Anglican Taonga Advent 2016

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ADVENT 2016 // No.53

Taonga ANGLICAN

PEOPLE

Man for all seasons Walking the long road with Archbishop Brown Turei MISSION

Still more to do

Phil Clark’s faith holding steady under fire SOCIAL JUSTICE

You call that a fair go? How Kiwis stopped sharing our good fortune

COFFEE OR DEATH? : : CHRISTMAS IN SUMMER : : WHEN JESUS APPEARS : : SINGING TO GOD

A D V E N T

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ANGLICAN TAONGA

ADVENT 2016

PEOPLE

New Bishop

for ‘Team Waipounamu’

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he newly elected Bishop of Te Waipounamu is determined to be a team player when he steps into the role early next year. “I don’t need to do it all as bishop,” the Ven Richard Rangi Wallace told Anglican Taonga. “I have always encouraged others to take up ministry roles, and that will be a big part of my episcopal ministry. I will bring others forward, and send them to go and make disciples.

A big part of my ministry is bringing others forward.

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“Rather than be a ‘be all,’ I want to take a team approach to Te Waipounamu.” Richard Wallace, 72, was chosen by the diocesan electoral college in September to succeed the late Bishop John Gray, who served Te Waipounamu from 1996-2015. His ordination is set for Saturday, 21 January, at Onuku Marae, near Akaroa. Onuku is significant for the Bishopelect: he has ancestral connections there through his mother, and was baptised at the little Onuku church. He also took part in the marae buildings’ construction as a cultural and spiritual adviser to the carving team, assisted Archbishop Sir Paul Reeves in opening Puhirere, the first wharekai on the site, and led the Eucharist after the dawn ceremony for its wharenui opening. On Sunday, 22 January, the day after his ordination, he will be installed as the second Bishop of Te Waipounamu in a service at Te Waipounamu Diocesan Centre chapel in Phillipstown, Christchurch. This means he will assume spiritual responsibility for Ma-ori Anglicans from Picton to Bluff, as well as Rakiura and the Chatham Islands. He also will maintain pastoral ties with Ma-ori missions in

Australia. Formerly Ma-ori Missioner for Whakatu(in the Diocese of Nelson), Richard served as a minita-a-iwi and chaplain of Nelson Hospital, and in 1997 was appointed Canon of Te Waipounamu. He has strong connections with South Island iwi, not only through his whakapapa but as head of a Nga-i Tahu governance board in South Westland, where he is Upoko o Te Ru-nanga o Makaawhio. He has also served Maori communities as an Apiha-a-iwi cultural development officer for the Ministry of Ma-ori Affairs. He also worked in social services, particularly in matua whangai (child and family services). Richard brings years of experience in youth and ministry education, ranging from overseeing apprenticeships to tutoring in ministry, chaplaincy and social work, and teaching iwi development. This emphasis on youth will carry over into his new role as bishop. He has a firm commitment to identify, lift up and mentor a new generation of young people into diocesan leadership.


ANGLICAN TAONGA

ADVENT 2016

Anglican Taonga REGULAR 06 Mission: Robert Kereopa sounds the mission bugle

Contents 16

22 ANGLICAN TAONGA

36 Spirituality: Adrienne Thompson welcomes Christ in summer

MYTHOLOGY

and if anyone had offered me a quick escape, I would probably have taken it. As a Christian, you know that what’s coming is so much better. “So why on earth would I cling to this horrible existence?”

In January this year, Phil Clark, the National Director of the Church Army, had his own D Day. Eleven months on from that, Lloyd Ashton began talking with him – and learning what victorious living looks like.

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Onwards,

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Cope? Survive? Walk away? Let’s back up the truck. And reverse to April 23, 2015. That was the day when Phil “went from 5th gear to reverse. With no gear changes in between.” Having enjoyed rude good health all his life, Phil was diagnosed that day as having

inoperable and terminal oesophageal cancer. Without treatment, he would die within three months. With aggressive chemotherapy and radiotherapy, he was told he would have six months. Nine months max. January 23, 2016, therefore – in Phil’s reckoning, that was D Day. Statistically speaking, he was unlucky. He didn’t smoke. Didn’t drink. There was no history of cancer in his family. He was just 53, and oesophageal cancer typically afflicts older people. “Very quickly,” he explains, “I was swept up in this process. I was going for radiotherapy every day – and the Cancer Society, the hospice, community nurses, the dietician… all these people were turning up at our home. “I didn’t actually know why half of them were there.” “I was totally stunned. I’m an introvert, and I process things internally. “But how do you process this?” *

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In December 2014 Phil began to have

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Church Army National Director Phil Clark at his Auckland home....

difficulty swallowing. He was often on the road, staying in people’s homes – and meal times had become an embarrassment for him. He went to his GP, who suggested Phil needed lubrication. He prescribed tablets and a throat spray. That didn’t help. Over the first three months of 2015, Phil lost a third of his body weight. That’s when his GP sent him for a gastroscopy – and it was those scan results which crashed like a wrecking ball into his Papatoetoe lounge. His food wouldn’t go down because a large tumour was blocking his oesophagus. That tumour had seeded others. He was, as they say, riddled with cancer. Immediately the specialists said: "Don’t bother eating" – and Phil was fitted with a nasal feeding tube. His first brew of chemo almost killed him, and took him to the verge of kidney failure. During July and August, his speech was slurred, he had appalling diarrhoea, he couldn’t walk – and at his most wretched, Phil slept 23 hours a day. “The euthanasia debate was raging then:

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Lord?

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December half-marathon or not, Phil’s doctors would not revise his prognosis. So January 23: that was still D Day. That looming deadline translated into a short-term approach to his care. For example: while he was playing family cricket last Christmas, Phil dived, Brendon McCullum style, to make a catch. He fell on his arm. Broke it, in fact. But there was to be no plaster cast. The doctors told him: “You won’t want to spend your last weeks in discomfort.” To which Phil adds his droll Yorkshire commentary: “And shutting the coffin lid may be difficult.” Sometimes, the doctors’ concern has felt downright life-denying. In February this year, for instance, Phil and Monika went to Melbourne for a church planting conference. “They said: ‘We recommend you don’t go.’ “Then in May, we went to Thailand for another conference. And they said: ‘We

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Make no mistake: Phil knows he owes his extended life to the oncological team. He’s equally sure that he’s being sustained “by the prayers of countless people around the world, faithfully filling up God’s inbox… “Some have said: ‘We really believe that you’re not going to die by January. ‘Don’t accept that. Reject it. It’s not from God. God says you’ve got life for longer than that.’ “I’m not someone who hears God clearly, very often. And because I wasn’t hearing that for myself… I thought: ‘Who are you to say these things? You’re not dying!’ “But looking back… I’m so grateful for those people. “I don’t want to get super spiritual. But

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ou probably know the story. The theology lecturer issues an exam in her students’ final week at college. When they arrive at the exam, a note in the tutor’s hand directs them to a new venue – at the opposite end of college. Late and flustered by now, they rush across the campus. On the way, a dishevelled homeless man wanders into their path, asking for help. But with their exam to catch, the students hurry by. Once they are seated in the exam, the homeless man appears again, at the door. This time, he throws off his old coat to reveal his true identity – as principal of the college. The students have failed the real exam, of course. Not one of them stopped to listen, or to care for the stranger.

when an oncologist says: ‘You’re dying’ – then you start dying. Because that’s what you do as a patient: you follow instructions. “We know from what God says in the Bible. You speak things into people’s lives – and it was almost if a curse had been pronounced.” *

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Ten months after his D-Day, Phil finds himself in limbo. “There was a time,” he says, “when I was living a day at a time. My prayer was: ‘God: give me the strength for today.’ “That was right back then. But I reached a phase when I needed to live longer-term than that. “So, for example, when I bought my 2016 diary… that was a massive thing. “I can’t now live as though I’ve got two months left – and I can’t live as though I’ve got 10 years left." Phil is no longer on the Church Army payroll. He cashed in his CofE pension 12 months ago – “death is imminent” his GP wrote – and is now delighted to contribute freely to the Church Army. They’ve stood four-square with him, and he wants to give back. Nowadays, Monika is the family breadwinner. She works as the Church Army’s National Programme Co-ordinator, and as the Head of Mission and Outreach at St George’s Papatoetoe.

Either way, one thing is certain, says Max, all these stories share the classic marks of myth. But what happens when some myths turn out to be true?

You don't know who you might be dealing with.

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Now, it's most likely this never happened. But like any myth, this story will emerge in different times and places, changing slightly as it goes. In another version, the minister arrives at a new church on the first Sunday of his stint. But instead of heading to the altar, he slips in at the back wrapped in a dirty old blanket – only to be ignored by his parishioners eagerly awaiting his arrival. Eventually, the new vicar reveals who he is, and the congregation learns a valuable lesson. Again, it’s unlikely this ever happened. But folklorogists tell us that these kinds of tales follow patterns that will make sense not only to us, but across many cultures and era. In Roman myth, the gods Jupiter and Mercury took the form of beggars, and rewarded the peasants that welcomed them in. In Greek Epic, Odysseus returned

home disguised as a beggar – to have some treat him well, and others behave abysmally. In fairy tales, princes and regents check their subjects’ loyalty by masquerading as paupers that badmouth the king. In mediaeval piety plays, saints might charade as strangers – to test which villagers are true followers of Christ. Each time the moral lesson is clear: be careful how you treat beggars and outsiders – because you don’t know who you might be dealing with. Knowing all that, I quickly dismissed the ‘vicar dressed as a beggar’ as just another tale. But to my surprise, one crafty cleric had actually sprung that ruse on an unsuspecting flock. On that Sunday morning, a character stepped out of myth and brought an archetypal story into the real world. Perhaps the vicar knew the myths and chose to bring one to life? If he did, he was not the first. Jesus often chose storytelling forms, like parables, to teach his followers. But in Luke’s gospel, myth breaks into reality when Jesus treads the road to Emmaus. Remember how the disciples failed to recognise their Lord as they walked together? Perhaps it’s because he was in disguise. Maybe he looked like a foreigner, or even a poor foreigner. Jesus the stranger made it clear he had no place to stay – and looked set to walk on into the night, until the disciples chose to invite him in. Once more, the lowly subjects prove themselves worthy, by caring for their king in disguise. But when Jesus walked to Emmaus, a real person stepped out of myth and into reality. The Word became flesh once more. Though only hinted at in the gospels, this ‘Jesus in disguise’ was popular in early Christian literature. In the Gospel of Judas, Jesus walks

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Diocesan School for Girls' St Cecilia Singers at The Big Sing finale in Dunedin Town Hall, 2016.

rings true

I They had screaming fans and wild applause at every Big Sing.

n August this year, 860 students from 21 schools hit the high notes at Aotearoa New Zealand’s annual choral festival finale, ‘The Big Sing’. That might seem a hefty turnout for a Kiwi sing-off, but before the finalists made it to Dunedin’s Town Hall, up to 10,000 had already sung their best from Whangarei to Fairlie, Taranaki to Timaru, scooping regional prizes on the way. By the national finale, judges were left with only the finest 21 troupes, out of 270 entries. The good news at this year’s Big Sing, was that one third of those finalist schools were Anglican.

Let’s put that in context. New Zealand has 367 secondary schools, but only 22 are Anglican. That’s roughly 1 in 25. But 1 in 3 schools joining this year’s choral glitterati were Anglican: Auckland’s Diocesan School for Girls, Dilworth School (Auckland), Woodford House (Havelock North), Chilton St James (Hutt Valley), Christ’s College (Christchurch), Craighead Diocesan (Timaru) and St Hilda’s Collegiate (Dunedin). That success rate rises well above coincidence, or the sum of decile, staff and location. So why did Anglican schools perform so

Otago Daily Times

43 The Far Side: Imogen de la Bere on what buoys up the CofE

Sound teaching that

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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

So in many ways, I am here now despite growing up in an Anglican church. Attending church then, is no guarantee our children will grow as authentic disciples of Christ. So where and how do we begin, and how do we start to think beyond events and programmes? Our aim should be to foster an authentic culture of discipleship. Not only for the kids, but for all of us. In his book Making Disciples in Messy Church1, Paul Moore lays out three ways for disciples to learn: in formal, informal and social settings. Most churches stick with the formal route: we adopt a school model to teach about God. As Episcopalian author Gretchen Wolff Pritchard2 notes, this means: “Adults come to church … to worship, and children come to Sunday school to acquire information.” We forget that, like us, our children are worshippers and followers of God. A small child learns to talk by listening and imitating others, and an apprentice learns by trying new skills on the job.

Strategic Faith formation To nurture sturdy faith that matures with each child, we need to attend to where they are up to in their own spiritual journey. Preschoolers meet God in different ways to primary-aged children, and

Friendly grown-ups help children during the Diocese of Wellington's mission hui.

Partnering with families Resourcing, encouraging and empowering parents to nurture their children’s faith are some of the church’s greatest challenges – and privileges. Since churches aren’t with kids for much time each week, tools like Faith Box, Faith 5 and Orange3 can help parents encourage kids as disciples at home. It’s not difficult, but scheduled times to remember God’s role in our everyday lives can make a big difference: at meal times, bed time, drive time or bath time. We also need to think critically about how families encounter God together in church. Do we leave the kids in a corner with a colouring sheet while adults worship? Or do we separate them off from one another?

Whānau God is at work in our local schools, workplaces and community groups. Like sports coaches that stick to the sidelines rather than jumping into the game, we can cheer disciples on, support them in their choices and help name where God is at work in their lives. None of these approaches are addons, or extras, but together they show how we can walk with children as disciples of Christ, growing in our faith together. Diana Langdon works as enabler for Strandz, the Tikanga Pakeha children and families’ ministry hub. diana@strandz.org.nz Notes 1. Paul Moore, Making Disciples in Messy Church, BRF publishing, UK, 2013. 2. Gretchen Wolff Pritchard, Offering the Gospel to Children, Cowley Publications, 1992. 3. http://www.faithbox.co.nz, Faith5.org, http:// thinkorange.com

Dilworth School's 'Fortissimo' gear up at the Big Sing in 2016.

That spiritual base changes the school's singing culture.

each voice alone is imperfect, together they can reach the sublime. That’s why a well-disciplined, sensitive and harmonious choir – at its best – is both a sign of God’s Kingdom and the chance for a glimpse of heaven. No wonder the judges like the sound of that. Rev Anne van Gend is Director of the Anglican Schools Office. anglicanschoolsnz@gmail.com

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like the Son

ANGLICAN TAONGA

ANGLICAN TAONGA ADVENT 2016

ADVENT 2016

ENVIRONMENT

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October 2016: St Hilda's chapel choir sing with St Paul's Cathedral singers. Visible front row L-R: Victoria Tong, Natalie Storm, Maddie Guthrie and Kaya Fukushima.

un floods our sitting room. I perch on a stool to hang stained glass ornaments across the windows. A holly wreath. A snowflake. A pohutakawa bloom. Patches of coloured light, red, blue and green dance on the opposite wall. Outside, a tui chortles. I love bringing out our Christmas decorations as spring sidles towards summer and Advent begins. Many of them are historic, and look it. Some of these ornaments were crafted by little fingers nearly 30 years ago, made for a cold northern-hemisphere Christmas. Over the years we’ve added uniquely New Zealand items: a sequined takahe, a shiny fantail. Carol the summer and welcome the Christ-child goes Shirley Murray’s hymn.1 Feeling creative, a few years ago I embroidered her words on bright green cloth and surrounded them with appliques of traditional Christmas angels and singing birds of Aotearoa, with a little buzzy bee and some jingle bells added on for fun. I hang it every Advent. Yet Advent and Christmas in spring and summer are not my heritage. Christmas was always bitterly cold where I grew up. When we sang ‘Away in a manger’ I expected a fire inside, and frosty stars outside. Coming to live in New Zealand we had to re-make our family traditions, including the seasonal ones. It felt strange at first. Now it seems normal to be rejoicing in the promise of summer in December. And yet I’m still aware of a disconnect. New Zealand in general, and Christians in particular still seem to find it difficult to disentangle Christmas from the deep midwinter. In fact, biblical evidence shows us Jesus was almost certainly not born at midwinter, but in late September or early October. The first followers of Jesus don’t seem to have bothered much with his birthday. Only from the fourth century, did the winter solstice – with its celebration of light’s return at the darkest, longest night of the year – become linked with the birth of the Son of God in obscurity and humility. So, what to do about Christmas, here in Aotearoa? We can opt for historical accuracy, research the ‘true’ date of Jesus’ birth and honour that. We can acknowledge the fact that Christmas as we know it is based on northern hemisphere festivals and winter traditions from many cultures. We might choose to move Celebrating Mary and the baby Jesus amidst the life and promise of summer.

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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.

rowing up in the Church of England, I learnt how to speak and act like a good little Anglican. A keen member of Sunday school and youth group, I could recite the Nicene Creed at a young age, and served as an acolyte in Sunday morning services. However in my first year in university, studying at King’s College London, I had to confront a difficult truth. Despite all that history of growing up in church, I had no real idea of the Bible, and could not articulate what Jesus meant to me. My faith, it seemed, had no depth at all. How could that have happened? As I made new friends in the Christian Union, they introduced me to a lifechanging gift: grace. Then they walked alongside me, sharing their faith with me, teaching me how to unpack the scriptures and to pray. They showed me how to live generously: to hope and persevere. And as they modelled discipleship, they gave me those tools to take with me and pass on to others.

