles to make straight the path for women. In May this year, government researchers confirmed not one of New Zealand’s top fifty public companies can boast a female CEO. To support highly capable women’s entry to top positions, Carole Hughes and Jo Kelly-Moore piloted a women leaders’ development programme for the Diocese of Auckland this year. Alongside training in church governance and Christian leadership, the three live-in sessions will bring in women leaders from politics, education and the media, so the 12 clergy women trainees can get a heads-up on challenges they may face. The leadership training programme was inspired by the Reeves Foundation’s Leadership New Zealand - Pumanawa Kaiarahi o Aotearoa Programme, from which both Carole Hughes and Jo Kelly-Moore have graduated. “We hope this programme might be a model that can be adapted across our Province, in line with women’s regional and cultural needs.”

Very Rev Jo Kelly-Moore is Dean of the Cathedral of the Holy Trinity, Auckland, and Rev Numia Tomoana is Mission Enabler for Te Hui Amorangi o te Tairāwhiti.

The Ven Carole Hughes is Archdeacon of Auckland Central Region and Deputy Vicar General of Auckland.

deanjo@holy-trinity.org.nz, numia_5@hotmail.com

carole@auckanglican.org.nz

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MISSION

Build Back Better –

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a Maniava update

he mission to rebuild Maniava – the remote Anglican village wrecked by Cyclone Winston in February – is now a joint one. The church and state will work in partnership to get the job done.

We must Build Back Better... to save us the money and the misery that Winston has cost us.

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Each week, Suva-based church people make the three-hour trek to check in with Maniava. That's Archdeacon Sepiuta Hala'api'api (third from left) with a new cache of rice and flour.

Since the last issue of Taonga magazine, the Fijian Government has announced a FJ$70 million ‘Help for Homes’ package, which will benefit thousands of Fijians whose homes were either written off or sustained serious damage. Under that scheme, qualifying homeowners will be given a prepaid card – loaded with up to FJ$7000 – which they can redeem for building materials at selected building materials suppliers. There’s little doubt that the villagers of Maniava will qualify for that help – the epic winds that funnelled up their valley on the night of February 20 smashed 33 of the 37 homes in their koro to smithereens. So: on the one hand, the Fijian Government is providing funds to buy the building materials to allow homeowners to start again. On the other, it’s urging – and insisting where it can – that all replacement building conform to code. Here’s how Fijian Prime Minister Voreqe

Bainimarama expressed that when he launched Help for Homes1 in April: “My Government’s number one priority is to… ‘Build Back Better’ – better than before, stronger than before. Public infrastructure and housing (must be) built to proper standards to withstand future cyclones and to save us the money and the misery that Winston has cost us.” That post-cyclone urging of higher standards is where the church comes into play, says Archbishop Winston Halapua. The Diocese of Polynesia will use the money raised by the AMB’s Maniava appeal – NZ$93,000 at the time of writing – to hire the qualified carpenters needed to construct new homes in Maniava that meet Fiji’s building codes. The homes that these registered tradespeople build will be simple – but sound, strong and engineered to withstand the inevitable blasts of future cyclones. The diocese has already hired one


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qualified carpenter, and a civil engineer – and Archbishop Winston says they’ll be needing to hire four or five tradespeople in total. Those skilled workers will take charge of the rebuild. It’s not just a case of paying their wages for several weeks, either. Because Maniava is a six-hour return drive from Suva those carpenters and tradespeople will live in tents during the working week, and the Diocese of Polynesia will be responsible for feeding them. There is intense demand for building materials post Cyclone Winston, and transporting those materials to remote rebuilding sites is often a problem. So the diocese will also put its hand up to cover the costs of transporting materials.

Rebuilding schools Cyclone Winston destroyed or damaged 229 Fijian schools, and one of those casualties was the Tokaimalo District School, which is where most of Maniava’s school age kids go. The roof over the classroom was ripped off, and a dormitory built by the villagers to house their children during the school week was wrecked by Winston. Immediately after the cyclone The St John’s College Trust Board made a $200,000 grant to the Diocese of Polynesia to help with school repairs. The diocese has already drawn down Left to right: Dean Claude Fong Toy, Alfred Williams, Ulamila Fong Toy, Richard Sawrey, Ema Asioli, Archdeacon Henry Bull, Esita Vuki, Christine Archari, Rev Pita Unavalu, Miliana Fong, Rev Tuckwon Ah Kee, Taniah Ah Kee, Rev Leo Latianara.

some of that money to hire an engineer to draw up plans for a replacement dormitory, kitchen and ablution block. At the time of writing, those plans were waiting final sign off from a building inspector.

Food security In the days immediately after the cyclone, the first priority for the villagers at Maniava was to head out to their gardens to clear the damage and replant fast-yielding crops like sweet potato, which grows to maturity in three months. Claude Fong Toy, the Dean of Suva's Holy Trinity Cathedral, reports that the villagers have just harvested the first of their post-Winston sweet potato crops, and taken that to the Rakiraki market. Claude says folk from the diocese continue to go to Maniava from Suva each week, bringing food with them to supplement rations provided by the Government, and by the Red Cross. So what’s the timing of the Maniava rebuild? Archbishop Winston says that will depend on how quickly the diocese can get building materials on site, and how quickly it can recruit qualified tradespeople. He’s keen to make as much progress as possible before Christmas – because he’s conscious that December marks the start of the next hurricane season.

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he friendly folk at the base of this page are taking time out... from being equipped to minister to the hidden victims of Cyclone Winston. They’re taking part in a three-day trauma healing Richard Sawrey workshop that was run at St Luke’s, Suva Point, in May by Wellington clinical psychologist Richard Sawrey. Richard’s had plenty of experience in helping people get on their feet again after they’ve lived through disaster. In 2009, for example, he was part of a trauma-recovery team that worked in Samoa in the wake of the tsunami. He’s since reached out to survivors of conflict elsewhere in the Pacific, and he’s also thoroughly familiar with life in Fiji – his family lived in Suva in 2007 and 2008 while Richard was teaching pastoral counselling at the Pacific Theological College. Richard is a specialist in narrative therapy – and one of the skills he teaches is “double listening.” The idea here is that a listener with tuned ears will know how draw out threads of hope from a story of despair. They can weave those threads into a story of hope – and help people come to see that though devastation has happened, their dreams for life don’t have to die.

http://fijisun.com.fj/2016/04/09/prime-minister-voreqebainimaramas-speech-at-the-launch-of-help-for-homesinitiative-and-launch-of-adopt-a-school-website/

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Photographee.eu, Shutterstock.com

EUTHANASIA

A time to die

Legal therapies already exist to hold back pain and help people die with dignity.