Intergenerational faith communities A healthy church brings everyone into its family, so that all ages work together for the common goal of promoting spiritual growth. Intergenerational discipleship needn’t be complicated or too spiritual either – it arises from relationships, with one another, and with God. Children need five consistent adults outside their family who will share their faith. Older congregation members could fill one of those roles if your church makes space for friendships to blossom. A retired mechanic might not know a 10-step discipleship programme, but could show church teenagers how to care for their first car, and share faith along the way. In one Wellington church, the all-age ukulele group lets parishioners express their faith through music – across the generations. Keep it simple.

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ADVENT 2016

Adrienne Thompson dodges her midwinter Christmas notions to welcome the Christ-child’s arrival in summer.

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You can't guide someone you don't know...

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If we see ourselves as pilgrims headed for the Kingdom, we can recognise children as partners in faith, as full members of the body of Christ. Becoming Jesus’ disciple should never depend on age or stage, on how bright or what height you are. When adults assume they hand faith down to children, we forget that children already know God in ways that adults cannot imagine. Children can see God – at times and in ways only visible to adults who take the time to look through the child’s eyes.

Children already know God in ways that adults cannot imagine.

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SPIRITUALITY

of the school,” says Dilworth chaplain, Rev Warren Watson. Music-making can challenge students in faith, says Warren, and strengthen their sense of Christian community. And plenty of times those high school highlights don’t fade. I’ll never forget a bewildered father who turned up at school looking for a hymnbook. His daughter, who otherwise showed no interest in religion, had asked for a copy as her 21st birthday present. What those school songs gave her, she had failed to find anywhere else. Another gift of singing in choirs is the sense of belonging that comes from becoming one in a body of sound. To achieve that, each singer must attune to the others. If one part falters or falls behind, the whole choir takes a dive. That’s when the choir itself becomes most like the Body of Christ. And when that choir sings to God, though

It’s time to move from teaching kids ‘about’ God, says Diana Langdon. Instead let’s invite them into a faithful, loving community of disciples – that will value all they have to offer.

mrmaxwhitaker@gmail.com

36 well? Or Presbyterian schools, for that matter, who made up another four of the finalist schools? On one level, the answer is simple. Schools that pray often, sing often. Regular chapel services fortify the sense of ‘a singing school’, says Ella Hanify, Head of Music at Chilton St James, “It’s not just an elite group of singers who “perform” in our schools, everyone gets involved.” So when Anglican schools meet to worship: once, twice or more times each week, their choirs get chances to sing – and a reason to exist beyond the next competition. Anglican school choirs know their purpose too: to enhance worship, and to lead hearts, minds and souls towards God. Meanwhile, Anglican Church traditions give wings to choral conductors’ skills. “Often Anglican school choir directors are strongly involved in national choirs: like Voices NZ, NZ National Youth Choir, and NZ Secondary Students’ Choir,” says Shona McIntyre-Bull, director of Auckland Diocesan School for Girls Big Sing gold winners, the St Cecilia Singers. “But many are also involved in top-level church and cathedral music around the country.” At the same time as broadening their scope, that spiritual base changes the schools’ singing cultures. Each year the Big Sing adjudicators identify one choir that best embodies the spirit of the festival. In 2016, Dilworth School’s choir Fortissimo received that distinction in the Ambassador’s Award. According to Dilworth old boy and vocal tutor Nathan Hauraki, Fortissimo was greeted with screaming fans and wild applause at every Big Sing appearance. But back at Dilworth, choral music is not just about winning prizes or admirers. “Music and singing are an integral part

Becoming Kingdom pilgrims

Growing together as disciples

intermediate-aged kids have different spiritual needs to teens or young adults. The challenge is to lead children to know God themselves at every stage. Ask yourself: How will your children have met God by the time they leave primary school? Is your church staying tuned to their discipleship needs? Getting to know the children in your church comes first. You can’t guide someone you don’t know, and especially if they don’t like you. Where have they been? Who are they now? And where are they heading in the next phase of their life? When you answer these questions you will know where to look for the right tools to add to your discipleship kit.

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ANGLICAN TAONGA ADVENT 2016

ADVENT 2016

Anne van Gend revels in Anglican schools’ success on the choral stage this year, and explores what gives our choirs their edge.

This year, our national children, youth and young adults’ enablers pinpointed discipleship as a top need for all our children, teens and young adults. Strandz has five key values as part of our vision for children and families, which give clues on how to reshape churches as disciple-making communities. Discipleship is the glue that holds these values together.

Rev Dr Max Whitaker gained his PhD in New Testament from Otago University for his research into Jesus’ post-resurrection appearances. He serves as an assistant priest in the parish of North Invercargill.

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ANGLICAN SCHOOLS

42 Film: John Bluck clicks play on Poi E, the song that remade us

Likewise, the child growing up in a faith community marked by loving relationships will practice ‘immersed discipleship’ as they observe, imitate and mature in their faith.

Bringing it all together

among his disciples as a child. In the Acts of John Jesus appears as an old man to some, a young man to others. In the Acts of Thomas, Jesus appears, then sends Thomas to India, and in the Acts of Andrew and Matthias, Jesus helps his disciples, while disguised as a sailor. These writers, and the Christians they lived among, didn’t view the Ascension as a one way trip, nor Pentecost as a final hand over. They expected Jesus to turn up at any moment, in physical form: perhaps to test how they might treat the stranger, beggar or foreigner. For these early Christians, who expected Jesus’ return at any moment, his words were no metaphor: “truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” It was not as though they had seen Jesus as a stranger and invited him in… it really was Jesus, in a disguised form, appearing like Jupiter and Mars did to Philomon and Baucus, or as the vicar to his unsuspecting congregation. For the writers of the apocryphal gospels and Acts, the Word was alive in the flesh, and ancient mythology still broke into the here and now. Though many stories of Jesus’ return never made it to Holy Scripture, the imagination of those ancient writers can still challenge us. How would we behave, if we believed that Jesus really could and did appear among us? As a foreigner, a beggar, a single parent on a benefit, a gang member, a bank manager, or… anyone at all? How would it change our actions if we thought it might be Jesus before us, not just the metaphor, but really Jesus there in front of us? Perhaps this Advent it is worth giving that thought a try…

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ANGLICAN TAONGA

ANGLICAN ANGLICANTAONGA TAONGA ADVENT ADVENT2016 2016

ADVENT 2016

They expected Jesus to turn up at any moment – in physical form.

Some have made the canon, but other more far-fetched yarns lie hidden in lesser-known tomes.

At no stage have they said: ‘Look. It’s fantastic that you’re still alive.'

Emily, Phil and Monika at home in Papatoetoe.

strongly recommend you don’t go there. If you get ill, you’ll be snookered.’ “Then in August, we spent a month in Europe on a family holiday. “Just two or three days before we went, the head oncologist phoned and said: ‘I’m strongly, strongly advising you not to go. Your kidneys will fail at some stage… and blah, blah, blah.’ ” Phil and Moni went anyway. Sure, they threw the dice. And had the time of their lives. “From a medical perspective,” says Phil, “nothing has changed: I’m terminally ill. “The oncologists always say: ‘Statistically, 10 percent of people respond really well to chemo.’ “I get that. “But at no stage have they said: ‘Look. It’s fantastic that you’re still alive.’ ”

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38 Environment: Phillip Donnell marvels at Creation’s power

ANGLICAN TAONGA

C H I L D R E N & YO U T H

Max Whitaker has spent years unravelling the many stories of Jesus’ returns to earth.

When did I see you,

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Yet from the vantage point of late 2016 – some 10 months into his “days of grace” – Phil is profoundly grateful that no-one offered him a needle. Why? “Because it wasn’t my time – and I would have missed out on so much.” Things began to turn for the better in late September 2015. That’s when Phil, Monika and their two adult children, Michael and Emily, went away for a weekend to Matakana. “Having not eaten for five months, at breakfast on Saturday I declared: ‘I really fancy egg on toast.’ “And the wonder is, I could eat it. It stayed down. It was manna from heaven.” He bounded back to his oncologist, who OK’d a nurse to yank the feeding tube from his nose. “I was like: ‘I’m normal! I’m normal!’ Psychologically, that was a massive step forward.” Once Phil started eating again, his weight and energy levels shot up. So much so that in December, he walked a half-marathon with Emily to raise money for the Cancer Society.

Christian soldier

hirty-five years after Phil Clark, the National Director of the Church Army, began full-time frontline Christian service, he’s just sent this report from the front line: “I think the Jesus thing works. “At every level. “I’ve always hoped it would. “But never really known.” “I’ve often wondered what would happen to my faith if something awful happened. “Because you can assume it’ll be OK… but you can’t actually know till you get there. “And I guess the good news is, it’s coped. “It’s survived. “At no stage did I want to walk away.” *

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ADVENT 2016

ANGLICAN TAONGA ADVENT 2016

ADVENT 2016

D Day – June 6, 1944 – was a pivotal day in history. Eleven months later, allied troops were celebrating the end of World War Two in Europe.

Shutterstock / NeydtStock

28 Children: Diana Langdon calls for disciple-making

ANGLICAN TAONGA

PEOPLE

Phillip Donnell and his tramping companions are stopped short by beauty as the sky bursts open one night on the Kepler Track.

Glorious kowhai and kaka beak festoon the springtime Advent season of readiness, beginnings and hopeful waiting.

our celebration of Christmas to around our own winter solstice, in June. We can keep walking this uneasy path of trying to make traditional winter Christmas cohabit with summery Aotearoa. Santa sweats on his sleigh. Christmas cards glitter with snow. We may even decide to ignore Christmas altogether. But whether we like it or not, I’m pretty sure that December 25 will continue to be Christmas for most of the world. I am happy to go with that. I value the solidarity of the worldwide Christian community observing the birth of Jesus together. Our faith is not simply seasonal, it is historical and social. I like to remember that my friends in Bangladesh are drumming and singing on Christmas morning, even as my sister in Germany is returning from midnight mass and I am setting the table for Christmas lunch. So for me the call comes again. Learn to live here. What does the birth of Jesus mean in this landscape, in this season? Though we name the first of December as summer, it’s really still spring until we come to the solstice on the 21st. To me it seems utterly appropriate to prepare for the coming of Christ in the spring-time season of readiness, beginnings and hopeful waiting. Some of the Advent readings link with that – we hear of the new shoot springing out of an old stump,2 flowers blossoming in the desert3. They blossom in Aotearoa too: kowhai, rata, pohutakawa, poroporo and all the flowers that the Pakeha forbears brought here; the colours becoming ever more vivid and varied, like a stained glass window brightening as the sun strengthens. Then – summer begins with Christmas. And at the solstice, the sun at its highest fittingly marks the birth of the Son of the

Highest. At least one very traditional carol could have been written especially for a summer nativity: Hark the Herald Angels sing. Hail the Heaven-born Prince of peace, Hail the Sun of Righteousness Light and life to all he brings, Risen with healing in his wings. 4 I still dream of a white Christmas – but it’s the white of manuka blossom, the white of foaming surf, the soft white peaks of cream on the pavlova, the white of puffy clouds in a blue, summer sky. Epiphany follows: the demonstration of God’s glory to the whole world. How perfect

When all mortal flesh

to observe it in this season of golden sunshine and flaming flax flowers and immense, dazzling light. So for my prayer at this season I’m grateful to Michael Leunig. We welcome [Christmas in] summer, and the glorious blessing of light. We are rich with light, we are blessed by the Son. Let us empty our hearts into the brilliance.

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e were standing on the verandah of Moturau Hut, overlooking Lake Manapouri, while others formed silhouettes on the shoreline.

Let us pour our darkness into the glorious, forgiving light. For this loving abundance, let us give thanks and offer our joy. Amen.5 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

Creation took us in and blessed us by surprise.

Notes 1. Shirley Murray, Erena Upside-down Christmas 1992 2-3. Isaiah 11:1, Isaiah 35:1 4. Words by Charles Wesley, 1739 5. Michael Leunig, When I talk to you, Harper Collins 2004

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keeps silence It was evening, and the entire western sky was catching on fire, like the end of the world – or the beginning. No one spoke. The silence was absolute, save the odd shuffle that reminded us our 40-bunk hut was full of people. We stood there, unmoving, hushed by the extraordinary spectacle playing out in front of us, as it slowly faded away. For over twenty minutes, we barely spoke a word. Nobody stirred. In the near-dark, we stood and watched that single day reach its zenith. I am not sentimental about sunsets. But that heavenly display was the pinnacle of our four-day expedition. For one thing, it forced us to put aside being busy. We had unlabelled, unscheduled time to look – with more than our eyes – at what was wonderfully there to see. We weren’t obliged to think

constructive thoughts, or find a useful purpose. No gadgets were there to ‘kill the time’ it took. We were bound together by our smallness, our insignificance when compared to that celestial blaze. But at the same time, we gained a curious import as witnesses of its glory. "... Through everything God made, they can clearly see his invisible qualities - his eternal power and divine nature..." as Paul wrote in Romans 1:20. While many encounter God best in the wilderness, we can foster relationship with God in silence, anywhere. When all falls quiet we lose our verbal camouflage, so often we babble to occupy the silence. But if we let it be, silence can bring forth a deep communion – with Creation, with others, and with God. Isaiah promises that "in quietness and

confidence is your strength" (Isaiah 30:15). So when we seek God in Creation, or in silence, we confess that desire to sink into nothingness, to wait on what God might reveal. At times like ours at Manapouri, the sign of God’s presence arrives unbidden, Creation takes us in, and blesses us by surprise. At other times we are too engrossed in the human world to enter into wonder. To turn our hearts fully to God, can learn to detach from all that occupies and distracts us: cares and joys, friends and duties, all others, even ourselves. Even studying the Word or offering prayer can stand in the way. Likewise, the thoughts of our hearts – our desires, hopes and fears – can divert us from opening up to God. Or, if we regard waiting on God as a means to an end, we will struggle to find quietness of soul. It is not a technique for leaning on God to grant petitions. If, however, we understand waiting on God as a blessing, then God’s glory can humble us to holy stillness – opening a space where we can know his presence. Silence grows on us too, so even a little

season of silent worship will bring peace and rest that yields lingering blessings. *

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What does all this mean for our Christian concern for the earth? The reasons we want to protect the environment are more than scientific or pragmatic. Knowing God’s presence in Creation grounds our inner well-being and projects us beyond ourselves. So when we are stewards of the earth, we protect not only the material realm. When we care for Creation we still safeguard the means for human survival. But we also hold onto those sublime places that inspire us to deeper understanding of the mystical, intangible power of God. Phillip Donnell assists the Christian environmental organisations A Rocha Aotearoa New Zealand and Planetcarers, and is a life member of Forest and Bird. phillip.donnell@arocha.org

We're doing more than safeguarding human survival.

Anupam hatui , Shutterstock.com

ADVENT 2016

Entering into silence Awe can lead us into contemplation, but spiritual exercises like Thomas Keating's Centring Prayer may also help us enter a state of quiet openness to God. Simple steps for centring prayer: 1. Choose a sacred word as the symbol of your intention to consent to God’s presence and action within, e.g. Lord, Jesus, Love, Mercy, Shalom. 2. Sit comfortably and close your eyes, settle briefly, and silently introduce the sacred word. 3. When you become aware of thoughts, return ever-so-gently to the sacred word. 4. At the end of the prayer period, remain in silence with eyes closed for a couple of minutes.

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Features

08

24

The sacred path chosen for the Most Rev Brown Turei

Paul Barber sums up how Kiwis stopped sharing wealth

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30

Jonathan Jong invites us to face the facts of dying

The Selwyn Foundation takes on a big slice of Auckland’s aged housing

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34

Phil Clark’s faith holds steady under fire

Anne van Gend unpacks our schools’ choral triumphs

Man for all seasons

Coffee or death?

Still more to do

You call this a fair go?

Helping us age well

Singing to God

Media Officer Lloyd Ashton Ph 09 521-4439 021 348-470 mediaofficer@anglicanchurch.org.nz.

Cover: Archbishop Brown Turei was awarded the ONZM in the 2015 New Year Honours. Photo: Simon Woolf / Woolf Photography.

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

http://anglicantaonga.org.nz Page 3


ANGLICAN TAONGA

ADVENT 2016

COMMENT

Shutterstock / Prazis

Tric Malcolm peers back at the world that welcomed our saviour’s birth, and suggests where to look for him today.

Taking refuge at Christmas

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his December we will celebrate a homeless baby’s birth. Born in a make-shift shelter, wrapped in rags by his parents living on a poverty wage, this baby’s family did not know how long it would be before somebody evicted them. As events panned out, it didn’t take that long.

God chooses to be with us in broken times.

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Too soon, the new born baby Jesus’ parents were forced to flee his birthing town, in fear for his life. Today, any piece of this story might belong to people coming to the Wellington City Mission. They come seeking assistance, friendship, belonging and hope. None of this looks like the Christmas we often picture – of angels and doves, love and peace. Instead this is the story of Christ come to live with us, as one of us. Homelessness is now a well-worn Kiwi media theme. This year, story after story has drawn our attention to New Zealanders who struggle to glean the basics from an all too meagre living. At the last census, over forty thousand Kiwis entered the homeless column. 41% were families with children. 52% were in paid employment or full time study, and 50.8% were under the age of 25.1 This is God’s story, but also ours. It’s us: our people, our children. Christmas captures the drama of the God who chooses to be with us in broken and difficult times. But the Bethlehem scene also promises hope: the hope of an innocent

child, full of potential, and the hope that appears with the stranger. The first nativity was set in a world of political occupation, displacement and poverty. Into that domain rode a group of strangers from afar. The light of a mysterious star had ushered them close to Bethlehem, compelling them forward in the hope of something new. Prepared to travel a great distance, the strangers searched for a sign of hope. And they brought gifts to offer the child whose promise was peace and goodwill to all. This Christmas, we can choose to travel beyond our comfort zones. We can arrive, bringing our wealth and gifts, offering what we have – not just what we can spare – to come and be present for those who need us most. And when we get there, we should expect to find the gifts of possibility, hope and transformation. The Rev Tric Malcolm is Wellington City Missioner. tric@wgtncitymission.org.nz 1. http://www.healthyhousing.org.nz/wp-content/ uploads/2016/08/Severe-housing-deprivation-inAotearoa-2001-2013-1.pdf


ANGLICAN TAONGA

ADVENT 2016

EARTHQUAKES

Shutterstock / simon Gleeson

Bishop Kelvin Wright looks beneath the grandeur of his South Island home to the forces that made its mountains rise.