As members of the InterChurch Bioethics Council, Graham O’Brien and Joy McIntosh have listened closely to recent debates as euthanasia advocates call for the ‘right to die.’ As scientists and Christians, they’d rather we took a step back to look at the big picture before rushing in with quick solutions.

If I had ended it then, I would have missed so much.

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ecent reports and media polls might suggest a global movement is hastening us toward legalising assisted suicide. In fact, the opposite is true. Campaigners have sought to legalise assisted suicide in 247 jurisdictions around the world, but have succeeded in only nine. In the USA alone, all but four of 175 attempts have failed.1

Over the last ten years, New Zealand has faced similar challenges,2 accompanied by public conversations that sometimes show scant understanding of what lies at the heart of this debate. To begin with, there’s the vital difference between active medical death and the many legal therapies that already help people to die with dignity, and with limited pain, yet as a result of their condition.


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Switching off life support, or giving pain relief drugs may ease a patient towards their natural death, but that does not equal euthanasia. In these cases, medicine steps out of the way to allow a natural death to occur. So what are we talking about here? Three terms can help us better understand the debate:

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1. Euthanasia is a deliberate intervention by a medical professional (or other person), intended to relieve distress by ending a person’s life. 2. Assisted suicide is when a person selfadministers a premature death with the active assistance of a third party. 3. Physician-assisted suicide is death caused by a self-administered lethal substance prescribed by a doctor. How will medicine change, if death becomes a treatment?

over time.” Ian Thatcher believes the assisted-suicide debate gives rise to another pitfall. “I spent 16 years as a policeman and experienced people who attempted or committed suicide." “Do we want to send mixed messages about suicide prevention?” “…at a time when our suicide rate, especially amongst the young, is one of the highest in the world?” “We seem to be saying that committing suicide is bad, but if a doctor does it for you, that is OK.” Ian has also seen wonderful, healing moments in the last days of dying. Many of which, he believes, would have been robbed by an earlier death. Ian’s own father-in-law, for example, had his faith in God rekindled only days before he died after a long illness.

Ethical slippery slope? Experts in ethics and biotechnology claim legalised suicide could pressure patients and families, in either real or perceived ways. Laws enacted to meet extreme cases may carry the unwanted side effect of compelling others onto the quickest route to death. One Kiwi who understands this situation is Andrea Saumolia (38), a Presbyterian mother of seven from Lower Hutt. Andrea was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2014 and is still undergoing treatment for secondary bone cancer. “With my own diagnosis, I was worried about being pressured, or my husband

Pain isn't why most people choose to die.

being pressured, in the name of not suffering.” she said. “But I believe we serve a God who at any moment can turn things around.” “Some seasons are harder work than others, and there is value and purpose in every season. “So to try and put a time limit on someone’s life is wrong.” Ian Thatcher questions the pain argument too. “As a society there is a drive to minimise pain, but suffering is not all bad…we are on our knees a bit more... and we can’t appreciate the good unless there is some bad.” “If you take assisted suicide as ‘longterm pain relief’ it’s irreversible – there is no turning back, no chance to change your mind.”

Who decides life is ‘unbearable’? Since the Netherlands legalised assisted suicide in 2002, planned deaths have more Page 29

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Though often used, ‘physician-assisted dying,’ is a vague, unhelpful term that could easily label any end-of-life medical care. One rallying pro-euthanasia call says if we disallow a planned ‘opt-out’ of life, that will leave terminal patients in unnecessary pain. But contrary to what we might expect, pain is seldom the main reason that patients choose early deaths. In 2014, after 17 years of assisted suicides in the US State of Oregon, its health researchers collated reasons people gave for wanting to die.3 Most wanted relief from: ‘loss of autonomy’ (91.4%), ‘inability to engage in activities making life enjoyable’ (86.7%), and ‘loss of dignity’ (71.4%), followed by ‘sense of being a burden to family, friends or caregivers’(40%). By contrast, inadequate pain control, or advance concerns about it, was cited by less than a third (31.4%). These findings underscore what hospice carers regularly report. Dying people need more than medical solutions. They need holistic care to lessen the physical and emotional perils they must face on the journey toward death. The Rev Ian Thatcher (66), vicar of Golden Bay parish in Takaka, offers a view from the inside. In September 2015, both Ian’s oncologist and neurologist diagnosed him with metastatic bone cancer, giving him 3 - 4 months to live. “Being told I would not last until Christmas could have made me feel “let’s end it now,” he says, "but if I had, I would have missed so much.” “If we respond emotionally to an initial diagnosis we might choose to end life, but we forget that circumstances can change


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SPRING 2016

Where does this put medical professionals? For doctors, nurses and other medical staff, the idea of euthanasia clashes with a calling to protect and maintain life. For the rest of us, if doctors were able to prescribe death, how might this change our assumptions about their care? The danger with assisted suicide then, is not where we start, but where that road will take us. These questions need to be asked at the beginning. Justice Collins noted this in his ruling on the “Seales vs Attorney General” case in

The danger lies in where that road will take us.

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Patients and their families need holistic help to face each peril.

2015, which rejected legal arguments for decriminalising physician-assisted suicide. In his affidavit to the case, Professor Rod MacLeod stated: “Physician assisted suicide and euthanasia would have far reaching implications that extend well beyond the immediate setting of individuals seeking assistance to end their own lives … The rights of those who wish to access physician assisted death services must be considered in light of the rights of many others who will be affected by the death requested.” 4

What is the loving choice? As Christians we are compelled to respond with compassion to others’ needs. But is the best way to end a person’s suffering, by ending their life? Would we be happy if this implied to sick, disabled or elderly people (some of the most vulnerable in our society) that they were better off dead? Or that we, as a society, were better off without them? We believe compassion demands another response. To be compassionate means to value every life: by listening, caring and alleviating fears. It means to offer the best of medical, social and spiritual support for the most dignified, pain-free road to death that we can manage. And the truth is, that job is already being done, wherever it can be, through the excellent palliative care of hospices. They deserve all the support we can give them, to help them continue doing what they do so well.