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ne night halfway through November the ground shook again. Mountains fell and rivers were stopped. I watched the pictures of the wrecked roads, all of which I have recently driven. I saw the fearful people and heard the perpetual question. This is where I live, the South Island. I was born here. Most of my family live here and those that don't, wish they did. When the word "home" is uttered, it is images of mountains and lakes and beech forest and tussockland that come, unbidden, to mind. These are the places which formed me and which hold me. And today we are reminded that it is all so beautiful, because it is all so dangerous. Below our feet a couple of vast slabs of rock are floating on top of a seething sea of slowly boiling magma. They are grinding against each other as the currents move slowly but inexorably below them. Where they meet, they course together, jostling and pushing each other skyward in a jagged seam which forms the mountains and the lakes, and from which flow the braided rivers. They push, and lock and let loose in those periodic shudders which

form our middle part of Pacific's triple star. Well, all of them, actually. It is all so spacious. And so still. Or so it seems to us, only because we exist in such a different timescale, with such a different set of perspectives. In fact, the land is as alive and as mobile as a cat. This too shall pass. These trees and the lake which feeds them. When we look at our nurturing and exacting land we are looking at ballet, not sculpture.

What a gift to be here, even if the fare for this journey is a periodic reminder of the fatal power which formed our land and forms us. The Rt Rev Dr Kelvin Wright is Bishop of Dunedin. kelvin@calledsouth.org.nz

Walking the Routeburn Track alongside Lake McKenzie.

Shutterstock / Evgeny Gorodetsky

This too shall pass

It is all so beautiful, because it is so dangerous.

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ANGLICAN TAONGA

ADVENT 2016

MISSION

Our Church needs to radically reshape its life toward mission, says Anglican Missions CEO, Canon Robert Kereopa, and the moment to start is now… The Decade of Mission we took on as a church in 2015 is no faceless scheme to save us, says Robert. For our church to grow, thrive and help God’s kingdom come, each one of us will have to change our ways to make it happen.

We need urgent change – not mere tinkering, either.

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Let’s restart with a

missional heart

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e’ve known what I’m going to talk about for a long time. For too long, in fact. Bishop Richard Randerson surveyed the church seven years ago and published his findings in Engagement 21; A wake up call to the 21st Century Church in Mission. Back then, he found 100 percent of the Anglicans he polled said that change was needed. Not mere tinkering, either. Sixteen percent said the need for change was ‘urgent’ – while 84 percent said the need for change was ‘extremely urgent’. The people he surveyed were mostly clergy, including a few bishops. The Rev Dr Kevin Ward came to similar conclusions in his recent survey: ‘The church in post-sixties New Zealand:

decline, growth and change’. So what change is needed? Well, both of these authors say mission – effective mission – is the key to transformation of the church. That’s what their research shows. In the view of many of the people Richard Randerson surveyed, that sort of mission is just not happening. He wrote that his survey revealed “considerable disquiet with the current paradigm of mission as practiced”. And while all his respondents backed the ACC Mission Statement, they felt that their church wasn’t delivering on that either. Kevin Ward, who teaches at both Knox College and Otago University, has looked at churches across New Zealand’s major denominations.


ANGLICAN TAONGA

ADVENT 2016

Healthy churches have a younger profile: Kotoni Sunia and Matiu 'Ali are all smiles as All Saints' Church in Fasi mo e Afi, Tonga, celebrates its 21st anniversary. Photos by Sharon Elone.

His research has convinced him that churches need an ‘outward focus’ if they’re to be effective, healthy and growing. He identifies eight critical factors: An outward focus; high levels of participation; a strong sense of belonging; a clear sense of direction; effective leadership; a lively faith; inspiring and engaging worship services – and a younger age profile. He also proposes creating new forms of church that tackle changes in the culture, particularly around individualism and freedom; and the diverse needs of people, society and the world at large. In Engagement 21, Bishop Richard gives examples of “green shoots” appearing where ministry units in our church are grappling creatively with mission. He also identifies three obstacles to mission delivery: inadequate training in theology and ministry skills; preoccupation with the one priest-one parish model at the expense of other ways of being church, and a disproportionate emphasis placed on managing the church’s institutional life at the expense of its mission. In short, nothing short of radical change is needed – a radical re-ordering and reforming of church combined with revolutionary new and creative forms of doing mission. This is a big task which will take prayer and wisdom, permission-giving and risk-taking, courage and unwavering commitment to live out the gospel in this generation. So what can we do? Radical change starts with a new vision of ourselves as a missional church, giving priority to the pastoral needs within and the missional needs without. In 2014, our General Synod began working towards that goal with a Decade of Mission for our three Tikanga church, that began in Advent 2015. In 2016 we refocused the Decade into five missional targets with working

Newly confirmed young All Saints' members line up with Archbishop Winston Halapua, flanked by Tongan royals HRH Princess Salote Mafile'o Pilolevu and Lord Tuita.

groups to promote and energize each mission field. These missional targets are:

• Overhauling church priorities, structures, committees and leadership time at all levels: to reflect the missionary zeal of the early church, and the ACC 5-part mission in this generation. • Building mission fellowships at all levels of the province: cross-parish, crosstikanga, cross-culturally, ecumenically and with churches overseas. • Building our capacity to carry out evangelism, discipleship, missiology training, social action and transformation and eco-missions. • Adding 100,000 new disciples to the Church in Aotearoa New Zealand in 10 years and setting new targets in the Diocese of Polynesia. • Telling and sharing our mission stories How can you help make the change? Back in 1988, the Lambeth Conference established the 1990s as the Decade of Evangelism. Looking back, I’ve heard numerous people stand apart and say “It didn’t work,” – as if the Decade of Evangelism could have worked without their getting on board. The truth is, the Decade of

When churches grapple creatively with mission... green shoots appear.

Evangelism was successful for those churches who took it seriously. In Africa, churches grew right through that evangelism decade and continue to rise today. Recently the Anglican Church of Tanzania’s Western Tanganyika diocese reported it will open thirty new churches this year. Some New Zealand churches took the Decade of Evangelism seriously and grew – such as St Christopher’s Avonhead in Christchurch. This Decade of Mission is no different. It will only succeed if each one of us – clergy, lay people and bishops want it to succeed. And if we commit to getting involved: as individuals, parishes, dioceses and church organisations. If we are serious about making change, we need to activate the Decade of Mission wherever we are. If you have exciting mission ideas and stories to share, please get in touch and we can tell your story on the Decade of Mission website ‘Te Kare o nga Wai - Hovering over the face of the deep’ at: http://tekareongawai.org. Keep an eye on the Talanoa section, where you’ll find inspiring ideas for revival and change. Canon Robert Kereopa is Chief Executive Officer of Anglican Missions. robert@angmissions.org.nz

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ANGLICAN TAONGA

ADVENT 2016

PEOPLE

In March, the Most Rev Brown Turei will lay his crozier on the altar, and step down from his duties as Archbishop of this church. He will be 92, and drawing a line under a ministry whose length of service is perhaps without parallel in the Anglican Communion. Lloyd Ashton has been learning about his formative years. Learning too, that where priesthood is concerned, young Brown Turei didn’t have much say in the matter.

Predestined for Archbishop Brown Turei at Gisborne’s Te Poho-oRawiri marae, November 2016. Photo: Stephen Jones.

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rchbishop Brown Turei was ordained a deacon in 1949, and priested the following year. So he’s been in full-time ministry for 67 years.

“No,” he said. “Your name is: The Reverend Brown Turei.”

priesthood But actually, he’s been the Reverend Brown Turei for about 20 years longer than that. Archbishop Brown spent his earliest years in Rangitukia, near the mouth of the Waiapu River, on the East Coast. The minister of the Waiapu pariha at that time was Canon Poihipi Kohere – who was no fly-by-nighter himself. He led that parish from 1906 to 1958. One day, when Brown Turei was just a Sunday school lad, ‘Uncle Boy’ pulled him aside and asked: “What’s your name?” To which he replied: “Oh, my name’s Brown Turei.” Canon Poihipi corrected him: “No,” he said. “Your name is: The Reverend Brown Turei.” *

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The fact is, Brown Turei was predestined for the priesthood.

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He was born in Opotiki on December 12, 1924 to Honeheke Waititi and his wife Heneriata (nee Goldsmith) and from them he gets his Ngati Porou and Te Whanau-aApanui iwi ties. But before he was born he was chosen to be brought up by relatives. In his case, by Dick (Teki) Turei and his wife Hariata, who was Hone Waititi’s sister. But our story nearly ended before it began. Because the doctors didn’t expect the newborn to survive – so he was baptised quickly, by a Pakeha priest. He pulled through, of course. And his whangai mum, Hariata, made a vow like the one Hannah makes in the Book of Samuel: “Ae, ma te Atua tenei”. “Yes. This child is for God.” *

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That dedication is reflected in the name


ANGLICAN TAONGA

Hariata Turei (nee Waititi). The bishop's mama whangai.

Teki (Dick) Turei, papa whangai to Bishop Brown Turei.

Dick and Hariata chose for their new son. They named him in honour of Dick’s older brother, The Reverend Paraone Turei, who had been the vicar of Hikurangi. He’d been cut down by typhoid fever, and died in 1912, aged 28. But to grasp the extent of Archbishop Brown’s priestly whakapapa we need to go one generation further back. Dick and Paraone’s father was Mohi Turei – a legend in Ngati Porou circles. Mohi was among the last students of Te Tapere Nui a Whatonga, at Rangitukia, where he became a tohunga1, an expert in the ancient disciplines of Te Ao Maori. Later, thanks to the evangelist Piripi Taumata-a-Kura, and William Williams, Mohi became a Christian, then a student at the Waerenga-a-Hika mission school – and, finally, an Anglican priest, ordained by Bishop Williams in 1870. But Mohi Turei never became a westernised priest, and in Don Tamihere’s view, he shaped the “template for Tairawhiti Christianity.” His haka: Tihei Taruke, which is a Ngati Porou classic, expresses this. A taruke is a crayfish pot, and that was Mohi’s metaphor for catching the old knowledge and the new. As we’ll see shortly, Mohi’s mokopuna, Brown Turei, has also contributed to the weaving of Ngati Porou culture and Christianity. *

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Dick and Hariata sent Brown to Te Aute College. By that stage, Dick was farming, so Brown was enrolled in a farming class. But his parents hadn’t lost sight of the vow they’d made when he was born. So they travelled to Auckland, hoping to sign Brown up at St John’s College. There, they bumped into an ordinand

ADVENT 2016

He shaped a “template for Tairawhiti Christianity”.

Trentham military camp, 1945: L-R: Bill Stafford, John Waititi, Brown Turei, Hati Grey.

Rev Mohi Turei, father of Dick Turei and Rev Brown Turei snr (Bishop Brown's namesake.) Photo: Alexander Turnbull Library.

named Terrence Loten, whose father was headmaster of Te Aute. The upshot? Young Turei was pulled from Te Aute’s farming stream – and set down into the academic one. As Archbishop Brown recently told Maori Television: “Irrespective of the path I took, I was redirected to the life I have led.” *

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He left Te Aute in 1943 and headed to College House in Christchurch to prepare for ministry. His mind was elsewhere, though, because the war was raging. The age of enlisting to the army was 21, he was only 19 – but he signed up anyway. He wasn’t being gung ho. He just figured that he needed to share in what the 28 Maori Battalion soldiers were going through. So he trained at Trentham, and as Private Turei, Serial no 811818, set sail from Wellington in early 1945 with the 15th reinforcement of the 28 Maori Battalion. As it happened, the war in Europe ended on May 7, 1945, five days before the ship docked in Egypt. But the guiding hand of God still reached him in The land of the Pharaohs. Padre Manu Bennett (later Bishop Manu) spotted young Turei there – and took him to visit the Holy Land, before the Battalion sailed for home on Boxing Day, 19452. So Private Turei never fought in the battalion’s great battles. But because of his willingness to do so, he won the respect of

the veterans who had fought – so many of whom he later pastored. *

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After the war, Brown picked up his studies at St John's College. He was deaconed in 1949, priested in 1950, and then did two years’ curacy in Tauranga. In 1952, the newly-minted Reverend Brown Turei was appointed Vicar of the Whangara Maori pastorate, near Gisborne – and straightaway, he joined a team organising a kapa haka competition to be contested between parishes from Anaura Bay to Wairoa. They called that competition: Tamararo. Sixty-five years later, Tamararo is a keystone of Tairawhiti life – and it has led, in part, to Te Matatini, which is the Olympics of kapa haka. To this day, says Don Tamihere, the Tumuaki of Gisborne’s Te Rau College, “every kapa haka roopu taking part in Tamararo has a song book that is full of the Gospel.” Mohi Turei would have approved. *

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The other significant development during the Whangara years was Brown Turei’s courtship of Mary Jane King. Or, as we’ve come to know her: Mrs Mihi Turei. It was a slow-burning romance, because for months at a time, Mihi (who has links to Ngati Porou and Ngati Kahu) was at Ardmore

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ANGLICAN TAONGA

ADVENT 2016

PEOPLE

Dedication of a memorial to Sir Apirana Ngata at St Mary's Church, Tikitiki, 1951.

Te Kapa Haka o Waihirere, winners of the Tamararo Shield when it was first contested, in 1952. Note the young priest in their midst.

From left: Sidney Holland, PM, Poihipi Kohere, Brown Turei, Wi Pere Mataira (obscured), Wharetini Rangi, Tunoa Wanoa, Dan Kaa.

Teachers’ Training College. Brown’s patience paid off, though. Ingrid Collins – who is Mihi’s younger sister – remembers one morning when she was eight years old, snuggled up in bed between her mum and dad, Ngaro and Bill, in their Whangara home. In comes Mihi (Ingrid can see her still, her face radiant, standing at the foot of the bed) telling her parents that Brown had proposed the previous evening. And that she’d accepted. Ingrid bookends that memory with another she recorded just the other evening, 60 years later. She’d popped in to visit her sister. While she was there, Brown came home. He gently kissed Mihi, and told her, as he’d done so often before: “It’s good to see you, my wife.” *

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That’s where we’ll leave our scan through Archbishop Brown Turei’s back pages. We’ll close with an up-to-date report, and a reflection. In September, a small Tainui roopu slipped down to Gisborne.

The guiding hand of God still reached him in the Land of the Pharaohs

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Mihi and Brown at Te Poho o Rawiri Marae, Gisborne.

Whangara, January 5, 1957.

They moved beneath the radar, and Tuheitia, the Maori king, was among them. Tuheitia is seriously unwell – but he still chose to travel that day to pay his respects to Archbishop Brown. And to invite him to the King’s Regatta at Turangawaewae next March, where he will bestow on him one of the Kingitanga’s highest honours. “That,” says Don Tamihere, “is a big deal”. And it’s Don who supplies our parting reflection: “Whakapapa is the key concept,” he says. “We’re not just talking about lineage in terms of lines of descent. “We’re also talking about sequence – one thing that has led to another, that has led to another. And the act of mihi, or appreciation and recognition, only works when you understand the whakapapa of something, because then you understand the value of it. “With Archbishop Brown you see a whakapapa of events, a whakapapa of elders entrusting him as a keeper of the mana, and a keeper of the taonga. “Long before he even realised what was going on, he was constantly being repositioned by them. That’s a very Maori thing to do. “He’s a touchstone, a bridge between the old world and the new. He’s a carrier of the thoughts and prayers and hopes of the old people. “People will come here and see him and begin to cry – because they see the elders behind him.

These priests, seen here at Sir Apirana Ngata's tangi at Waiomatatini in July 1950, helped shape the young Brown Turei. Front row, from left: Poihipi Kohere, Mutu Kapa, Bishop Fred Bennett, Kahi Harawira. Immediately behind Bishop Bennett: Sam Rangiihu – then Dan Kaa, with John Tamahori beside him. Photo: Ref 1/2-127881-F. Alexander Turnbull Library.

“We have a phrase here in Tairawhiti: Kawea te Rongopai. Carry the Good News. “But how well do you carry the gospel? How do you embody it? What’s the tikanga of your practice? “For us, Archbishop Brown is a true bearer of the gospel. He incarnates it.” 1. At Te Tapere Nui a Whatonga, Mohi mastered navigating, mapping the constellations, meteorology, whakapapa, whakairo (carving) and composing. 2. On January 23, 1946, 780 Maori Battalion soldiers disembarked from the Dominion Monarch at Wellington’s Pipitea Wharf. On YouTube, there's an old newsreel entitled: 'Maori Battalion Returns'. There's a fleeting glimpse of Pte Turei around the 7:00 mark. 3. Named after Karaitiana Tamararo, who was a local shepherd and kaumatua, as well as Mihi Turei’s maternal grandfather. His dream was to showcase the best of Maori performing arts, alongside the Gospel.


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ADVENT 2016

Consecrating St Mary’s New Plymouth as a fullfledged cathedral in March 2010. L-R: The Ven Tiki Raumati, Bishop of Taranaki Archbishop Philip Richardson; Archbishop Brown, Dean Jamie Allen; Fr Craig Butler (Catholic Regional Dean for North Taranaki) – and the late Archbishop Sir Paul Reeves. Photo: Rob Tucker.

What I’ve learned I thought: 'Crikey I hope we don't take this for granted.' When Philip Richardson became a bishop in 1999, he saw that Bishop Brown didn’t say much in the meetings of the House of Bishops – but when he did say something, it was best to listen. "In ecclesiastical terms, Bishop Brown was junior to Bishop Hui, and he always honoured that. “But I realised that there was a level of respect in which he was held that was rooted in something beyond church. “I’ve learned that if I can just hold myself back long enough to really listen – and it may be to a question he brings – there is great guidance and wisdom in what is offered. I’ve learned to trust that, enormously. “Early on, I would misinterpret that silence as a space I needed to fill. “But now I’ve learned that, actually, I need to wait.” *

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Archbishop Brown works out of a different paradigm. “It’s a paradigm of eldership, and I suspect it comes from a passing era. “It’s a paradigm that demands a certain kind of behaviour. “It’s not that he enforces it in any way. It’s just there. “There’s a mana, and seniority, which is simply given. “It’s to do with the profound humility I see in him – and I just hope that we will look to how he has been, and say: ‘That’s the character and quality of priestly leadership that I want to reflect in my life.’ ” *

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“At the Napier General Synod everyone could see what was happening within Tikanga Pakeha. That we were seriously divided, and in considerable pain and brokenness. “Tikanga Maori had reached consensus – and they wanted to move. That was clear. “But then Bishop Kito reported what Archbishop Brown had said in the Maori

caucus: ‘I’ve seen my brother Philip’s pain. And I want to stand with him.’ “That left me feeling a deep sense of unworthiness. Collective unworthiness that such grace had been extended to us, by both Tikanga Maori and Tikanga Pasefika. “And with an extraordinary sense of obligation: I thought: ‘Crikey. I hope we don’t take this for granted’.” “I treasure the times when Archbishop Brown and I have been on our own. “I remember we went to breakfast together once in Gisborne. Just the two of us. And we took a couple of selfies of us having breakfast – and he was nudging me in the elbow… there’s a lovely mischievous side to him. “I count it a real privilege that I’ve had this level of working relationship with him, and this level of friendship with him."

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Polo’uto – ripened to perfection

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t’s there in the General Synod 2016 minutes: No sooner had the Napier synod got down to business when Archbishop Brown Turei stood to his feet, and stopped proceedings. On behalf of Tikanga Maori he made an unreserved apology for the mamae and offence caused to Polynesia for a 2014 synod proposal to create a two-tikanga church – with Polynesia on the outer. Tikanga Polynesia responded by sitting cross-legged on the floor, heads bowed – which is their formal way of receiving a gift. And Archbishop Winston Halapua still marvels at the reset in relations that Archbishop Brown triggered that Sunday evening last May. “In our journey together, I never dreamed that I would live to see that.” “Because after his speech… we entered a new phase of life.” That gesture was one that inspired Archbishop Winston to reciprocate. Because he felt that there were things done in the lead up to the 1992 Constitution for which his tikanga needed to seek Tikanga Maori’s forgiveness. Everything had been done by the book back then, but... Maori had also asked to talanoa with Pasefika. And that hadn’t happened. So when the General Synod Standing Committee met in Samoa in July, Tikanga Pasefka presented ifoga – the solemn

February 2014, with the three Archbishops gathered in Hamilton for the ordination of Bishop Helen-Ann Hartley. Photo: Luci Harrison.

Samoan ritual of apology – to Tikanga Maori. That too was accepted. And in Archbishop Winston’s mind “there’s nothing now for future generations to worry about. They will move on – with no baggage from my generation, or those before me.” “The story is about the joy of saying sorry. “We move forward. Everything is beautiful.” *

The guiding hand of God still reached into Pharoah’s Land.

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And that first act of repentance is typical of the person who offered it, says Archbishop Winston: “Archbishop Brown lives the gospel,” he says. “He embodies it. It comes out in his speech, in the way he looks at people, it comes out in his working. It’s his consistency, his solidness, his making space safe for people… “In my observation, we sometimes say

things – and live differently. We’re human beings. But I am privileged to know a human being who lives what he speaks.” *

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“For me, he’s irreplaceable. He consecrated me as an archbishop. And it’s wonderful that I have been with him in what I call the climax of his life. “In Tongan, we have a word for that: polo’uto. “That’s when the fruit is really ripe, and still attached to the tree. All the sweetness is there, drawn up from the earth, and drawn down from the sunshine. “When the fruit reaches that level, it can’t get any sweeter. “All you can say is: Wow! “In him, I think we see the fullness of what a human being can be.”


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OVERSEAS AID

Photo: LWF/S Salim

Give Hope

this Christmas A mother who fled Mosul in early October prepares a meal using rations she has received. After risking their lives to escape, families have few belongings when they arrive at the nearby Nineveh town of Qayyarah or in Debaga camp. Once there, CWS-supported ACT Alliance teams step in with food, clothes, hygiene kits, health services and cash survival grants.

Gillian Southey invites us to open our hearts to families fleeing violence and repression.

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his Christmas, Christian World Service (CWS) needs our help to support people living under the shadow of war and poverty with food, water and safety. Last year refugee numbers reached 65.3 million, with no let up this year, as conflicts intensify and peace efforts falter. Every day as people flee trouble spots round the globe, CWS donors help us get relief to families caught up in places like the besieged city of Mosul in Iraq. Through ACT Alliance, CWS is delivering relief supplies to some of the most vulnerable people in these conflicts. And the Christian agencies we are connected to in Iraq are embedded

in local communities. That means they are experts at navigating local conditions, and can make sure aid gets to those who need it most. Since 1945, in the aftermath of World War II, CWS has enabled Aotearoa New Zealand’s churches to bring hope to poor, vulnerable and displaced people wherever and whenever we can. Today that task is getting harder, as climate change, environmental degradation, scarce work opportunities and violence in communities add pressure to people’s lives. But our local partners are determined to lead the way in offering the poorest a better future. As well as working with displaced people, they train farmers to get more from their land, empower women to build sustainable livelihoods and foster peace between divided communities. Your gifts to the annual Christmas

Help us keep people alive in the shadow of war.

Appeal make much of that work possible. Help us to give hope again this Christmas, and together we can help build the world that God wants for us all. Gillian Southey is Communications Coordinator for Christian World Service. gillian.southey@cws.org.nz Please support the 2016 Christmas Appeal, Give Us Hope. For more information about our 2016 partners and to donate please go to: http://christmasappeal.org.nz/

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Shutterstock / Rawpixel.com

PA S TO R A L T H E O LO G Y

Inviting death According to Oxford psychologist and priest Jonathan Jong, the less we talk about death, the more shocking it becomes. Christians need to face our fears about death, he says, and test our ideas about what happens next – before it’s too late.

Modern society makes no time to talk about death.

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to the table

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dvent is a season for preparation. We await the birth of the Christ-child come to save us. And as birth is opposite to death, perhaps death should be far from our minds. But we know the story too well for this to be so. No retelling of the nativity is complete without the tragic memorial of Herod’s massacre of the children of Bethlehem. Thus, we keep Holy Innocents’ Day as the fourth day of Christmastide. Jesus is, of course, a Holy Innocent too. And we cannot help ourselves from forseeing his sordid future, even as he lies in the manger in this stable-cave, not so different from his eventual tomb. Perhaps it is an odd reading of Advent, to see it as a season to prepare for death.

Then again, this may only seem odd to our modern world, where we have ceased preparing for death altogether – in any season. All but gone are the various traditions that once kept mortality before us: memento mori, danse macabre and ars moriendi. These are all so foreign to us, they have no common names in English. Very few people die at home anymore. More than three quarters of us spend our final hours in hospitals or retirement homes. We have even managed to hide from ourselves the animal death that meat requires, now that food comes pre-cut and packaged. Our denial and detachment from death is bad for several reasons. Our unwillingness to think and talk about death generates a host of practical problems.


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Advance directives—those instructions about medical procedures like Do Not Resuscitate orders—are not always helpful. But the conversations with loved ones that lead up to them can help families make difficult and important decisions. Similarly, when we fail to make wills or give funeral instructions, those left behind can face distressing ambiguity. That in turn can lead to conflict and strife. We should talk more about death, however, not just for others’ sake, but for our own. It is a truism of human psychology that we fear the unfamiliar, so no amount of discussion will render death any less mysterious. But we can tame the thought of death and therefore temper the feelings conjured by reminders of our mortality. Across hundreds of studies, psychologists have shown that sudden confrontations with the thought of death can have dramatic negative effects. For example, the thought of death may incite xenophobia, misogyny or other forms of prejudice and intolerance. In a recent study, researchers found that thinking about death increased support for Donald Trump in the U.S. presidential race. So perhaps this is a fear worth trying to ameliorate. My recommended remedy is a talking cure, but not one that requires a trained therapist and a leather couch. Rather, this strategy calls for slices of cake, cups of coffee, and maybe glasses of wine. The first death café gathered in 2004, at a restaurant in the western Swiss canton of Neuchâtel. It was organised by sociologist Bernard Crettaz, whose wife had just died. He wanted to talk about death, and it turns out other people did too. In 2011, the phenomenon arrived in England, in Jon Underwood’s Hackney home. Underwood started deathcafe.com, which now lists upwards of 3,682 previous events, from Cape Town to Honolulu to Invercargill. The idea couldn’t be simpler. People gather together and talk about death. That’s it. There are some boundaries: death cafés are not grief counselling sessions, or suicide prevention support groups. Beyond this, however, no topics are off limits, and no opinion is presumed right or wrong. Although this runs the risk of too much freedom, people tend to gravitate toward particular themes: the Good Death; alternative options to burial or cremation;

ADVENT 2016

Too often the fear of death prevents us from dying well. A stone angel watches over a tomb at Invercargill East Cemetery.

organ and body donation; suicide and euthanasia; how to write a will; the likelihood or attraction of an afterlife; and symbolic immortality through children and legacy. People are often shy at first, but they get over it quickly as they begin to uncover their own feelings about death and its accoutrements. I have run death cafés in different locations: secular and religious, in coffee houses as well as churches. I have been struck by how similar these conversations have been, despite their different settings. On one hand, this is unsurprising: death is the grand equalizer, after all. On the other hand, we seem prone to reciting the same insipid platitudes. Chief among them is that death is a natural part of life – as if this detracts from this absurd tragedy that threatens to make a mockery of life. As Christians, we have to admit that Christ never met a corpse that he didn’t want to raise from the dead. But he also accepted his own death for our sake – though sweating blood to do it. And he calls us to do the same. So we Christians live with that paradox.

Christ never met a corpse that he didn’t want to raise from the dead.

For believers then, if not for others, death is a theological category. And our preparation for death is a spiritual exercise. It is not just practical, prudent and psychologically healthy to think and talk about death, but theologically and spiritually necessary. I don’t know if Advent is the best time for this, but then again, if we delay, it might well be too late. The Rev Dr Jonathan Jong is an experimental psychologist at the University of Coventry and the University of Oxford and is assistant curate at St Mary Magdalen, Oxford. jonathan.jong@anthro.ox.ac.uk Reference Jonathan Jong & Jamin Halberstadt, Death Anxiety and Religious Belief: An Existential Psychology of Religion, Bloomsbury, 2016.

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D Day – June 6, 1944 – was a pivotal day in history. Eleven months later, allied troops were celebrating the end of World War Two in Europe. In January this year, Phil Clark, the National Director of the Church Army, had his own D Day. Eleven months on from that, Lloyd Ashton began talking with him – and learning what victorious living looks like.

Onwards,

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Christian soldier

hirty-five years after Phil Clark, the National Director of the Church Army, began full-time frontline Christian service, he’s just sent this report from the

front line: “I think the Jesus thing works. “At every level. “I’ve always hoped it would. “But never really known.” “I’ve often wondered what would happen to my faith if something awful happened. “Because you can assume it’ll be OK… but you can’t actually know till you get there. “And I guess the good news is, it’s coped. “It’s survived. “At no stage did I want to walk away.” *

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Cope? Survive? Walk away? Let’s back up the truck. And reverse to April 23, 2015. That was the day when Phil “went from 5th gear to reverse. With no gear changes in between.” Having enjoyed rude good health all his life, Phil was diagnosed that day as having

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Church Army National Director Phil Clark at his Auckland home.

inoperable and terminal oesophageal cancer. Without treatment, he would die within three months. With aggressive chemotherapy and radiotherapy, he was told he would have six months. Nine months max. January 23, 2016, therefore – in Phil’s reckoning, that was D Day. Statistically speaking, he was unlucky. He didn’t smoke. Didn’t drink. There was no history of cancer in his family. He was just 53, and oesophageal cancer typically afflicts older people. “Very quickly,” he explains, “I was swept up in this process. I was going for radiotherapy every day – and the Cancer Society, the hospice, community nurses, the dietician… all these people were turning up at our home. “I didn’t actually know why half of them were there.” “I was totally stunned. I’m an introvert, and I process things internally. “But how do you process this?” *

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In December 2014 Phil began to have

difficulty swallowing. He was often on the road, staying in people’s homes – and meal times had become an embarrassment for him. He went to his GP, who suggested Phil needed lubrication. He prescribed tablets and a throat spray. That didn’t help. Over the first three months of 2015, Phil lost a third of his body weight. That’s when his GP sent him for a gastroscopy – and it was those scan results which crashed like a wrecking ball into his Papatoetoe lounge. His food wouldn’t go down because a large tumour was blocking his oesophagus. That tumour had seeded others. He was, as they say, riddled with cancer. Immediately the specialists said: "Don’t bother eating" – and Phil was fitted with a nasal feeding tube. His first brew of chemo almost killed him, and took him to the verge of kidney failure. During July and August, his speech was slurred, he had appalling diarrhoea, he couldn’t walk – and at his most wretched, Phil slept 23 hours a day. “The euthanasia debate was raging then:


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and if anyone had offered me a quick escape, I would probably have taken it. As a Christian, you know that what’s coming is so much better. “So why on earth would I cling to this horrible existence?” *

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Yet from the vantage point of late 2016 – some 10 months into his “days of grace” – Phil is profoundly grateful that no-one offered him a needle. Why? “Because it wasn’t my time – and I would have missed out on so much.” Things began to turn for the better in late September 2015. That’s when Phil, Monika and their two adult children, Michael and Emily, went away for a weekend to Matakana. “Having not eaten for five months, at breakfast on Saturday I declared: ‘I really fancy egg on toast.’ “And the wonder is, I could eat it. It stayed down. It was manna from heaven.” He bounded back to his oncologist, who OK’d a nurse to yank the feeding tube from his nose. “I was like: ‘I’m normal! I’m normal!’ Psychologically, that was a massive step forward.” Once Phil started eating again, his weight and energy levels shot up. So much so that in December, he walked a half-marathon with Emily to raise money for the Cancer Society. *

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December half-marathon or not, Phil’s doctors would not revise his prognosis. So January 23: that was still D Day. That looming deadline translated into a short-term approach to his care. For example: while he was playing family cricket last Christmas, Phil dived, Brendon McCullum style, to make a catch. He fell on his arm. Broke it, in fact. But there was to be no plaster cast. The doctors told him: “You won’t want to spend your last weeks in discomfort.” To which Phil adds his droll Yorkshire commentary: “And shutting the coffin lid may be difficult.” Sometimes, the doctors’ concern has felt downright life-denying. In February this year, for instance, Phil and Monika went to Melbourne for a church planting conference. “They said: ‘We recommend you don’t go.’ “Then in May, we went to Thailand for another conference. And they said: ‘We

At no stage have they said: ‘Look. It’s fantastic that you’re still alive.'

Emily, Phil and Monika at home in Papatoetoe.

strongly recommend you don’t go there. If you get ill, you’ll be snookered.’ “Then in August, we spent a month in Europe on a family holiday. “Just two or three days before we went, the head oncologist phoned and said: ‘I’m strongly, strongly advising you not to go. Your kidneys will fail at some stage… and blah, blah, blah.’ ” Phil and Moni went anyway. Sure, they threw the dice. And had the time of their lives. “From a medical perspective,” says Phil, “nothing has changed: I’m terminally ill. “The oncologists always say: ‘Statistically, 10 percent of people respond really well to chemo.’ “I get that. “But at no stage have they said: ‘Look. It’s fantastic that you’re still alive.’ ” *

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Make no mistake: Phil knows he owes his extended life to the oncological team. He’s equally sure that he’s being sustained “by the prayers of countless people around the world, faithfully filling up God’s inbox… “Some have said: ‘We really believe that you’re not going to die by January. ‘Don’t accept that. Reject it. It’s not from God. God says you’ve got life for longer than that.’ “I’m not someone who hears God clearly, very often. And because I wasn’t hearing that for myself… I thought: ‘Who are you to say these things? You’re not dying!’ “But looking back… I’m so grateful for those people. “I don’t want to get super spiritual. But

when an oncologist says: ‘You’re dying’ – then you start dying. Because that’s what you do as a patient: you follow instructions. “We know from what God says in the Bible. You speak things into people’s lives – and it was almost if a curse had been pronounced.” *

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Ten months after his D-Day, Phil finds himself in limbo. “There was a time,” he says, “when I was living a day at a time. My prayer was: ‘God: give me the strength for today.’ “That was right back then. But I reached a phase when I needed to live longer-term than that. “So, for example, when I bought my 2016 diary… that was a massive thing. “I can’t now live as though I’ve got two months left – and I can’t live as though I’ve got 10 years left." Phil is no longer on the Church Army payroll. He cashed in his CofE pension 12 months ago – “death is imminent” his GP wrote – and is now delighted to contribute freely to the Church Army. They’ve stood four-square with him, and he wants to give back. Nowadays, Monika is the family breadwinner. She works as the Church Army’s National Programme Co-ordinator, and as the Head of Mission and Outreach at St George’s Papatoetoe. Page 17


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Matakana, September 2015 - after eggs on toast. L-R: Emily Clark, Monika, Phil, Michael, and Amanda Weaver.