Rev Dr Graham O’Brien holds a PhD in cellular and molecular biology and a Masters in Theology. He lectures at Bishopdale Theological College and is Diocesan Ministry Education Coordinator for Nelson. ministryed@bishopdale.ac.nz Dr Joy McIntosh holds a PhD in cellular and molecular biology, and ministers in pastoral care at Knox St Columba Presbyterian church, Lower Hutt. jrjak.mcintosh@xtra.co.nz Notes 1. Personal Communication, Care Alliance www.carealliance.co.nz, http://www.patientsrightscouncil.org/site/failedattempts-usa/ 2. Notably the challenges to allow assisted suicide have seldom reflected Maori or Polynesian cultural perspectives, which tend to be more skeptical of the practice. 3. https://public.health.oregon.gov/ ProviderPartnerResources/EvaluationResearch/ DeathwithDignityAct/Documents/year17.pdf 4. Kheriaty Aaron, The dangerous contagious effect of assisted suicide laws, Washington Post, 20 November 2015. http://carealliance.org.nz/the-dangerouslycontagious-effect-of-assisted-suicide-laws/ 5. See http://carealliance.org.nz/wp-content/ uploads/2015/11/crown_rod_macleod.pdf, page 12, point 46. The InterChurch Bioethics Council (ICBC) represents Anglican, Methodist and Presbyterian churches. It works to increase the knowledge and understanding of church members and the wider community on spiritual, ethical and cultural issues relating to biotechnology, and enabling and encouraging citizens to take action on these issues. InterChurch Bioethics Council www.interchurchbioethics.org.nz Care Alliance www.carealliance.org.nz

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than doubled, reaching a total of 4188 planned deaths in 2014. Belgium signed on to euthanasia in 2003, and eleven years later, its parliament extended the practice to children. 'Right to die' criteria have also inched wider in the Netherlands. Dutch euthanasia cases in 2014 included 42 dementia sufferers and 13 patients with ‘severe psychiatric disorders,’ raising questions about how real their ‘choice’ could have been. These European examples show how safeguards and boundaries begin to shift as new social expectations settle in.

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EUTHANASIA


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SPRING 2016

CHILDREN Kia Kaha's Friends point to their drawings in the final creation.

Patricia Allan shares a children's artwork that tells the story of Easter, framed by two Christ Church cathedrals.

Circles that

meet at the cross

I

t takes a village to raise a child, they say. At Christ Church Cathedral it takes a congregation to raise our children with a strong sense of belonging to the body of Christ. Despite the earthquakes and their aftermath, children haven't stopped being part of our life. Boys sing in the choir, children assist in the liturgy and a core group of 3-11 year-olds worship here with their families. During the Sunday Eucharist, children in the nave jump into the day's gospel in a group called 'Kia Kaha’s Friends,'1 run by two of us older women priests, the Rev Hilary Barlow and myself. Early this year, we needed to find children's art ideas for Easter, so I headed for Christchurch Art Gallery, which had just reopened. There I came across Max Gimblett’s ‘Christ in Majesty - after Fra Angelico,’ a gold-leaf covered quatrefoil cross, which inspired me with its classic shape. Then cathedral regular and specialist art teacher Fiona Taylor picked up the idea, and the Cathedral's Easter quatrefoil took on a life of its own. Its four-leafed outline would neatly house

our chosen Easter scenes: Palm Sunday, the Last Supper, crucifixion and resurrection, and would echo shapes from the old cathedral. We built on those echoes, placing a tiny rose window where the quatrefoil circles met, which Bishop Victoria later dubbed ‘the icon of the icon.' Through Lent, Kia Kaha’s Friends illustrated the Holy Week and Easter stories. For the Last Supper, children drew either Jesus' first disciples or themselves, ready to dine with Jesus. Next Fiona copied and resized the originals, placing them around the table one child had drawn. One girl sketched her versions of Jesus’ borrowed donkey and Peter’s Good Friday rooster, while another pencilled a person with wide open arms and a huge smile that begged to be Jesus. Last came the resurrection signs: butterflies, fishes, angels, and fragments of rose window. Fiona included each child's effort, combining them into a beautiful design. Make no mistake, this was children’s art, but honoured in a remarkable manner. Looking for a frame, Fiona remembered the cardboard offcuts she'd been given as the new cathedral was built, which she'd put aside for a moment like this. Both the cardboard printing

Those wide open arms and huge smile begged to be Jesus.

plate and its print fit snugly into circles cut from the cathedral's cardboard beams. On Easter day, the artworks stood before the altar, testifying to children's roles at the heart of this community — and serving as a reminder to all that children can bring riches to God's house, as well as being beloved members of God's family. Rev Patricia Allan is an Anglican priest and member of the Transitional Cathedral congregation. She is studying for a PhD in anthropology: documenting and examining the controversy over the future of Christ Church Cathedral. She has become convinced of the potency of material objects in people’s faith journeys. pallan@cyberxpress.co.nz Fiona Taylor is an artist, and a teacher and visual art advisor at Heaton Intermediate School. While living in the UK, Fiona supported the children’s programme at Canterbury Cathedral. taylorf@heaton.school.nz Note 1. 'Kia Kaha's Friends' is named after the books by Clare Erasmus that tell stories about 'Kia Kaha, the Cathedral Mouse.'

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SPIRITUALITY

Adrienne Thompson gives thanks for Matariki, as she revels in God's handiwork through this festival at the bleakest time of the year.

When Matariki points

to heaven

I Could I find shelter in this tradition: as a guest?

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t’s a long, dreary walk through winter. Rain, wind, darkness and work, with not even a public holiday between Queen’s Birthday and Labour Weekend. In my Indian childhood, winters were long school holidays. In Bangladesh, winters were the pleasantest time of year. But winters in Wellington? Meh. Then once again, God sends a gentle, yet insistent invitation. ‘Learn to live here.’ Pay attention, be grateful, be prayerful. For the last few years, the dreariness of my winter has been illuminated by starlight.

The first I heard of Matariki was a bus shelter poster advertising an event at Te Papa. Intrigued, I discovered it had to do with the Ma-ori new year. But it meant little more than that, until one year our church, Stillwaters, took notice of Matariki by reading a passage from Job 31 on the day: Who is the mother of the ice? Who gives birth to the frost from the heavens? For the water turns to ice as hard as rock,and the surface of the water freezes. “Can you direct the movement of


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the stars― binding the cluster of Matariki, [the Pleiades] or loosening the cords of Tautoru?”[Orion] That started something for one Ma-ori friend. He’d never had a sense of his Ma-ori culture intersecting with Christian faith, and he was astounded to discover the ancient Hebrews observed the same constellations, and connected them with winter. The following year he shared with us all what Matariki meant to his tu- puna. How they observed the star-rise and watched for the new moon. How, like the ancient Israelites, they returned the first fruit to the land, and the first catch to the sea. How the storehouses were full with the kumara harvest, so it was a time of plenty and feasting: time to talk about the year past, to remember those who had died and passed the threshold of the stars. Listening to him, I felt drawn into these two traditions: both Hebrew and Ma-ori. Neither is mine by birth. But could I find shelter in them, as a guest? A year on, I was at the top of Mt Victoria in Wellington. In the freezing dark on the 21st of June — the darkest, longest night of the year — we were watching the sky, and listening to a Ma-ori astronomer chant the constellation names. And then he said in English: These are our stars! I had a spine-tingling moment of being included, of feeling my place here in this land of Aotearoa, here in this wide Pacific ocean, here under the southern hemisphere skies. We waited and shivered and watched

until, in the pre-dawn glow, we saw the sparkling cluster of Matariki above the horizon, and sensed the kinship of generations who have observed it over centuries. Matariki belongs to Ma-ori, and I am grateful they have generously shared it with the rest of us. As in any living culture, different iwi and leaders have varying opinions as to how this festival should be observed. But most agree on some core elements:

A time to feast, sing and tell stories It’s so good to gather with family and friends, light candles and eat well while the winter darkness broods outside. This year I celebrated Matariki with my Ma-ori language class, our Stillwaters community, my church and at several family dinners.

A time to remember and lament At home I display mementos and funeral service sheets to remember people who have recently died. In our community, we bring framed photographs of our dead into a church service during Matariki season. This year we gave each person a paper star to record the names of people they want to remember. Holding our stars, we said prayers for these loved ones and ourselves.

A time to look forward and back In ancient days, the tribal elders would assess the seasons past at Matariki, to

SPRING 2016

Now my winters are illuminated by starlight...

determine when the next planting should begin. It seems a fitting time to reflect on my own life, and my life in community. My church makes Matariki a season of review and planning. Now I am building my own Matariki traditions around the core of these older ones: • During June and July I bring out all my starry Christmas decorations • I relight my Advent candles, linking northern and southern hemisphere winter celebrations • I make gingerbread stars to share • I go to lectures or events that will increase my understanding of Ma-ori culture and lore “God alone stretched out the sky, stepped on the sea, and set the stars in place― Orion, the Pleiades and the stars in the southern sky.” (Job 9:9) Matariki reminds me to look up at those stars and give thanks to their Creator. Nga- mihinui, thank you so much, to those who have made room for me in this Aotearoa wha-nau, as we begin the year together in winter. Adrienne Thompson is a spiritual director and professional supervisor in Wellington. She is involved in the Stillwaters Community and Wellington Central Baptist Church. lekhika@paradise.net.nz

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C R E AT I O N

Kākāriki recolonised Raoul Island from offshore islands once pests were removed. Photo: Heritage Expeditions.

Finding God’s palette

in paradise

Sarah Wilcox visits the island of Raoul in the Kermadec Islands, an in-between place drenched in the abundant life of God’s creation.

Keep out of the way, let Creation do its own thing...

Walking through a forest of nikau palms towards Denham Bay. Photo: Sarah Wilcox

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winged petrels, recognise red-tailed tropic birds and distinguish masked boobies from their visiting red-footed cousins. High cliffs surround most of Raoul and hide its beating volcanic heart from view. Besides the pumice rocks and regular small earthquakes, it’s easy to forget that you’re walking on an active volcano. Here tragically in 2006, an eruption claimed the life of Mark Kearney, a Department of Conservation worker. The cliffs discouraged long-term settlement, but Raoul was a stopping off place for Polynesian voyagers and home to various keen pioneers. Most remarkable were the Bell family. Tom, its adventurous and dogmatic patriarch, dreamed of a life as King of the Kermadecs, farming this Pacific paradise to resupply passing ships with fresh fruits and meat. In 1878 with his wife Frederica and six young children, he left Samoa for Sunday Island (as Raoul was then known) to take possession of the uninhabited isle. The reality was not what Tom imagined. When the family opened the tins of flour they had purchased from the ship’s captain, they discovered that box after box was mouldy and inedible. So began their life of living off the land as Tom co-opted the elder girls Hettie and Bess (then aged only 11 and 9) to prise limpets off the rocks, catch wild goats and dig large gardens to plant kumara, taro and other vegetables. But hard unrelenting work and faith in God got them through, with Bible readings and an evening hymn marking the close of every day. Denham Bay, on the western side of Raoul, was the family’s first home. Large swells and dumping surf make landing here impossible most of the time, but in the right conditions, like we had, it’s a beautiful, benign beach. A few reminders of the Bells remain – the citrus trees they planted, a rusting mincer and a

candlenut tree that provided light for a while when lamp oil ran out. Those goats subsequently overran the island, eating almost everything they could reach, even walking the length of pohutukawa boughs to get to the outermost leaves. After the last goat was shot in 1984, and the rats and feral cats removed in 2003, the vegetation began to recover. A white-flowered hebe, found only on this island, reemerged when it was thought to be extinct. But so too did the weeds. Aroid lily, passionfruit, ageratum, Madeira vine and more nasties are gradually being brought under control by a team from DOC. Up to ten staff live on the island for months at a time, doing a great job despite the steep terrain and perfect growing conditions. But as any gardener knows, you can never let up. The weeding has been going for twenty years, and may take another thirty to complete. Passionfruit are being targeted at the moment, with teams combing the bush in a grid search to find and destroy all seedlings. We were probably the last visitors the Raoul team would see for months. Our ship slipped away after only a few days. I felt so thankful for the treasures of this most northerly part of New Zealand, which is about as pristine as it gets. It’s hard to pick one highlight, but I’d probably choose the time when a pod of dolphins surfed our bow wave on the way home. About twenty dolphins – including mothers with calves – were lined up just below us, squeaking to each other. One looked up, I looked down. We made eye contact. I felt deep awe, gratitude and connection with our Creator. I wonder what she was feeling? Sarah Wilcox is a freelance science writer and belongs to Wellington Cathedral of St Paul and Wellington Central Baptist Church. sarah@descipher.co.nz Further reading: The Crusoes of Sunday Island, by Elsie Morton.