She too has felt herself borne aloft by prayer: “Many a time, when it was really dark… it was weird to have this sense of steadiness and peace and… not joy, but assuredness that tomorrow will come. “This sense that God is with us. When actually, the physical reality of our life screamed the opposite. “People would arrive with a bunch of flowers. But five minutes in they would be talking about some struggle, wanting us to minister to them. “I could do that. I thought: ‘You weird woman. What’s wrong with you?’ “And I thought: this can only be prayer.” “We’ve just had a board meeting,” says Monika. “Phil had chemo in the morning, and normally goes to bed after that. But he joined us. *

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“In the afternoons, once business is out of the way, it’s time to plan and dream. Our board loves that phase of the day.

I process things internally. But how do you process this?

“And there Philip was… it was so exciting to see him in his element, where God put him, where he was meant to be… making plans that expand His kingdom. Not airy-fairy dreamy stuff, but visions set against budgets, with plans and strategies to make things happen.” Phil pipes up: “The good thing is that we were planning with no assumption that I’ll be around. If I am, great. If not, stuff will happen anyway.” *

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For Phil, the hardest things to bear are the things as yet unfulfilled. He finds it easier to talk about the blessings he’s known since April 23, 2015. Above all, there’s his discovery that when all of life’s props are kicked away, “the Jesus thing works. At every level. “I’ve had astonishingly good health all my life. So death was like – well, yes, I’ve got my theology, I understand what I think death is all about. “But that’s just a theory. “Until suddenly, it’s reality. “You’re sitting there questioning yourself: ‘Wow. Do I actually believe that because of Jesus’ death, by grace, that I’m going to Heaven? Because this is crunch time. “And my answer was: ‘Yes, I’ve got peace about that. I’ve got peace about dying.’ “Lots of the things that we say are true – are truisms. “We always say: ‘My life is in God’s hands.’ “Whereas now, every day, that’s absolutely true.” *

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“My understanding of commitment to Jesus has crystallised. In the past, making a

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deeper commitment looked like this: ‘I’ll get up earlier and pray more. Or read an extra chapter of my Bible. Or give an extra two percent in the tithe’ – whatever. “It’s about: what I can do for God. And isn’t he lucky, really, to have me on his side? “Whereas last year… I couldn’t do anything. It was more like: ‘Here’s the deal God: I’ve got nothing at all to give you. It’s pathetic – but use me anyway.’ “My whole perspective has changed. I can’t strive anymore. I haven’t got the energy. To be removed from that… and understanding my relationship with God so differently – is wonderfully liberating. “My sense is that I’m now a profoundly different person. “I would never have chosen this. I certainly wouldn’t. “But in many ways, it’s so precious, isn’t it? *

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“One of the weird things is that people now assume I’m a cancer guru. “Anybody with cancer, I can sort them out. Which I can’t, of course. “Recently, I spoke in a church, and someone came up to me afterwards, handed me a phone and said: ‘Can you speak to my friend? He’s got cancer. He’s just been told there’s no further treatment possible.’ “If you’d have handed me that phone 18 months ago – I’d have totally freaked. “With some things in life – unless you’ve been there, you don’t know how to speak. “When we talk now, people listen. Because actually, we know. “We’re not theorists. We’re practitioners.”


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The Church Army New Zealand national directors, past and present. Phil, the Rev Brian Jenkins and Captain Peter Lloyd. Circa 2013.

Doncaster days. Emily, Phil, Michael and Monika, circa 1995.

Finding the “people of peace”

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n 1882 the Rev Wilson Carlile rallied together a bunch of soldiers, working men and women to work as Church of England evangelists among outcasts in London’s inner city slums. Carlile’s dedication was heroic, and the movement he founded is a big deal in the UK – the Church Army has more than 350 commissioned evangelists on its staff. For 18 years, Phil Clark was one of them. Then, in 2009, Phil was asked to head up Church Army work in New Zealand. When he got here, Phil found a different force – with perhaps 20 commissioned officers (who generate their own support) perhaps 30 associates who have had some training, “and a host who identify with us in some way.” Phil also found that things were struggling on the bringing-people-to-Jesus front. He got talking to an Aussie Church Army friend about this – and he challenged Phil and his team to go door-to-door. Phil hadn’t done that since he was a teenager. “I hated it then,” he says. “And I hate it now. “I’m English. My home is my castle. It’s completely unnatural. “When I walk up to a doorstep I’m

praying: ‘God: please let them be out?’” But the remarkable thing is that Phil’s ordeal is perceived. It’s not real, he says. “If we knock on 100 doors, and find one person who is a little bit hostile – as in: ‘I’m really busy’ – we’re surprised. “Most people are so polite. We find that in half the houses, people are willing to engage in a conversation. “There are many in New Zealand who are hungry for God. “Even if they wouldn’t use that kind of language, they are searching.” Errr… So what do you say then, Phil, if your ‘please let them be out’ prayer is not answered? “We say: ‘Hi. I’m Phil, this is Monika – and we’re from the local Anglican church. We’re just out and about, getting to know our neighbours.’ ” Saying you’re from the Anglican church, says Phil, buys you a hearing. “Because even if we are rubbish at evangelism, we’ve been there for a long time, and we do have Mainly Music, a food bank, a Selwyn Centre, kindy or whatever… we do that community stuff really well. “Then because we don’t want to waste

people’s time – we try to begin a spiritual conversation. “When I was young, my goal was to convert every single person I met. “Nowadays, all I’m trying to do is find those people in whom God’s already at work. “The ‘people of peace’ that Jesus speaks about in Luke 10:6. That’s all. “And if they’re not that person at this stage of their lives – fine. “We’ll just say: ‘It’s been lovely meeting you. Here’s some info about our church. If you want to get in touch any time, please do.’ “Hopefully, we leave them with a good aftertaste.”

"I'm English. My home is my castle."

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The little lad here is Phil – and that’s his big brother Steve, in about 1968. They’re on a day out here at Scarborough, in the north-east of England, checking out the mini-golf.

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Strangely enough for someone who has spent his adult life introducing people to Christ – Phil needed no such introduction himself. “I’ve needed to make sense of that,” he says. “As I’ve studied the Book of Acts, I see a number of occasions where it’s not just an individual coming to faith – it’s a whole household. A whole oikos.” Phil was born in 1961, into a Methodist family in Keyingham, 20km out of Hull. His mum and dad ran the post office there, scrimped to send him to boarding school on the west coast of England and then, when he was 18, to Hull University. Phil was the youngest of six kids, and the first Clark to make it to varsity. But that’s also when the mission ship Logos docked in Hull. And for Phil, that ship’s visit “was a shift from Jesus being at the edge, to being at the centre of my life.” To his parents’ dismay, Phil dropped out of university, and joined a Methodist mission to street people in London.

The heart of God has not changed. It's still for the lost.

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He did that for six months, then enrolled at a Bible school – then signed on as a Church Army welfare worker at a vast British Army garrison in Osnabruck, in West Germany. He was there for seven years. “I was at Osnabruck during the first Gulf War, and we lost soldiers. We also had a couple of IRA attacks. It was a good grounding in the realities of Christian faith.” He also “fell hopelessly in love”, and married Monika in 1985. In 1989, the Clarks moved back to the UK, so Phil could begin three years training at the Church Army college. That’s where Phil learned to operate in an Anglican setting. He’d enrolled, he says, because “when Jesus said: ‘The Son of Man came to seek and save the lost’ – he probably meant it. “He spoke of leaving 99 sheep to find the one sheep who was lost – yet we’ve turned that around. We look after one sheep who’s safe, and ignore the 99. “The heart of God, I think, has not changed. It’s still for the lost.” *

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In 1993, Archbishop George Carey admitted Phil to the Office of Evangelist in the Church Army, and commissioned him as a captain. He and Monika then spent five years working in grimy ex-pit communities near Doncaster, and another 13 in Huyton, in Liverpool – where, for six weekends in a row, vandals smashed the front windows of their home. The police put a toughened sheet over the glass, and fireproofed the mailbox slot. In both Doncaster and Huyton, Phil and Monika focused on children’s work. In Huyton, for example, their team was visiting 350 kids each week, and the Sunday congregation at their church – which had been on the brink of closure – grew to about 150. In 2009, out of the blue, Phil was asked to head up the Church Army’s work in New Zealand. “A whole bunch of dominoes fell at the right time. We were ready for a move.” Things were coming along nicely, too – and then came Phil’s shock diagnosis. But don’t go jumping to conclusions about that: “Because actually,” says Phil, “I think my illness has strengthened the Church Army. “Our passion for evangelism has been renewed, and people have come together to support us in a very humbling way. “There’s a sense,” he says, “of God working through, not in spite of, my illness.”

He ain’t heavy

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rchdeacon Peter Naera has been the Tikanga Maori rep on the Church Army board for seven years. So he was among the first to know about Phil’s predicament. That didn’t prepare Peter for a dream he had in August 2015. It went like this: Phil was driving Peter to his home, along a hillside, past white sandstone outcrops with a sunlit sea beneath them. The going was good – until they pulled off the road onto this long, narrow driveway. Phil lived on the top of a hill at the end of that driveway, and they drove up to a place where they saw another vehicle coming down. “There was a passing bay ahead,” says Peter, “but Phil couldn’t seem to press the accelerator to move the car into that bay. “So we abandoned the car. I carried Phil home… and I was amazed at how light he was.” That’s where Peter’s dream finished. As he pondered its meaning, he saw another opportunity to carry Phil. In October last year, he and his wife Archdeacon Marina Naera were flying to Jerusalem. They were part of a Te Tai Tokerau roopu doing a two-week course at St George’s College. So Peter sensed that he was to carry Phil through the Holy Land… before leaving his name in the Western Wall. He’d be doing that at an auspicious time, too – in OT chronology, September 2015 was the beginning of a year of Jubilee, a time of special favour. Peter talked to his mum, Ellen (she was also going to Jerusalem) about extending that opportunity to their Hokianga whanau. Peter was aiming to take 100 names. But when whaea Ellen got cracking, they gathered 1106. On Sunday, November 1, Peter and Ellen divvied the pages up. Ellen placed hers into chinks in the women’s side of the wall, while Peter did the same on the male side. The emotions hit Peter next day, when the roopu visited the Garden of Gethsemane. “Touching the stone that Jesus had wept over, and praying there… there was the sense that we’d done everything that we could do. “It was like: ‘Lord, it’s up to you now. “Your will be done. “Who are the ones who will receive favour?”


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ADVENT 2016

ETHICS & INVESTMENT

NZ Anglican Church Pension Board General Manager Mark Wilcox reports how the cluster bomb scandal affirms the role of ethics in church investments.

Ethical bombshell boosts

There’s been a sudden surge of interest.

weapon-free funds

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ecently media reports uncovered a number of KiwiSaver schemes with money in land mines and cluster bombs. The public outcry that ensued shows there are plenty of Kiwi investors who want no part in making armaments. The KiwiSaver weapons trail has turned out to be good news for funds outside the scandal. Several funds clear of bombs have faced a sudden surge of interest, including our own Koinonia KiwiSaver Scheme. While the Pension Board manages around 3000 personal retirement accounts, including for the Anglican clergy, the ethically-invested Koinonia KiwiSaver Scheme is open to all Christians. “Since the arms manufacturing links came to light, people want institutions that they can trust,” says Pension Board General Manager Mark Wilcox. This fits into a wider trend in the market, he says, where investors place ethics higher in their financial decision-making.

“In our interconnected world, people are realising that where and how money gets invested can adversely affect the lives of others – albeit indirectly.” “This is something Christians should care about.” Unlike some fund managers, filtering funds for ethical value is nothing new for the Pension Board – their current policy was first formed back in 2002, and has had several updates since. “Simply put, our ethical investment policy reflects Christian values,” says Mark Wilcox. Any links to armaments manufacturing, gaming or pornography have long since been actively shunned by the Pension Board. The Board also steers clear of companies with dubious records on environmental damage, bad industrial relations or dodgy business ethics. Still today, the Pension Board is the only superannuation fund manager in New

KOINONIA KIWISAVER SCHEME

Zealand that applies an ethical investment policy to all of its schemes and funds. One way the Pension Board increases control is by investing much of its funds directly, rather than via external funds. As well as reducing fees, this means the Pension Board can be more agile with investments, moving easily in and out of stocks as ethical categories evolve over time, “The shift in our attitude toward fossil fuel production is a classic example,” says Mark. But the Pension Board’s record proves that ethical values can still yield strong returns, “Having an ethical policy hasn’t led to any concessions on portfolio performance,” says Mark. “We evaluate our investment performance against mainstream peers and benchmarks. “And over many years, the Pension Board has gained a reputation for careful investment and stewardship.”

A scheme run by Christians for Christians www.koinonia.org.nz 0508 738 473 | info@koinonia.org.nz

The ethical KiwiSaver scheme for Christians

Contact us for a copy of the Product Disclosure Statement The New Zealand Anglican Church Pension Board is the issuer and Trustee of the Koinonia KiwiSaver Scheme

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ADVENT 2016

MYTHOLOGY

When did I see you,

Lord?

Shutterstock / NeydtStock

You don't know who you might be dealing with.

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ANGLICAN TAONGA

Max Whitaker has spent years unravelling the many stories of Jesus’ returns to earth.

Either way, one thing is certain, says Max, all these stories share the classic marks of myth. But what happens when some myths turn out to be true?

ADVENT 2016

They expected Jesus to turn up at any moment – in physical form.

Some have made the canon, but other more far-fetched yarns lie hidden in lesser-known tomes.

Y

ou probably know the story. The theology lecturer issues an exam in her students’ final week at college. When they arrive at the exam, a note in the tutor’s hand directs them to a new venue – at the opposite end of college. Late and flustered by now, they rush across the campus. On the way, a dishevelled homeless man wanders into their path, asking for help. But with their exam to catch, the students hurry by. Once they are seated in the exam, the homeless man appears again, at the door. This time, he throws off his old coat to reveal his true identity – as principal of the college. The students have failed the real exam, of course. Not one of them stopped to listen, or to care for the stranger. *

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Now, it's most likely this never happened. But like any myth, this story will emerge in different times and places, changing slightly as it goes. In another version, the minister arrives at a new church on the first Sunday of his stint. But instead of heading to the altar, he slips in at the back wrapped in a dirty old blanket – only to be ignored by his parishioners eagerly awaiting his arrival. Eventually, the new vicar reveals who he is, and the congregation learns a valuable lesson. Again, it’s unlikely this ever happened. But folklorogists tell us that these kinds of tales follow patterns that will make sense not only to us, but across many cultures and era. In Roman myth, the gods Jupiter and Mercury took the form of beggars, and rewarded the peasants that welcomed them in. In Greek Epic, Odysseus returned

home disguised as a beggar – to have some treat him well, and others behave abysmally. In fairy tales, princes and regents check their subjects’ loyalty by masquerading as paupers that badmouth the king. In mediaeval piety plays, saints might charade as strangers – to test which villagers are true followers of Christ. Each time the moral lesson is clear: be careful how you treat beggars and outsiders – because you don’t know who you might be dealing with. Knowing all that, I quickly dismissed the ‘vicar dressed as a beggar’ as just another tale. But to my surprise, one crafty cleric had actually sprung that ruse on an unsuspecting flock. On that Sunday morning, a character stepped out of myth and brought an archetypal story into the real world. Perhaps the vicar knew the myths and chose to bring one to life? If he did, he was not the first. Jesus often chose storytelling forms, like parables, to teach his followers. But in Luke’s gospel, myth breaks into reality when Jesus treads the road to Emmaus. Remember how the disciples failed to recognise their Lord as they walked together? Perhaps it’s because he was in disguise. Maybe he looked like a foreigner, or even a poor foreigner. Jesus the stranger made it clear he had no place to stay – and looked set to walk on into the night, until the disciples chose to invite him in. Once more, the lowly subjects prove themselves worthy, by caring for their king in disguise. But when Jesus walked to Emmaus, a real person stepped out of myth and into reality. The Word became flesh once more. Though only hinted at in the gospels, this ‘Jesus in disguise’ was popular in early Christian literature. In the Gospel of Judas, Jesus walks

among his disciples as a child. In the Acts of John Jesus appears as an old man to some, a young man to others. In the Acts of Thomas, Jesus appears, then sends Thomas to India, and in the Acts of Andrew and Matthias, Jesus helps his disciples, while disguised as a sailor. These writers, and the Christians they lived among, didn’t view the Ascension as a one way trip, nor Pentecost as a final hand over. They expected Jesus to turn up at any moment, in physical form: perhaps to test how they might treat the stranger, beggar or foreigner. For these early Christians, who expected Jesus’ return at any moment, his words were no metaphor: “truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” It was not as though they had seen Jesus as a stranger and invited him in… it really was Jesus, in a disguised form, appearing like Jupiter and Mars did to Philomon and Baucus, or as the vicar to his unsuspecting congregation. For the writers of the apocryphal gospels and Acts, the Word was alive in the flesh, and ancient mythology still broke into the here and now. Though many stories of Jesus’ return never made it to Holy Scripture, the imagination of those ancient writers can still challenge us. How would we behave, if we believed that Jesus really could and did appear among us? As a foreigner, a beggar, a single parent on a benefit, a gang member, a bank manager, or… anyone at all? How would it change our actions if we thought it might be Jesus before us, not just the metaphor, but really Jesus there in front of us? Perhaps this Advent it is worth giving that thought a try… Rev Dr Max Whitaker gained his PhD in New Testament from Otago University for his research into Jesus’ post-resurrection appearances. He serves as an assistant priest in the parish of North Invercargill. mrmaxwhitaker@gmail.com

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ADVENT 2016

SOCIAL JUSTICE

When all things Paul Barber from the New Zealand Council for Christian Social Services meets a Kiwi family living on the knifeedge of poverty – and uncovers what makes their daily life such a struggle.