Our Heritage Expeditions group join DOC rangers outside the Raoul Island hostel. Photo: Sarah Wilcox

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Photo: Sarah Wilcox

N

ikau palms tangle with pohutukawa branches on their way to the sun. At almost every step, tui and ka-ka-riki fly out from ferns and bracken below. These plants and birds feel familiar to me but not quite the same. I’m on a trip to explore Raoul Island – the largest in a group of islands lying 1000 kilometres north of Tauranga. It’s New Zealand with a subtropical twist. Raoul is the only habitable island in an arc of volcanoes that stretch from Ruapehu and Ngauruhoe through White Island northwards. Four other small islands break the surface but many more lie hidden in the depths of the Pacific Ocean. The islands are at the centre of the planned Kermadec Ocean Sanctuary, which from November will protect 620,000 square kilometres of ocean in New Zealand’s exclusive economic zone. It will be a big win for conservation. One that will ensure this unique seascape and astounding undersea volcanoes are protected from fishing, mining and other exploitation for generations to come. I believe that one of the best things we can do for the environment is leave it alone. National parks and wilderness areas have shown the value of this approach on land – marine reserves do the same in our oceans. Keep out of the way, let Creation do it’s own thing. The sanctuary will protect parts of the Kermadec trench, which at 10,000 metres is one of our planet’s deepest places. A few mysterious creatures have been discovered already, but many new curiosities await the next explorers. As our ship travelled north, the solid green and brown world slipped behind and we went on into the bluest of blue oceans. Seabirds, flying fish and flying squid flashed into view then away. I learned to look for feather details on tiny wings and admire God creating with a liquid medium. Pigmy sperm whales, false killer whales and several pods of dolphins joined us for a time. At Raoul we snorkelled with Galapagos sharks, which although harmless, got my heart racing when they glided alongside. Once I swam into a school of long silvery fish. When I looked back, they had formed a complete circle around me, as though I were a fellow fish. We saw blue maomao, spotted lionfish, kingfish, turtles and a large grouper – such an unusual mix of temperate and tropical species is typical of this area. Strange bird names took on real forms. I learned to identify Kermadec and black-

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SPRING 2016

S P I R I T UA L I T Y & S E A FA R I N G

Nanette wakes up to a new dawn and a new life in Waikawa Marina.

In dire straits Brian Thomas is baptised into the wondrous world of sailing, but emerges windburnt and shivering – and claiming he has glimpsed the mystery of Creation.

Nanette is, to put it mildly, a beauty.

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rchangels are like archbishops. They dwell for the most part in a cloud of unknowing, beards become them, they keep dreadful hours and descend in a crisis. They also have the capacity to pull us back on to the straight and narrow, as I discovered after an engine failure in the teeth of a Cook Strait northerly. This story smacks of The Cruel Sea, and is nearly as edifying, so turn off the cellphone, dunk two teabags, and brace yourself for the drama. It begins with buying a boat in the North Island: a pretty ketch named Nanette with a heart of kauri and a pedigree nearly deserving of a Gold Card. She is not a fast lady, and her compass is stuck fast on the co-ordinates of my bank account. But Nanette is, to put it mildly, a beauty. Which is why I fell in love with her on the internet and vowed to make her life bliss in the Marlborough Sounds. The only obstacle was a stretch of water renowned for making seasoned sailors roll their eyes and gratefully accede to another

round: Cook Strait, where sea and ocean run hither and thither, exceeding our reach and upending our resolve. Not to be daunted, I prevailed on a Dutch friend, Geart, who has often sailed NZ waters – and together we breasted the Wellington heads at 6am, tacking as close to the prevailing northerly as Nanette could manage. As ill luck would have it, a 15-knot wind forecast quickly rose to 20 knots or more, and we wandered into the first of Cook’s notorious tidal rips. On the surface these are hardly menacing; just 100 metres of scruffy water amid the rolling main. But the chop masks deep trouble as opposing currents from two great oceans wrestle and claw for ascendancy. The ferries plough through them with hardly a tremor, but little ketches shudder and roll in the confused waters. Worse, Nanette’s draught is only 1.4m and her skirts trail in the water when she heels heavily. I’m not complaining: her sweeping lines are what drew my eye in the first place, but they do make the cockpit


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occupants vulnerable to a maverick wave. Which is what happened to us in the middle of the first rip, soaking our backsides, drowning my cellphone, and upending my confidence. “A bit sloppy,” Geart said impassively. “Nothing to worry about?” The ghost of a smile crossed his face: “No. She’s good.” Indeed, Nanette was standing up and staying fairly true to course, sails whistling, wires strumming: a symphony of sailing. It was time to break out the chocolate and observe our near neighbours. The sea is not cruel, as implied by my opening. Discomfiting rather. And unforgiving of those who do not belong. A great mollymawk, rising and falling with the swell, regarded us with the disdain of a permanent resident. And large pods of dolphins revelled in the expanse, charging Nanette three abreast and fixing us with beaky grins. How beautiful they are in their own place. How sleek and nimble – and cheekily superior. They played beneath our bowsprit and ran rings round Nanette as though to mock our slow passage. Quicksilver amid the aqua-marine. “What draws them?” I mused. “Some say the shape of the boat or the thump of the engine,” Geart said. Or kindred spirits? Whatever, my heart warmed to the glory of their being and their willingness to pursue us across the evolutionary divide. A song of praise sings of “the dolphin Christ” – an image that sits well with Pleased to meet you: a dolphin flirts with Nanette mid-strait.

notions of Nature as benign and playful – but the theology falls short. Venture into the deep, and romantic perceptions of Nature soon turn to bilge water. For the sea takes no prisoners, and is no more comprehensible than the God who confronted hapless Job in the whirlwind: Have you entered the springs of the sea? Or have you walked in search of the depths? Have the gates of death been revealed to you? Or have you seen the doors of the shadow of death? Have you comprehended the breadth of the earth? Tell Me, if you know all this.1 I pondered this, and more, as we passed through the whirl of Cook Strait. And I wondered at our human arrogance in trying to re-order Creation, or in professing to know anything at all about the One who said simply: I am who I am. Live with it, I reckoned. Live with it and comprehend how very small we are in the scheme of things. Nanette by now was clawing along the top of Te Waipounamu, her two-cycle Italian diesel hammering like a pile-driver on speed. We probably should have tacked back into the strait, but with Tory Channel hovering off the bowsprit we seemed so close to our destination in the Sounds. Then the engine spluttered… revved… spluttered… and stopped. And nothing we tried could revive it. Our friendly dolphins had long since turned tail and run. We had no safe anchorage, the wind was freshening and the sky darkening. What to do? Catch the current and try to sail through The first mate back in safe haven.