This country's wealth doesn't turn up in most people's pay packets.

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are not equal

M

egan is a thirty year-old mum who works hard and loves her two kids. But week in, week out she struggles to get by on the

basics. She’s been in and out of work over the years, but it’s exhausting juggling work and childcare on her own. Work and Income don’t make it much better. It's soul destroying to front up there, only to suffer humiliating assessments, and then come out empty-handed. Though Megan is a diligent budgeter, she finds that children don’t always comply with budgets: they get sick, they have accidents, and things get lost or broken. Then there are school trips, uniforms and shoes. Not to mention birthdays.

Megan tries to save on food, even missing a meal now and then if need be, so that the children can eat. Sometimes they visit the food bank, but that’s embarrassing. Megan’s parents would like to help, but don’t have much to spare. The children’s father is out of the picture, which is probably just as well. Megan left that abusive scene when her second was still a baby. The rental on the family’s house – which is damp, cold and partially-insulated – sucks up most of Megan’s income. The leaky roof isn’t helping her youngest child either, whose cough went on all winter. She phones the landlord about repairs, but he never seems to get them done. It’s the family’s third rental home in five years. The first two were sold beneath


ANGLICAN TAONGA

Christmas is a tough season for many Kiwi families. But does it have to be that way? Chelsea McGaw and her daughters look through rows of toys at The Warehouse.

them, disrupting the children’s school lives, and breaking ties with neighbours. Megan does the best she can, but can’t see a way out of living day to day like this. “Christmas isn’t far away. I don’t even want to think about how I’ll find presents for the kids. If only I could get a steady job, a decent house and save up for something like a trip or new clothes…” *

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Today, thousands of New Zealanders live like Megan does. But many Kiwi onlookers find it hard to fathom. Talkback radio runs hot with New Zealanders failing to compute these stories of hardship. “Obviously she doesn’t know how to budget, ”callers say, “They must be spending money on drugs or alcohol, ” or, “They probably don’t know how to cook. ” But the most common response is, “It was hard for us too, but we managed to get by… ” What few callers realise is that thirty years ago families like Megan’s were on a fairer share of the nation’s income than she is today. We can turn back the clock to find out why. Between the 1950s and 1980s New Zealand governments invested more in supporting people on lower incomes, and the wealthy backed that up through the tax system. While society was by no means equal back then, especially for Maori and Pacific families, law changes through the 1980s and 90s have skewed the way we divide the nation’s wealth even further. Our nation’s total income hasn’t fallen since the 80s, in fact it has grown. But now the benefits of that extra wealth go mostly to the wealthiest. Changes to our taxes, benefits, employment laws and top salary rates, have dished out huge personal gains to our highest income earners, while funnelling them away from the poorest. On roughly $30,000 per year, families

ADVENT 2016

like Megan’s – in the lowest fifth of Kiwi incomes – take the heaviest losses. If our nation's wealth were shared more fairly across the income levels today, in line with how it was thirty years ago, Megan would be $5,500 per year better off. That’s $100 more per week. But compare Megan’s story to a Kiwi in the top 10% of incomes today. In 2015, households on $152,000 per annum have become $51,000 wealthier than they would have been with their 1981 income share. What threw Kiwi incomes so far off balance? Back between 1986 and 1988, the government chopped back the public contributions of top income earners, slashing the highest income tax rate from 66% to 33%. Then in 1991, Finance Minister Ruth Richardson took money out of the lowest income households by cutting welfare benefits by up to 20%. Benefits rose only sluggishly for forty years till this year, when the government granted the first minor benefit gains. The next sting for low-paid workers came in 1991 with the Employment Contracts Act. The Act dismantled compulsory unionism, which had automatically funded union advocates for workers’ rights. Instead, bakers and bank clerks, cleaners and kitchenhands now have to bargain alone with employers’ lawyers or human resources squads. Job security and guaranteed minimum conditions slipped away in the Act’s wake. Now, Kiwis are working hard and producing more, but low and middle income earners haven’t seen our country’s growing wealth turn up in their pay packets. Instead, company CEOs and senior managers grant themselves limitless salary hikes, with top public managers’ pay rates closely following suit. ANZ Bank CEO David Hisco now takes out $4 million per annum. And after Italy, our public sector CEOs and senior managers are the highest paid in the OECD. So the lowest income earners suffer most from inequality. But even the wealthiest are not immune.1 Big income and wealth imbalances eat away at social

Mummy, mummy, can I have that one?

It was hard for us too, but we managed to get by...

trust and empathy, leaving the country less healthy and more divided. Inequality raises people’s stress levels and attacks mental health. Where low quality food is cheapest, inequality leads to obesity. It forces people into bad housing or into the streets, and our children get sick with poverty-related diseases like rheumatic fever. Prisons, meanwhile, fill up with inmates who have little to lose. Where to now? The good news is, it doesn’t have to be this way. Our politicians changed the rules, and they can change them again. But only if we decide we want our country to be a fairer place. We once thought compassion and fairness were central to Kiwi DNA. And there’s no doubt they are core to our Christian faith. But how do they inform the way we choose to live together?

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ADVENT 2016

HOUSING & POVERTY

Not even the wealthiest Kiwis are immune.

Income inequality is tough on the poor, but middle income earners have less too. Chelsea and her girls walk the isles looking for the smartest buys.

Some changes are obvious: like raising the minimum wage, or promoting the Living Wage as a socially responsible standard for business. And we could set limits on wages, like the Canadian Wage Mark Foundation’s suggests in its 8:1 ratio, where senior managers are paid no higher than eight times the lowest worker’s wage.2 And if we call for the nation’s wealthiest to pay their fair share of taxes, then there’s more for health, education, housing and welfare.

If we invest better in our children, they will grow up to become better contributors to society, which helps us all. At Christmas time, we celebrate the hope that Jesus’ birth brings to the world. Jesus still calls us today, to hope in the Kingdom of God – not as some ‘pie in the sky’ hope - but as something we long for and work for every day: in what we decide to value, and in our actions.

Notes 1. A household of four now on 60K per annum would be $7K better off per year, had our tax and income rates remained on a more even keel. To plug in your income and plot how greater equality would effect you, go to: http://www.inequality.org.nz 2. In a company where the lowest paid workers earnt the Living Wage, the 8:1 ratio would limit the CEO’s salary to $320K. 3. Megan’s story is an amalgamation of several people’s real experiences, she is not one person.

Paul Barber is a policy advisor for the New Zealand Council of Christian Social Services (NZCCSS). paul.barber@nzccss.org.nz

Christmas 2016 APPEA L

Pull quote

ATWC’s integrated Family, Early Education and Social Work services and programmes help to protect, nurture and provide opportunities for up to 3,000 children, young people and their families across Auckland. We had over 2,500 thumbs up last Christmas from kids like these all over Auckland thanks to all our Joy Warriors who gave so generously!

LET’S DO IT AGAIN FOR 2016!

K the joy this Christmas to children in real need. You can A N dropSpread H T !!! off new presents for children ages 0-16 to our reception at: 10 Beatty St, Otahuhu Mon-Fri 8am-4:30pm. U YO For more info please call Melissa on 027 456 1278 or email MelissaC@atwc.org.nz

For further information please contact: ATWC, 10 Beatty Street, PO Box 22-363 Otahuhu 1062 Phone: 09 276 3729 Email: info@atwc.org.nz

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ADVENT 2016

JStone / Shutterstock.com

paintings / Shutter

stock.com

POLITICS

Life After Trump: Democracy Democracy in the USA

I

n the week leading to the US presidential election I found myself listening to a lot of Leonard Cohen – not knowing that this week was to be his last. I began with a song from his newest album, ‘Steer Your Way’. But my week ended with an older anthem, ‘Democracy’, on high rotation: ...from the war against disorder from the sirens night and day from the fires of the homeless and the ashes of the gay: Democracy is coming to the U.S.A. For all its tongue-in-cheek, Democracy is a hopeful song, a wager that the evils of violence, inequality and social stratification will be the birth pangs of a new covenant and a true democracy. And that, I guess, is what many of us hoped for in this election. As Trump droned his rhetoric, and his personal history proved ever more loathsome, we waited in anticipation: surely the American people’s basic decency would rise to the fore? Surely, Love would Trump hate? “When they go low, we go high,” as Michelle Obama memorably put it. Surely. Except that’s not how it turned out. Voters acted out of fears for the future, rage at the stagnant economy, and nostalgia for the-world-that-was. Then they chose further sirens and further war against disorder.

Maybe President Trump will surprise us all, but based on his rhetoric, social division is here to stay. This vote feels epoch-changing, threatening to overturn the western commitment to cooperation between nations that has been in place since World War II. Last week, the line from ‘Democracy’ I hummed the most was this: It’s there the family’s broken and it’s there the lonely say that the heart has got to open in a fundamental way... I’ll keep humming that line, because the new covenant depends on its radical reopening of the heart. When our hearts open in a fundamental way there is hope for humanity. But this week’s lessons suggest that when assailed by crisis and fear, our instinct is to do the opposite. Karl Barth discovered that back at the outbreak of World War I, but 100 years later, it seems we’ve largely forgotten his lesson. So where is the church in all this? Would I, as a preacher and pastor, be complicit if someone unleashed Brexit or Trump-style fears in New Zealand? Is my species of Mainline Protestantism guilty of wishful thinking, when we assume that human decency will triumph over racism and fear of scarcity? I suspect so. There’s no doubt our hearts must open in a fundamental way: to people who are marginalised or criminalised, or to

Out of fear, they chose war against disorder...

migrants, or Muslims. But they won’t open of their own accord. We need the influence of divine grace, if our fears are to turn into faith. And fearful hearts need a church brave enough to preach in word and action what Jesus asks of us: to open our hearts, even to our enemies, to repent and join him on the adventure that is the kingdom of God. Surely that’s the kingdom Leonard Cohen yearned for, that we all yearn for. And Jesus told us where to find it. Many years ago, T.S. Eliot posed a question in his ‘Choruses from the Rock’, “Has the church failed mankind? Or has mankind failed the church?” Too often I’ve been inclined to blame my fellow humans. But as I look into my heart this week, I see which part of the responsibility lies with me. Am I sitting around, waiting for hardened hearts in my society to soften? Or am I sharing with others what I have discovered? Am I telling them that my heart burns within me when I walk with Jesus on the road? Rev Tim McKenzie is priest in charge of Miramar Peninsula Parish in the Diocese of Wellington. vicar@mssanglican.org.nz

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ADVENT 2016

C H I L D R E N & YO U T H

Growing together as disciples It’s time to move from teaching kids ‘about’ God, says Diana Langdon. Instead let’s invite them into a faithful, loving community of disciples – that will value all they have to offer.

You can't guide someone you don't know...

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G

rowing up in the Church of England, I learnt how to speak and act like a good little Anglican. A keen member of Sunday school and youth group, I could recite the Nicene Creed at a young age, and served as an acolyte in Sunday morning services. However in my first year in university, studying at King’s College London, I had to confront a difficult truth. Despite all that history of growing up in church, I had no real idea of the Bible, and could not articulate what Jesus meant to me. My faith, it seemed, had no depth at all. How could that have happened? As I made new friends in the Christian Union, they introduced me to a lifechanging gift: grace. Then they walked alongside me, sharing their faith with me, teaching me how to unpack the scriptures and to pray. They showed me how to live generously: to hope and persevere. And as they modelled discipleship, they gave me those tools to take with me and pass on to others.

So in many ways, I am here now despite growing up in an Anglican church. Attending church then, is no guarantee our children will grow as authentic disciples of Christ. So where and how do we begin, and how do we start to think beyond events and programmes? Our aim should be to foster an authentic culture of discipleship. Not only for the kids, but for all of us. In his book Making Disciples in Messy Church1, Paul Moore lays out three ways for disciples to learn: in formal, informal and social settings. Most churches stick with the formal route: we adopt a school model to teach about God. As Episcopalian author Gretchen Wolff Pritchard2 notes, this means: “Adults come to church … to worship, and children come to Sunday school to acquire information.” We forget that, like us, our children are worshippers and followers of God. A small child learns to talk by listening and imitating others, and an apprentice learns by trying new skills on the job.


ANGLICAN ANGLICANTAONGA TAONGA ADVENT ADVENT2016 2016

Likewise, the child growing up in a faith community marked by loving relationships will practice ‘immersed discipleship’ as they observe, imitate and mature in their faith.

Bringing it all together This year, our national children, youth and young adults’ enablers pinpointed discipleship as a top need for all our children, teens and young adults. Strandz has five key values as part of our vision for children and families, which give clues on how to reshape churches as disciple-making communities. Discipleship is the glue that holds these values together.

Becoming Kingdom pilgrims If we see ourselves as pilgrims headed for the Kingdom, we can recognise children as partners in faith, as full members of the body of Christ. Becoming Jesus’ disciple should never depend on age or stage, on how bright or what height you are. When adults assume they hand faith down to children, we forget that children already know God in ways that adults cannot imagine. Children can see God – at times and in ways only visible to adults who take the time to look through the child’s eyes.

Strategic Faith formation To nurture sturdy faith that matures with each child, we need to attend to where they are up to in their own spiritual journey. Preschoolers meet God in different ways to primary-aged children, and

intermediate-aged kids have different spiritual needs to teens or young adults. The challenge is to lead children to know God themselves at every stage. Ask yourself: How will your children have met God by the time they leave primary school? Is your church staying tuned to their discipleship needs? Getting to know the children in your church comes first. You can’t guide someone you don’t know, and especially if they don’t like you. Where have they been? Who are they now? And where are they heading in the next phase of their life? When you answer these questions you will know where to look for the right tools to add to your discipleship kit.

Intergenerational faith communities A healthy church brings everyone into its family, so that all ages work together for the common goal of promoting spiritual growth. Intergenerational discipleship needn’t be complicated or too spiritual either – it arises from relationships, with one another, and with God. Children need five consistent adults outside their family who will share their faith. Older congregation members could fill one of those roles if your church makes space for friendships to blossom. A retired mechanic might not know a 10-step discipleship programme, but could show church teenagers how to care for their first car, and share faith along the way. In one Wellington church, the all-age ukulele group lets parishioners express their faith through music – across the generations. Keep it simple.

Friendly grown-ups help children during the Diocese of Wellington's mission hui.

Children already know God in ways that adults cannot imagine.

Partnering with families Resourcing, encouraging and empowering parents to nurture their children’s faith are some of the church’s greatest challenges – and privileges. Since churches aren’t with kids for much time each week, tools like Faith Box, Faith 5 and Orange3 can help parents encourage kids as disciples at home. It’s not difficult, but scheduled times to remember God’s role in our everyday lives can make a big difference: at meal times, bed time, drive time or bath time. We also need to think critically about how families encounter God together in church. Do we leave the kids in a corner with a colouring sheet while adults worship? Or do we separate them off from one another?

Whānau God is at work in our local schools, workplaces and community groups. Like sports coaches that stick to the sidelines rather than jumping into the game, we can cheer disciples on, support them in their choices and help name where God is at work in their lives. None of these approaches are addons, or extras, but together they show how we can walk with children as disciples of Christ, growing in our faith together. Diana Langdon works as enabler for Strandz, the Tikanga Pakeha children and families’ ministry hub. diana@strandz.org.nz Notes 1. Paul Moore, Making Disciples in Messy Church, BRF publishing, UK, 2013. 2. Gretchen Wolff Pritchard, Offering the Gospel to Children, Cowley Publications, 1992. 3. http://www.faithbox.co.nz, Faith5.org, http:// thinkorange.com

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ADVENT 2016

HOUSING

Selwyn Foundation makes big moves in Auckland

T

he Selwyn Foundation is about to dramatically expand its work in Auckland. Next year, a joint venture between Selwyn and the Auckland Council will take over managing the council’s 1412 pensioner flats. Those units, which are spread across 63 ‘villages’ around the city, are home to about 1500 of Auckland’s most vulnerable older people – who don’t own homes of their own, and can’t afford to rent on the private

It's about securing people's futures – and enhancing their wellbeing.

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market. The new venture won’t just be collecting the rent and fixing leaky taps, either. Because many of the flats are run down – their average age is 46 years – and in some cases, they need more than a spruceup. Their hallways may not be not wide enough for walking frames, for example. And because communities change, the villages may no longer be in the right places. They may be blocks away from bus stops, shops and doctors’ rooms. So that as-yet-unnamed partnership will manage the existing units and ensure that, over time, they’re all brought up to scratch. It’ll have a say, too, in any redevelopment of the villages – and in when, where and how new villages are built. *

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Midway through last year, the Auckland Council called for proposals to enter a joint venture. Seven operators – including a couple from the UK and Australia – submitted bids, and Selwyn was successful. The council still owns the assets – the

1412 units, and the 26ha on which they stand. But the new joint venture will lease those assets, with Selwyn Foundation holding a 51 percent stake, and the Auckland Council 49 percent. Selwyn’s CEO, Garry Smith, says its new partnership “unlocks greater potential for The Selwyn Foundation to help and support a much larger proportion of our older population. “And it’s as much about securing the futures of older people and enhancing their wellbeing, as it is about housing.” *

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The council’s new property arm, Panuku Development Auckland, will tackle any redevelopment work – and it plans to make the properties work harder. In fact, Panuku plans to double the total number of houses on the sites1. The council has given a firm promise to keep at least the number of pensioner flats it already owns. But Panuku’s scoping studies have convinced them that they don’t need 26ha to house 1500 elderly tenants.


ANGLICANTAONGA TAONGA ADVENT ADVENT2016 2016 ANGLICAN

So some of the villages will be redeveloped into what the council calls “mixed communities” – with some land sold for what Panuku Director David Rankin calls “affordable and market-priced homes”. The sale of those properties will pay for the redevelopment costs. *

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Kevin Lamb is the CEO of Age Concern Auckland – and he’s optimistic about the development proposals he’s seen so far. For example, the council owns Wilsher Village, which had 68 low-rise units on a 1.6 hectare site in Henderson Valley Rd. Those units have already been demolished. In their place, Panuku will develop a four-storey block of 40 pensioner flats – with the wider site potentially holding more than 200 homes and apartments. “They’ve presented the design brief to us,” says Kevin, “and I was impressed – they can effectively create bigger, better quality, new and more suitable units for older people on a smaller footprint. “And then the sale of the surrounding areas for development effectively covers the costs of the redevelopment. So there’s no additional cost to the tax payer, or rate payer. “So we are cautiously supportive that they are going in the right direction, and doing the right things.” Overall, says Kevin, “we can see some real benefits in the council working closely with a more community-minded organisation for the management of their housing for older people.” *

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So what’s really driving all these changes? First, John Key wants to shrink the state’s direct involvement in social housing. He wants to diversify. Then, let’s note that Housing NZ owns about 67,000 homes – whose tenants pay rentals capped at 25 percent of their income. And the difference between what these state tenants pay, and the rentals those properties would command on the market, is covered by a payment called the ‘Income Related Rent Subsidy’. IRRS for short. The IRRS doesn’t go to the tenants, though. It goes to the landlord – and that landlord, till now, has only ever been

Housing NZ. You can imagine that with 67,000 rental homes and flats, there’s big money involved. “What changed in 2014,” says Nic Blakeley, who heads MSD’s Social Policy Group, “was that the government made that subsidy available not just to Housing New Zealand, but also to Community Housing Providers.” (CHPs for short.) But here’s the twist – the government has decided that councils (ie the landlords of the ‘council flats’) will not be recognised as CHPs. They’ve been excluded, says Nic Blakeley, because making the IRRS available to them “would be an extra cost – and wouldn’t be housing any more people. Because people in council flats are existing tenants, in existing housing.”2 So now the IRRS will be available to CHPs (but not councils) – but for new tenants, only. But remember: in this story, we’re talking about housing for the elderly. So in a relatively short time – as existing council flat tenants die – new tenants will replace them. And so more of these IRRS subsidies will flow through to CHPs for the provision of social housing. The kinds of joint ventures that Selwyn and the Auckland Council have formed are recognised as CHPs. And all around the country, wherever councils own pensioner flats, they’re popping up. *

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Richard Northey is a former MP and Auckland councillor who serves on the Auckland Council’s Seniors Advisory Panel. He welcomes the prospect of the new Selwyn/Auckland venture being able to tap into extra income to plough back into pensioner housing – because the needs of the elderly are becoming more pressing, he says. “We’re entering a period in which older adults will finish work not owning their homes, relatively poor, and without the assets nearly all of us my age own – ie, a mortgage-free home. “So I think it’s important that the council actually put some more resources into this form of housing as their contribution to making housing more affordable.” And Age Concern’s Kevin Lamb says the coming challenges over housing for older people are a looming reality.

Selwyn snapshot • The Selwyn Foundation was born out of the Auckland City Mission’s desire, in the earlier part of last century, to provide housing for the vulnerable needy. Its flagship site, Point Chevalier’s Selwyn Village, opened in 1954. • In 2013, The Selwyn Foundation had 584 retirement village units, and 712 rest home and hospital beds. It offers residential care (rest home, hospital and dementia care) independent living accommodation and community services. • It operates nine villages across the upper North Island – from Cambridge to Whangarei. • It is a not-for-profit registered charitable trust – and any surpluses it generates are reinvested into new facilities for the aged, or in charitable work to help the aged. • The foundation also lets, at charitable rates, 31 cottages across its villages, and 11 suites within its Selwyn House complex in Birkenhead. The tenants of these units pay around 30 to 35 percent of their superannuation in rent. • Selwyn has also teamed up with parishes to set up 43 Selwyn Centres in Anglican churches throughout Auckland, Waikato, Northland and Christchurch. A Selwyn Centre offers a weekly ‘drop-in’ event, with activities designed to bring old people together, and tackle loneliness and isolation. • It also administers two funds for its residents (and Selwyn Centre guests) who can’t afford essentials for healthy living – such as dental work, hearing aids and spectacles. In the last 18 months, $52,027 has been paid out for these things. • The Selwyn Foundation also supports various other charitable and not-for-profit groups working with older people in the community. It’s one of the main benefactors of The Hope Foundation – which is a registered charitable trust which sponsors research on ageing and its effects on the New Zealand community – and contributes to the National Dementia Cooperative; the New Zealand Association of Gerontology; the New Zealand Faith Community Nursing Association; the Auckland City Mission, Te Pihopatanga o Te Tai Tokerau and the Whangarei Anglican Care Trust.

Including the grants given to support the 43 Selwyn Centres, this funding amounted to more than $800,000 in 2015.

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ANGLICAN TAONGA

ADVENT 2016

HOUSING

We’ve got a huge demographic bubble coming.

Next year, a joint venture between The Selwyn Foundation and the Auckland Council will take over managing the council’s 1412 pensioner flats. Those units are spread across 63 ‘villages’ around the city – including the one shown here: Bentley Court, in Glenfield.

“We’ve got a huge demographic bubble coming, where we’re almost doubling the numbers of people over 65.” Kevin says the traditional model of saving for retirement – “you pay off the mortgage on the family home, you get

to retirement age, you downsize, release equity, which pays for your retirement” is breaking down. More and more, he says, people haven’t been able to pay off their mortgages by the time they retire.

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And they’re also finding that downsizing may not work – because that smaller place now costs too much. Increasingly, too, says Kevin, people never own their homes. “They’re continually renting. And they’re arriving at retirement age still renting, and that creates challenges. “So we are seeing more and more older people struggling with their accommodation needs. “Suitable housing stock simply isn’t there – but the demand is increasing.” Selwyn’s CEO Garry Smith says those pressures are why the Foundation was interested in the joint venture with Auckland Council. “We felt that this took us to the core of why Selwyn began, 60 plus years ago – looking after vulnerable older people in our community.” – Lloyd Ashton Notes 1. It’s understood the existing properties have already been assessed and put into three categories: The largest group are fit for purpose, and just need ongoing maintenance. There’s a second group which needs total redevelopment, and a third group of properties which are not suitable to keep. 2. The flats which Selwyn will now manage are all on Auckland’s North Shore, and in West and South Auckland. There are none in Auckland’s central isthmus – because in 2002, the council, under its then mayor, John Banks, sold all 1542 pensioner flats to Housing New Zealand. The flats in the North, West and South came into the equation when Auckland became a ‘supercity’ in 2010.


ANGLICAN TAONGA

ADVENT 2016

RELIGION & VIOLENCE

Stepping back Democracy Defrom the brink

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hen extremist groups like ISIL or Boko Haram commit terrorist acts in the name of religion, we often hear Islamic leaders defend their faith by saying, “My religion is a religion of peace.” “That answer is not enough,” said WCC head Dr Olav Fykse Tveit on 7 October as he opened a lecture on religion and violence co-hosted by Otago University’s Centre for Theology and Public Issues, and Department of Peace and Conflict Studies. “Neither can we say that only the abuse of religion leads to violence,” he said. “Because then we don’t take seriously that in most religions there are dimensions that can lead to totalitarianism.” Olav, a Lutheran pastor from Norway, detailed the dangers that extremism presents for religious groups, whether Hindu, Islamic, Buddhist or Christian. He turned to a Norwegian extremism prevention project to describe the characteristics of extremist groups. Religious extremists tend to: • Believe they are alone in interpreting their religion correctly. • Believe they cannot cooperate with others that think differently – even though they may belong to the same tradition. • Are convinced that some groups of people are impossible to coexist with, and must therefore be opposed, or removed from society as a whole or from certain places. • Believe that those they oppose are not entitled to the same human dignity as right believers, and that human rights do not apply to them. • Predetermine the religious or ethical opinions of others, disallowing the other

to define who they are or what they believe. • Use hate language, violence and even terror to impose their religious views on others. The complex character of extremism means it cannot be tackled on a single front, Olav said. Instead we need to look for multiple ‘entry points’ that may undermine its closed mindset. People of faith can counteract extremism, Olav added, if they see their religion as an inexhaustible source of human flourishing, justice and peace. For Christians, the true test of faith in word or action is whether it leads to hope – the hope that our saviour brought into the world. Six weeks before he came to New Zealand, Olav flew into Nigeria to open the International Centre for Inter-Faith Peace and Harmony in Kaduna where up to 20,000 people have been killed in recent interreligious conflicts. The Nigerian Centre provides space where both Muslim and Christian victims can tell their stories and listen to voices from the other side. Too often, said Olav, victims’ storytelling only fuels new rounds of violence. “Both in counselling and in wider conflicts… victims of violence often don’t find a way out without becoming perpetrators,” he said. But that can suddenly change when both sides are heard. And when faith leaders meet together and listen to victims from both sides, they can begin to feel accountable for one another’s people and discover a new solidarity. In the weekend before he set down in Aotearoa, Olav had done just that – by meeting with Egypt’s top Sunni Islamic scholar, Prof. Ahmad Al-Tayyeb, Grand

Olav Fykse Tveit.

We cannot say that only abuse of religion leads to violence.

Imam of Al-Azhar al Sharif. Olav reported his surprise at how easily the two leaders had agreed on a way ahead. Both condemned violence in the name of religion – as blasphemy against God – and committed to concrete steps toward a just peace. “… if religious people can be honest with each other about the ways in which religion has been used to underpin violence, we can also find ways together for religion to be part of the solution," Olav said after the meeting. He believes that to break down extremism, local religious communities need to dismantle barriers that turn people into ‘us’ and ‘them,’ by building bridges: between women, men and youth across different belief groups. We can also teach respect for others in theological education, share faith traditions, and protect one another’s people and holy places. And most important of all is to practice non-violence in our own families and communities. The WCC brings together churches, denominations and church fellowships in more than 110 countries and territories throughout the world, representing over 500 million Christians and including most of the world's Orthodox churches, scores of Anglican, Baptist, Lutheran, Methodist and Reformed churches, as well as many United and Independent churches. Member churches are in Africa, Asia, the Caribbean, Europe, the Americas, the Middle East and the Pacific. There are now 348 member churches, including the Anglican Church in Aotearoa, New Zealand and Polynesia.

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Shutterstock / Dmitry Naumov

The General Secretary of the World Council of Churches, the Rev Dr Olav Fykse Tveit, cautions churches here to oppose religious extremism before it gets out of hand.


ANGLICAN TAONGA

ADVENT 2016

ANGLICAN SCHOOLS

Anne van Gend revels in Anglican schools’ success on the choral stage this year, and explores what gives our choirs their edge.

Sound teaching that Diocesan School for Girls' St Cecilia Singers at The Big Sing finale in Dunedin Town Hall, 2016.

rings true

I They had screaming fans and wild applause at every Big Sing.

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n August this year, 860 students from 21 schools hit the high notes at Aotearoa New Zealand’s annual choral festival finale, ‘The Big Sing’. That might seem a hefty turnout for a Kiwi sing-off, but before the finalists made it to Dunedin’s Town Hall, up to 10,000 had already sung their best from Whangarei to Fairlie, Taranaki to Timaru, scooping regional prizes on the way. By the national finale, judges were left with only the finest 21 troupes, out of 270 entries. The good news at this year’s Big Sing, was that one third of those finalist schools were Anglican.

Let’s put that in context. New Zealand has 367 secondary schools, but only 22 are Anglican. That’s roughly 1 in 25. But 1 in 3 schools joining this year’s choral glitterati were Anglican: Auckland’s Diocesan School for Girls, Dilworth School (Auckland), Woodford House (Havelock North), Chilton St James (Hutt Valley), Christ’s College (Christchurch), Craighead Diocesan (Timaru) and St Hilda’s Collegiate (Dunedin). That success rate rises well above coincidence, or the sum of decile, staff and location. So why did Anglican schools perform so


Otago Daily Times

ANGLICAN TAONGA

well? Or Presbyterian schools, for that matter, who made up another four of the finalist schools? On one level, the answer is simple. Schools that pray often, sing often. Regular chapel services fortify the sense of ‘a singing school’, says Ella Hanify, Head of Music at Chilton St James, “It’s not just an elite group of singers who “perform” in our schools, everyone gets involved.” So when Anglican schools meet to worship: once, twice or more times each week, their choirs get chances to sing – and a reason to exist beyond the next competition. Anglican school choirs know their purpose too: to enhance worship, and to lead hearts, minds and souls towards God. Meanwhile, Anglican Church traditions give wings to choral conductors’ skills. “Often Anglican school choir directors are strongly involved in national choirs: like Voices NZ, NZ National Youth Choir, and NZ Secondary Students’ Choir,” says Shona McIntyre-Bull, director of Auckland Diocesan School for Girls Big Sing gold winners, the St Cecilia Singers. “But many are also involved in top-level church and cathedral music around the country.” At the same time as broadening their scope, that spiritual base changes the schools’ singing cultures. Each year the Big Sing adjudicators identify one choir that best embodies the spirit of the festival. In 2016, Dilworth School’s choir Fortissimo received that distinction in the Ambassador’s Award. According to Dilworth old boy and vocal tutor Nathan Hauraki, Fortissimo was greeted with screaming fans and wild applause at every Big Sing appearance. But back at Dilworth, choral music is not just about winning prizes or admirers. “Music and singing are an integral part

ADVENT 2016

October 2016: St Hilda's chapel choir sing with St Paul's Cathedral singers. Visible front row L-R: Victoria Tong, Natalie Storm, Maddie Guthrie and Kaya Fukushima. Dilworth School's 'Fortissimo' gear up at the Big Sing in 2016.

of the school,” says Dilworth chaplain, Rev Warren Watson. Music-making can challenge students in faith, says Warren, and strengthen their sense of Christian community. And plenty of times those high school highlights don’t fade. I’ll never forget a bewildered father who turned up at school looking for a hymnbook. His daughter, who otherwise showed no interest in religion, had asked for a copy as her 21st birthday present. What those school songs gave her, she had failed to find anywhere else. Another gift of singing in choirs is the sense of belonging that comes from becoming one in a body of sound. To achieve that, each singer must attune to the others. If one part falters or falls behind, the whole choir takes a dive. That’s when the choir itself becomes most like the Body of Christ. And when that choir sings to God, though

That spiritual base changes the singing culture.

each voice alone is imperfect, together they can reach the sublime. That’s why a well-disciplined, sensitive and harmonious choir – at its best – is both a sign of God’s Kingdom and the chance for a glimpse of heaven. No wonder the judges like the sound of that. Rev Anne van Gend is Director of the Anglican Schools Office. anglicanschoolsnz@gmail.com

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ANGLICAN TAONGA

ADVENT 2016

SPIRITUALITY

Adrienne Thompson dodges her midwinter Christmas notions to welcome the Christ-child’s arrival in summer.

When Christmas shines What does the birth of Jesus mean in this landscape, in this season?

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like the Son


ANGLICAN TAONGA

ADVENT 2016

S

un floods our sitting room. I perch on a stool to hang stained glass ornaments across the windows. A holly wreath. A snowflake. A pohutakawa bloom. Patches of coloured light, red, blue and green dance on the opposite wall. Outside, a tui chortles. I love bringing out our Christmas decorations as spring sidles towards summer and Advent begins. Many of them are historic, and look it. Some of these ornaments were crafted by little fingers nearly 30 years ago, made for a cold northern-hemisphere Christmas. Over the years we’ve added uniquely New Zealand items: a sequined takahe, a shiny fantail. Carol the summer and welcome the Christ-child goes Shirley Murray’s hymn.1 Feeling creative, a few years ago I embroidered her words on bright green cloth and surrounded them with appliques of traditional Christmas angels and singing birds of Aotearoa, with a little buzzy bee and some jingle bells added on for fun. I hang it every Advent. Yet Advent and Christmas in spring and summer are not my heritage. Christmas was always bitterly cold where I grew up. When we sang ‘Away in a manger’ I expected a fire inside, and frosty stars outside. Coming to live in New Zealand we had to re-make our family traditions, including the seasonal ones. It felt strange at first. Now it seems normal to be rejoicing in the promise of summer in December. And yet I’m still aware of a disconnect. New Zealand in general, and Christians in particular still seem to find it difficult to disentangle Christmas from the deep midwinter. In fact, biblical evidence shows us Jesus was almost certainly not born at midwinter, but in late September or early October. The first followers of Jesus don’t seem to have bothered much with his birthday. Only from the fourth century, did the winter solstice – with its celebration of light’s return at the darkest, longest night of the year – become linked with the birth of the Son of God in obscurity and humility. So, what to do about Christmas, here in Aotearoa? We can opt for historical accuracy, research the ‘true’ date of Jesus’ birth and honour that. We can acknowledge the fact that Christmas as we know it is based on northern hemisphere festivals and winter traditions from many cultures. We might choose to move Celebrating Mary and the baby Jesus amidst the life and promise of summer.