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Cook Strait at a glance Cook Strait connects two mighty forces – the Tasman Sea and the South Pacific Ocean – making it one of the world’s most dangerous and unpredictable waterways. It is 22km wide at its narrowest point, and averages 128m deep. South of Cape Palliser, a mega-canyon plunges to 3000m. Local Ma-ori tell how Te Moana Raukawa (the strait) was discovered by Kupe the navigator, who followed a monstrous octopus called Te Wheke-aMuturangi across the strait, destroying it in Tory Channel (or at Pa-tea). A canoe crossing of the strait called for ritual to ensure survival. Those who had never crossed were blindfolded, while experienced voyagers acted as pilots. When the canoe approached the other side, the new travellers would take off their blindfolds and be carried ashore. If they waded on to the beach, it was believed a great storm would come up. During the 1820s Te Rauparaha led a migration to Te Moana Raukawa region and drank from its mana. When Dutch explorer Abel Tasman came to New Zealand in 1642, he thought the strait was a bight closed to the east, which he named Zeehaen after one of his ships. In 1769 James Cook recorded it as a navigable waterway, and his crew named it in his honour. Europeans settled on both sides of the strait in the 19th century to hunt migrating whales. Perano Head on Arapaoa Island was a major base for whaling from the late 1820s until the mid-1960s. Page 37


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S PP E IORPI T LU E A L I T Y & S E A FA R I N G

The tillerman: Geart in the wake of his Dutch forebear, Abel Tasman.

Our coastal lifeline

As many as 2300 volunteers spend over 315,000 hours on search and rescue, radio operations, training or maintenance each year. Individuals, corporate sponsors and trusts fund about 85 percent of the Coastguard operation, while the New Zealand government meets the remainder. The NZ Coastguard brought more than 7000 people home safely last year.

the channel entrance, said the voice of desperation. Foolhardy, countered the voice of caution. Well, desperation will drive even timid souls to extremes – which is how we came to be spinning in Tory’s dreadful gateway with not a puff of wind and an engine as dumb as a concrete mooring block. Between a rock and a hard place. The genoa flapped half-heartedly while the mizzen hung like a tapestry. We edged closer to a wall of rock, then the current

...romantic ideas of Nature soon turn to bilge water.

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Pretty as a picture… Nanette was built from a single kauri log in Northland and launched in 1957. Despite her delicate lines, she has sailed as far as Cairns and circumvented New Zealand. Her designer, L. Francis Herreshoff (1890-1972), was an American naval architect who built a worldwide reputation for designing racing and cruising yachts. The ubiquitous H28 is his greatest legacy: in his own words, “a boat that can quickly be gotten under way for a sail on a summer evening – a boat that could coast along in light breezes as well as stand up to everything.”

took hold and we meandered into the Sounds – and the ferry lane. “We need a tow,” I said. “It’ll be expensive,” said the Dutchman. “I don’t care. We need to get out of here.” So yes, we radioed the rescue centre, which pinpointed our position and immediately liaised with the Coastguard and the ferries. All so matter-of-factly, as though they had done it before. “Coastguard are on their way,” the operator radioed back. And despite my relief, now came the ignominy of rescue on my maiden voyage. The high-speed launch reached us just as night fell, then circled warily. Three young volunteers peered at us as though we were Exhibit A while an older, bearded man threw a line. “Steer her closely so she doesn’t swing,” he barked. And off we went. It’s a long, cold haul up Queen Charlotte Sound into Waikawa, and yet the bearded man stayed in the open stern and never took his eyes off the tow. In effect, he was watching over us. And it was then that the Coastguard took on a new light – as a visitation of angels, young and old, male and female, all prepared to forgo their night-time hijinks and race to our relief. Oddly, the bearded one – let’s call him the archangel – apologised when we finally tied up in Waikawa.

“Sorry but we’ll have to charge for the tow,” he said. “We asked the police to pay but they don’t cover engine breakdowns.” “That’s OK,” I said. “We’re just sorry to have bothered you.” The archangel’s demeanour softened. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve been in scrapes before. That’s boating.” That’s grace.

Epilogue All about us, 100 or more boats slumber at their moorings like residents in a seaside resthome. All have been crafted for voyage and adventure and yet – sadly – most hardly ever slip their moorings, let alone risk open seas. A parable for parishes perhaps. Day in, day out the vessels of Waikawa nod to the slow ding of guywires and the slap of the tide. Nanette may be a minnow compared to most, yet she assumes heroic proportions because she has at least tested her potential and diced with the strait giant. I stand on the jetty and wonder at the universal wisdom of the saying “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” And a hundred boats stir softly as the Spirit moves upon the water. Footnote: Nanette’s motor stopped because it was clogged with sludge from the diesel tank: another trap for unwitting boaties. 1. The Book of Job, 38:16

Andrey Yurlov, Shutterstock.com

The Royal NZ Coastguard dates back to 1898. It now has four regional teams based in Christchurch, Wanganui, Tauranga and Auckland.


ANGLICAN TAONGA

SPRING 2016

ANGLICAN SCHOOLS

When Peg Riley began as chaplain of St Margaret’s College in Christchurch 17 years ago, she dreamt of a worshipping community that lived and breathed a Christ-centred faith, shared through the students’ own words. Peg shares how they got there, and why she wouldn't want it any other way.

W

hen our St Margaret’s school community prays, our worship is full of the ideas, voices and musical tastes of a faithful group of students that help plan and deliver the liturgy. Chapel services gather 720 pupils aged 5 -18, some that will only hear the gospel of Christ at school. That’s why we keep the focus on Jesus: who he was and is today: his life, his deeds, and his invitation to relationship that might pique students’ curiosity, enticing them to explore more. Five years ago, in pre-earthquake times we began to encourage more girls to take on roles in chapel. But it wasn’t till disaster hit that the idea bore fruit. When St Margaret’s lost several buildings, including the chapel, the school quickly pitched a tent to hold onto its sacred space. But the tent was too damp to house anything, and a lot more girls needed to help. Everything had to be carried or moved in for each service: the Bible, the prayer books, the altar linen and even a piano. As we worked, I continually affirmed the students who did little bits: like readings, carrying the cross, or helping with offertory collections. And gradually, lots of students were willing to do those things. So I invited them to do slightly scarier and more creative things, like offering a dance, acting out a scene, or reading a prepared story of faith or courage they had written with my help. While students build confidence by taking part in chapel, sharing their faith also boosts the spiritual life of their peers.

A wider canvas of faith

Year 13 girls laugh with Peg as she blesses their leavers' time capsule.

Now chapel is a joint effort, with girls suggesting music, stories and responses to the readings. Today it feels strange to plan worship alone. So that only happens in times of crisis, to guide everyone through. There’s no compulsion to take up the faith at St Margaret’s, but we offer plenty of encouragement. Each year girls aged 16-18 publicly demonstrate their Christian faith in confirmation. And in 2015, three senior students committed their lives to Christ through full immersion baptism, celebrated in the school pool. These occasions are wonderful, but it is relationships that build faith, not only RE lessons, services or chapel roles. Students will grow in faith if we allow them space to express their questions, while letting them know we're there for them. We talk about the road to belief as a journey, not as an end in itself. And remember that doubt can be a marker of building resilience.

Sophie Cawood, head of chapel at St Margaret's, recently shared three life goals anchored in her Christian faith: working for what she is passionate about, making a positive difference in the world, and being surrounded by people to love. “…the belief I built for myself comes from the Anglican story.” she told her schoolmates. “[I came to believe] That there was a God who loved me no matter what I did, that no matter how awful things may get, he will always be wishing the best for me and offering me hope.” Head girl Aryn Azlan shared a different faith perspective at Pentecost this year, giving us an encouraging sign of the space for difference we offer in this faith-based school. “I am Muslim and proud,” Aryn declared in chapel, “And I have never felt more welcome than here at this Anglican school.” Rev Peg Riley is an Anglican priest and chaplain at St Margaret’s College in Christchurch. peg.r@stmargarets.school.nz

Children

– the heart of all we do. 10 Beatty Street, Otahuhu 1062 | p: 09 276 3729 | e: info@atwc.org.nz | www.atwc.org.nz Page 39


ANGLICAN TAONGA

SPRING 2016

BOOKS

Kiwi Anglican Warwick Brunton has helped a generation of Kiribati’s nurses to get the latest in nursing wisdom, despite the thousands of miles – and dollars – that might have stood in the way.

KIT Betio campus librarian Maata Rokete hauls in a stack of new volumes.

Kiwi books

to bolster Kiribati nursing

D

unedinite Warwick Brunton who now lives in South Tarawa, Kiribati has rallied New Zealand friends and colleagues to supply essential textbooks to the Kiribati Nursing School library in Bikenibeu. Warwick arrived in Kiribati with Volunteer Service Abroad in 2015, as an advisor to the English medium nursing school. Soon he heard that both staff and students were frustrated with their largely out of date nursing books. Nursing school librarian Retibati Natan confirmed the 105 students and 12 lecturers relied on library stocks that were mostly more than ten years old. So Warwick issued a challenge to his friends, colleagues and fellow Anglicans

Page 40

back home: especially at the Southern DHB, Otago University libraries, Otago Polytechnic School of Nursing and the Student Christian Movement of Otago Book Exchange. Dunedin people pulled out the stops and gathered 425 kilos of near-new nursing books including valuable new texts on health promotion and primary health care. But the books might have stayed piled in Kiwis’ hallways and spare rooms. But then Peter Kemp from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Trade stepped in. Not long back from the New Zealand High Commission in Kiribati, Peter found a way to get the books aboard an RNZAF flight bringing Ministers Murray McCully and Paula Bennett to Kiribati this June. “These new books will make such a

Second year students dive in to sort piles of recent titles. L-R: Teubaniman Akireo, Even Barekiau, Maatia Tiata and Lecturer Martha Beiataake .

difference,” said second-year student, Sister Teubaniman Akireol, leafing through a mental health textbook on arrival. She’s sure she’ll be back to consult the books plenty of times, even after graduation next year. Warwick Brunton hopes the ‘Text books for Kiribati’ project will now expand into other fields. “All specialized libraries in Kiribati face the same problem,” he says, “… including the theological college where my wife [the Rev] Shirley Brunton works.” The Brunton’s appeal for recent theological books and Bibles (in good condition) for Kiribati is still open. To find out more about sending Bibles or recent theological books to Kiribati, please contact: warwick.brunton@otago.ac.nz

Page 40


ANGLICAN TAONGA

SPRING 2016

BOOKS

Facing cancer with God SPIRITUALITY AND CANCER – CHRISTIAN ENCOUNTERS EDS. TIM MEADOWCROFT & CAROLYN BLYTH ACCENT PUBLICATIONS, AUCKLAND, 2015. WWW.ACCENTPUBLICATIONS.CO.NZ $30 JO FIELDING

T

his useful and thought provoking book explores differing spiritual perspectives on living and dying with cancer, backed by biomedical, scientific and theological insights. Contributors to the volume first presented these papers at a symposium co-hosted by Laidlaw College and the University of Auckland in 2014. While all are experts in related fields, some writers have also experienced cancer themselves or in their immediate families. The volume is divided into three sections covering responses to spirituality and cancer from personal, practical and public, theoretical and theological angles. All but one writer live in New Zealand, making this a welcome contribution from our local context in a field where most textbooks and professional guides originate from the UK or USA. Mark McConnell provides a clear

summary of theological responses to cancer and suffering, while other chapters offer fascinating insights from physics, public theology and the world of palliative care. A wide range of theological responses to life-threatening illness find voice here, ranging from Brian Brandon’s determined opposition to his “evil” cancer, to Nicola Hoggard Creegan’s thoughtful essay on “this wheat and tares world.” The book’s major constraint is its emphasis on Pakeha perspectives. Only one writer mentions the Te Whare Tapa Wha- model of Ma-ori healthcare, but omits to examine it in any detail. However there are many nuggets of wisdom, such as UK Baptist minister Catriona Gordon’s honest and courageous account of working as a pastor while undergoing treatment for breast cancer. “Using love as a guiding principle, I endeavoured to be truthful, recognizing that not every truth should be told,” she writes, with wisdom that holds true for many situations in ministry. A future volume might benefit from a section on hospital chaplaincy, which receives mention only in Richard Egan’s concluding summary.

Overall, this is a useful book to have at hand when offering Christian care for cancer sufferers. Jo Fielding is Priest in Charge of Otago Peninsula parish and a hospital chaplain in Dunedin. joanna.fielding@hotmail.com

Pearl of great price... But there’s no need to sell everything you own to buy it. Sign up as a Friend of Taonga and we’ll mail three issues of Anglican Taonga (Treasure) direct to your home – for just $20. We’ll even throw in a copy for a friend. Taonga covers the big issues of Anglicanism, fairly and honestly. And our writers include some of the sharpest, best-informed minds in the church. Keep up with what Anglicans are doing and saying. Join the Taonga team now by filling out the coupon and sending it to:

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Page 41


ANGLICAN TAONGA

SPRING 2016

FILM

Boy racers, babies and backstories John Bluck discovers a modern-day story of redemption in a new local film The Great Maiden’s Blush.

Y

ou can guess that anyone who names their movie after a fourteenth century rose and sets it in a post-natal ward is offering something different. Filling the film with not only mothers and babies, but boy racers, opera singers and Corrections Department officers is asking for trouble. Trouble is what this movie is all about. It spans the agonies of missing fathers, mothers who trust their cars before their families, unwanted children, abortion and adoption, careers that fail and end up in prison, all mixed in with a garnish of street mayhem and murder. And best of all, it studies a bicultural friendship, as two new mums bridge the alienation

It's easy to admire the sheer craft and skill...

Page 42

and anger to break the stereotypes that still separate us. Some of the same ingredients, played for laughs, have made Hunt for the Wilderpeople into New Zealand’s biggest box office hit. Blush raises little more than a wry smile, but it draws you deeper into the heart of contemporary Kiwi life than any of its competitors, with budgets a hundred times bigger. Made by Torchlight Films in Wellington, a very local, low key community media trust, this movie does for New Zealand life what film makers Mike Leigh and Ken Loach have done for the UK. Writers and directors Andrea Bosshard and Shane Loader tell stories about ordinary New Zealanders struggling to find their way through broken dreams and damaged families. While earlier generations of Kiwi films were labelled the ‘cinema of unease’, this new wave feels more like the ‘cinema of desolation’. It’s hard stuff to enjoy, but easy to admire the sheer craft and skill on display. The images produced by the old master cinematographer Alun Bollinger and Waka Attwell are stunning. So is the editing of this complex elliptical story by Annie Collins, who wove together the beautiful Gardening with Soul. What Blush aims to do, say its makers, is to show the redemptive power of truth. It’s what church goers look for each Sunday and hope to follow,

and we know how hard it is to make that search accessible and attractive. And even though this film will attract thousands more people than fill our pews, the search is no less demanding on the big screen, and requires no less skill or commitment. To make a good film that engages new comers and tells the truth is a massive achievement. Blush is a brave and gritty try. Flannery O’Connor once said, “You shall know the truth and the truth shall make you odd.” We shouldn’t be surprised then that this is an odd film. If you want to feel part of the Kiwi mainstream, watch an All Blacks' Test or go hunting for wilderpeople. But if you wonder what state we’re in as a nation, and you can cope with something disconcerting, go and see Blush. Bishop John Bluck is a writer living in Northland. blucksbooks@gmail.com The Great Maiden’s Blush comes out on DVD in September 2016, copies can be ordered from andreabosshard@paradise. net.nz


ANGLICAN TAONGA

SPRING 2016

F R O M T H E FA R S I D E

Simon Bratt, Shutterstock.com

Imogen de la Bere guides her Kiwi visitors into the vibrant colour and transcendent beauty waiting to be found in the Kentish countryside.

Dazzled by hues divine

O

ne of the fixtures in our calendar is the annual pilgrimage of Kiwis during the European summer. We love these visits, when we can catch up with the gossip and politics of home, sitting on the terrace of an evening, reminiscing into the darkness. During the day our guests take off energetically to those parts of London and the South East accessible by train. But at weekends, we take them on jaunts further afield. So it was that we recently drove visitors to Kent, to take in both All Saints’ Tudeley and Sissinghurst Castle Garden in a day. All Saints’ is unique because all its stained glass is by Marc Chagall. He was commissioned to make the big East window as a memorial, and on seeing it in place, exclaimed: “C’est magnifique! I shall do them all!” One can imagine the consternation of the good parishioners of Tudely, as they wondered what to do with their Victorian glass. No doubt more muttering ensued on seeing the finished result. Chagall’s idiosyncratic and abstract style is strongly evident throughout, with great swatches

of startling juxtaposed colour and strange, primitively drawn creatures. The windows take some time to have their effect. As the sun moves round the church, the colours change. Different shapes emerge in the glass, which illumine the stone around them in shifting patterns of colour. The effect is hypnotic, and profoundly spiritually moving. If one stayed all day – and assuming the sun shone – an endlessly renewing set of windows and patterns would slowly reveal itself. Half our party could not be torn from this creeping kaleidoscope of blessedness. The other half paced around the graveyard, eager to be off to Sissinghurst. Sissinghurst is one of the world’s most famous gardens. The visitor bursts into its spaces (called rooms), to be met by masses of colour, enclosed by brick walls. Everywhere you look is colour: red, orange and yellow in the Red Garden; white in the justly famous White Garden; purple, blue and pink in the Rose Garden; scarlet and cream against the walls, and deep greenery in the Nuttery…

The effect is hypnotic... and profoundly moving.

As you wander, the garden’s rooms look different from each angle. You crisscross and revisit them, as ever-varying vistas of colour and shape appear. If you haven’t visited either place, photographs may cause you to wonder what the fuss is about. Most places look better in photography than in life, but not the Chagall-windowed church or Sissinghurst Garden. You have to experience these places to get what they’re about. It’s like trying to explain God to someone who has never entered a holy space: in the world, the heart or the mind. Words fail us when we encounter true, deep beauty, sourced from Beauty Itself. Words fail, and photos fail. You have to go into a holy, beautiful place or space, then watch and wait, and watch and wait, for Beauty to be revealed. Imogen de la Bere is a writer and director living in England. delaberi@googlemail.com

Page 43


RESOURCING GOD'S PEOPLE IN MISSION & MINISTRY TODAY

CELEBRATING CREATIVITY, NURTURING CREATIVE PEOPLE LUKE - ILLUSTRATED GOSPEL PROJECT

Book & CD Over 2 years, more than 30 artists, writers and musicians worked with theologians and biblical scholars to produce this contextual resource. Focussing on 12 key passages from Luke’s Gospel, each section features fresh paraphrases of these well-worn stories, vibrant artworks, reflective and congregational songs, as well as poems and prayers to enrich personal and gathered worship. All birthed here in Aotearoa to give creative voice to the God who lives in our neighbourhood.

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BUILT FOR CHANGE

Book by Steve Taylor A practical theology of innovation and collaboration in leadership' explores the six strengths that innovation requires. It demonstrates that collaborative change is both practical and possible.

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Songbook & CD by Malcolm Gordon

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Most contemporary worship music is being written by big churches for big congregations, yet most people are in churches of fewer than a hundred people. These songs don’t need a band, they just need voices. With full accompaniment and in the right key for women and men to sing together, this resource meets a need for smaller faith communities around NZ. ‘I have been an amateur church musician myself for over 40 years and watched with some concern the growing sophistication of church music over that time… Your idea of music for small churches is inspired and I thank God for what you are doing in that field.’ - Peter Ballantyne of Lawrence. Featuring songs such as ‘Beneath the Southern Cross’ & ‘Christ before me’.

FOR ORDERS registrar@knoxcentre.ac.nz | 03 473 0783 *Includes Postage & Packaging


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