Glorious kowhai and kaka beak festoon the springtime Advent season of readiness, beginnings and hopeful waiting.

our celebration of Christmas to around our own winter solstice, in June. We can keep walking this uneasy path of trying to make traditional winter Christmas cohabit with summery Aotearoa. Santa sweats on his sleigh. Christmas cards glitter with snow. We may even decide to ignore Christmas altogether. But whether we like it or not, I’m pretty sure that December 25 will continue to be Christmas for most of the world. I am happy to go with that. I value the solidarity of the worldwide Christian community observing the birth of Jesus together. Our faith is not simply seasonal, it is historical and social. I like to remember that my friends in Bangladesh are drumming and singing on Christmas morning, even as my sister in Germany is returning from midnight mass and I am setting the table for Christmas lunch. So for me the call comes again. Learn to live here. What does the birth of Jesus mean in this landscape, in this season? Though we name the first of December as summer, it’s really still spring until we come to the solstice on the 21st. To me it seems utterly appropriate to prepare for the coming of Christ in the spring-time season of readiness, beginnings and hopeful waiting. Some of the Advent readings link with that – we hear of the new shoot springing out of an old stump,2 flowers blossoming in the desert3. They blossom in Aotearoa too: kowhai, rata, pohutakawa, poroporo and all the flowers that the Pakeha forbears brought here; the colours becoming ever more vivid and varied, like a stained glass window brightening as the sun strengthens. Then – summer begins with Christmas. And at the solstice, the sun at its highest fittingly marks the birth of the Son of the

Highest. At least one very traditional carol could have been written especially for a summer nativity: Hark the Herald Angels sing. Hail the Heaven-born Prince of peace, Hail the Sun of Righteousness Light and life to all he brings, Risen with healing in his wings. 4 I still dream of a white Christmas – but it’s the white of manuka blossom, the white of foaming surf, the soft white peaks of cream on the pavlova, the white of puffy clouds in a blue, summer sky. Epiphany follows: the demonstration of God’s glory to the whole world. How perfect to observe it in this season of golden sunshine and flaming flax flowers and immense, dazzling light. So for my prayer at this season I’m grateful to Michael Leunig.

We welcome [Christmas in] summer, and the glorious blessing of light. We are rich with light, we are blessed by the Son. Let us empty our hearts into the brilliance. Let us pour our darkness into the glorious, forgiving light. For this loving abundance, let us give thanks and offer our joy. Amen.5

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 Notes 1. Shirley Murray, Erena Upside-down Christmas 1992 2-3. Isaiah 11:1, Isaiah 35:1 4. Words by Charles Wesley, 1739 5. Michael Leunig, When I talk to you, Harper Collins 2004

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ANGLICAN TAONGA

ADVENT 2016

ENVIRONMENT

Phillip Donnell and his tramping companions are stopped short by beauty as the sky bursts open one night on the Kepler Track.

When all mortal flesh

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e were standing on the verandah of Moturau Hut, overlooking Lake Manapouri, while others formed silhouettes on the shoreline.

Creation took us in and blessed us by surprise.

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keeps silence It was evening, and the entire western sky was catching on fire, like the end of the world – or the beginning. No one spoke. The silence was absolute, save the odd shuffle that reminded us our 40-bunk hut was full of people. We stood there, unmoving, hushed by the extraordinary spectacle playing out in front of us, as it slowly faded away. For over twenty minutes, we barely spoke a word. Nobody stirred. In the near-dark, we stood and watched that single day reach its zenith. I am not sentimental about sunsets. But that heavenly display was the pinnacle of our four-day expedition. For one thing, it forced us to put aside being busy. We had unlabelled, unscheduled time to look – with more than our eyes – at what was wonderfully there to see. We weren’t obliged to think

constructive thoughts, or find a useful purpose. No gadgets were there to ‘kill the time’ it took. We were bound together by our smallness, our insignificance when compared to that celestial blaze. But at the same time, we gained a curious import as witnesses of its glory. "... Through everything God made, they can clearly see his invisible qualities - his eternal power and divine nature..." as Paul wrote in Romans 1:20. While many encounter God best in the wilderness, we can foster relationship with God in silence, anywhere. When all falls quiet we lose our verbal camouflage, so often we babble to occupy the silence. But if we let it be, silence can bring forth a deep communion – with Creation, with others, and with God. Isaiah promises that "in quietness and


ANGLICAN TAONGA

season of silent worship will bring peace and rest that yields lingering blessings. *

*

*

*

*

What does all this mean for our Christian concern for the earth? The reasons we want to protect the environment are more than scientific or pragmatic. Knowing God’s presence in Creation grounds our inner well-being and projects us beyond ourselves. So when we are stewards of the earth, we protect not only the material realm. When we care for Creation we still safeguard the means for human survival. But we also hold onto those sublime places that inspire us to deeper understanding of the mystical, intangible power of God. Phillip Donnell assists the Christian environmental organisations A Rocha Aotearoa New Zealand and Planetcarers, and is a life member of Forest and Bird. phillip.donnell@arocha.org

We're doing more than safeguarding human survival.

Anupam hatui , Shutterstock.com

confidence is your strength" (Isaiah 30:15). So when we seek God in Creation, or in silence, we confess that desire to sink into nothingness, to wait on what God might reveal. At times like ours at Manapouri, the sign of God’s presence arrives unbidden, Creation takes us in, and blesses us by surprise. At other times we are too engrossed in the human world to enter into wonder. To turn our hearts fully to God, we can learn to detach from all that occupies and distracts us: cares and joys, friends and duties, all others, even ourselves. Even studying the Word or offering prayer can stand in the way. Likewise, the thoughts of our hearts – our desires, hopes and fears – can divert us from opening up to God. Or, if we regard waiting on God as a means to an end, we will struggle to find quietness of soul. It is not a technique for leaning on God to grant petitions. If, however, we understand waiting on God as a blessing, then God’s glory can humble us to holy stillness – opening a space where we can know his presence. Silence grows on us too, so even a little

ADVENT 2016

Entering into silence Awe can lead us into contemplation, but spiritual exercises like Thomas Keating's Centring Prayer may also help us enter a state of quiet openness to God. Simple steps for centring prayer: 1. Choose a sacred word as the symbol of your intention to consent to God’s presence and action within, e.g. Lord, Jesus, Love, Mercy, Shalom. 2. Sit comfortably and close your eyes, settle briefly, and silently introduce the sacred word. 3. When you become aware of thoughts, return ever-so-gently to the sacred word. 4. At the end of the prayer period, remain in silence with eyes closed for a couple of minutes.

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ANGLICAN TAONGA

ADVENT 2016

BOOKS

Love without bounds MADE FOR LOVE: SPIRITUAL REFLECTION FOR COUPLES BY JOY COWLEY PLEROMA PRESS, NZ $ 29.99 WWW.CHRISTIANSUPPLIES.CO.NZ CUSHLA MCMILLAN

J

oy Cowley’s collection of spiritual reflections for couples is a beautiful book, helped by environmental illustrator Miranda Brown’s exquisite designs of animals, plants and mandalas. My husband Gilbert and I decided to test drive this book by reading a poem each day, reflecting on it and examining its images. As we shared the poems’ ideas, they became part of our daily living. For a couple two years off golden wedding status, we welcomed this revisit of long-forgotten or taken-for-granted aspects of our relationship and place in the universe. Joy Cowley wrote the book in response to a request for spiritual reflections for gay couples. After some conflict of head and heart, she eventually wrote out of ‘an overwhelming awareness of love as the creative force of the universe, infinite and without boundaries.’ As a counsellor who prepares couples for marriage, Gilbert recommends this book for any couple at ease with Christian imagery.

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The book divides into four sections: celebration of love made flesh, claiming love, honouring love and living love through service. In the first section, Joy Cowley applauds God’s creation in ‘this clothing of human flesh’ that embodies the love between two people. Elderly lovers become ‘two old trees leaning against each other, branches and roots entwined.’ Although threatened by

storms in younger days, ‘not knowing it was hardship that would make us stronger,’ the couple become a gift and shelter for many. At last they will ‘fall back to the earth’, ‘nourishment for future forests’. ‘For love is eternal’, ‘…it will return to its source and it will never die’. In the second, ‘The Web of Love’ speaks of tensions that can make lovers forget ‘the sacred presence within.’ She counsels leaving the head’s divisions, and opening the heart to beauty: to a sonata, a church’s silence, to fresh snow. Then, fully open to love, and connected to all creation, ‘the world will come to you and sit at your table.’ In chapter three ‘The Enemy,’ contrasts fear and love for those paranoid about race. Cowley challenges builders of walls, ‘Fear closes us down,’ she writes, ‘Love opens us up.’ In the final section, Cowley asserts that ‘Love is the power of the universe’ and ‘the essential nature of God’. The more love we give away, she argues, the more will be left over. This is a book to be treasured. Rev Cushla McMillan is an Anglican priest living in Otago Peninsula parish, Dunedin. cushla.gilbert@ihug.co.nz

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ANGLICAN TAONGA

ADVENT 2016

BOOKS

How overseas missions shaped Kiwi culture PUSHING BOUNDARIES: NEW ZEALAND PROTESTANTS AND OVERSEAS MISSIONS 1827-1939. BY HUGH MORRISON OTAGO UNIVERSITY PRESS, DUNEDIN, 2016. $45 KEVIN WARD

I

f you are looking for a collection of inspiring tales, where New Zealand missionaries go overseas to gain converts, build schools, hospitals and establish churches, then this is not the book for you. However, if you want to gain a more accurate and well-informed picture of how Christianity shaped and developed early New Zealand society, then take a look at Hugh Morrison’s new book, Pushing Boundaries. Morrison looks at the impact of late 19th to early 20th century Protestant missions on New Zealanders’ self-understanding. Here, he joins a number of contemporary historians to address previous histories’ tendency to overlook Christian influences. Morrison centres his argument on the shift in New Zealand history writing from a single focus on ‘national identity’

or ‘nationhood,’ to a more international paradigm. ‘New Zealand is now variously interpreted in terms of ‘transnational’ or ‘transcolonial’ histories…’ he writes. ‘Our historical self-understanding is being reconfigured along a continuum of influences from the local to the global, with our historical stories tied, for example, as much to South Asia and China as to Britain or Europe.’ (p.128). Morrison shows how overseas missions created a flow of people, ideas, money and goods between international denominations and local churches, which in turn helped reshape individual and group identities back home. Missionary societies, for example, became the largest source of information on what foreign people were like. Mission links for their part aided cohesion and identity in denominations separated by geography and ecclesiology. Through helpful statistics, contemporary mission commentaries, case studies, individual stories and other historical writings, Morrison challenges the negative frameworks that curtail Christianity in many of our written histories.

Morrison also questions the low esteem held for mission in many New Zealand histories. Where it is justified, however, he does not hold back from critique. In all, this book is a thought-provoking and stimulating read. Rev Dr Kevin Ward is a senior lecturer at the Knox Centre for Ministry and Leadership in Dunedin. kevin@knoxcentre.ac.nz

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ANGLICAN TAONGA

ADVENT 2016

FILM F MT ZION F R O M T H E D I R E C TO R O

The waiata that rocked our world John Bluck heads back to the ‘80s to find out what 'Poi E' and the Patea Maori Club still have to teach us.

T

he closure of the Patea Freezing Works in the early eighties lost 800 jobs overnight and ripped the heart out of that small South Taranaki town. Not that that Maori community had much heart. In their own words in this stunning documentary, they tell us their language and culture were devalued. Te Reo was rapidly disappearing, ignored by schools and mainstream media, relegated to window dressing for tourists. Receptionists were reprimanded for saying Kia Ora. And the migration of young Maori to the cities only deepened that cultural alienation. Then a musician called Dalvanius Prime came home to Patea to nurse his dying mother, after a decade overseas on the night club circuit, tired of a career going nowhere, with this rebuke ringing in his ears. “Who wants to hear a fat Maori singing other people’s songs?” Then everything changed. The film compresses the story, but it is still transformational – an

It revived a culture and changed a whole country.

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almost overnight miracle. Ngoingoi Pewhirangi wrote the lyrics in Te Reo, Dalvanius scored the song with some help from Prince Tui Teka and the Patea Maori Club. Then he recorded it with Maui Records, a label that Dalvanius had to create, because no recording company would touch it. Poi E is about young Maori flitting through the Pakeha concrete jungle like fantails, anxious, uncertain. “O my instincts take care of us, O my emotions, be entwined around me.” But just as important as the words and the language is the song’s mix of idioms: traditional waiata, poi and hip hop, bop and pop, gospel and funk with a dollop of break dance rhythms. The Michael Jackson lookalike Joe Moana who features in the first music video, dancing on top of the carved canoe gates in Patea became the signature of the song to anyone under 30. The film’s interviews with those young at the time, now over 30 years on, show just what a life changing event it was. The song went to the top of the charts in 1984 and stayed there longer than most others before or since, and it still keeps returning, as it did on the soundtrack of Boy and a Vodafone ad. You might argue that the revival of Te Reo back into the mainstream would have happened anyway, along with Kohanga Reo and Maori immersion units, kapa haka festivals and the Waitangi

Tribunal. But you won’t convince the young Maori in Patea and a hundred other places that it wasn’t all triggered IN CINEMAS SOON OUR SONG by hearing Poi E NZ ON AIR AND THE NEW ZEALAND FILM COMMISSION PRESENTS POI E: THE STORY OF JAWBONE PICTURES IN ASSOCIATION WITH THE PATEA FILM COLLECTIVE, TE MANGAI PAHO, MAORI CLUB ALONG WITH TAIKA WAITITI, STAN WALKER AND THE TOPP TWINS STARRING DALVANIUS PRIME, NGOI PEWHAIRANGI AND THE PATEA GLENDAY FRANCIS AND KAHI for the first time. TEAREPA EDITORS SMITH JEFF GRAPHICS DICK READE AND COLLEEN BRENNAN DIRECTOR OF PHOTOGRAPHY FRED RENATA AND JOS WHEELER SOUND DESIGN ADAMS WRITTEN AND DIRECTED BY TEAREPA KAHI PRODUCERS ALEXANDER BEHSE AND REIKURA KAHI LINE PRODUCER CALLIE And why would poiemovie #poiemovie www.poiemovie.co.nz poiemovie G you try? This is a story of a song that became a legend, and “the emotions it entwines around you,” reviving a culture and changing a whole country in a way our official national anthem never has. And not just Maori. The Pakeha butcher in Patea who gave a $100 to help record the song still talks about it as the best investment he ever made. This marvellous documentary, so beautifully crafted by Tearepha Kahi, has a lesson for Anglicans in Aotearoa. Back in 1992 we committed ourselves as a church to a bicultural constitution that would consult and celebrate, worship and sing together in the words and rhythms of two languages. And by doing that, so we believed at the time, both Maori and Pakeha would be enriched and the faith we share would be rooted ever more deeply in this land. Our progress has been glacial. Poi E could help the thaw. Suitable for General Audiences.

Films, Videos, and Publications Classification Act 1993

SONY.0001 Poe E-One Sheet Poster.indd

Bishop John Bluck is a writer living in Northland. blucksbooks@gmail.com

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30/06/16 10:34 am


ANGLICAN TAONGA

ADVENT 2016

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

Christian Mueller / Shutterstock.com

Imogen de la Bere nuts out how English culture keeps the church afloat – and wonders at its lasting power.

They will happily attend... even if they have no truck with Jesus.

Shipshape and CofE worthy

F

aithful readers of this column will recall that a while back I was wrestling with a call to ministry. Only the lowliest and most prosaic ministry – of Reader in the Church of England – but nonetheless to reach it you must jump through many a genteel hoop. If chosen, you embark on a threeyear course of lectures, academic study, worship activities and coffee drinking. Plus lashings of shared meals, huddles, away days, cosy chats with cake, and agonised emails about The Assignments. I confess to a certain down-heartedness when I walked in late to the first seminar to find a large room full of women, not in the first flower of youth, all in sleeveless flowered frocks. It was a very hot evening. I was in a t-shirt, jeans and dark glasses. I’m not cool, but I felt it. I’ve got nothing against sleeveless flowered frocks. But a whole roomful of them? I admit this is mean and unworthy. Especially since my encounters with my fellow trainees have been humbling. The women in my intake year, as they are overwhelmingly women, are keeping the

church together. One plays the organ and takes services at seven different churches. Her Christmas schedule is as taxing as the vicar of Fairlie’s in the Mackenzie Country, without the consolation of mountains. Another takes Messy Church every week for a group of ten mini-parishes. Another preaches faithfully to 28 people in a tiny country church. The Church of England is still a strongly cultural body. It remains established – the Queen is Head of the Church, and all bishops are nominally appointed by the Crown. The church is the central point of village life, and the unchurched will happily attend functions based around it, even if they have no truck with Jesus. By the same token, the established church will strive night and day to keep small rural and suburban churches open, even if it makes no economic sense. Religion is cultural. We cannot pretend otherwise. Those of us with English forebears can look back to their simple faith in God. They went to church and lived by the commandments if they could. Religion and society were as one.

But then they emigrated to New Zealand, where they encountered a new and different world, with a different culture and different kind of spirituality. So they took a different attitude to religion, which was no longer part of a readymade cultural package. It’s soothing to live in a society where religion is part of your culture. But I also believe that church in Aotearoa New Zealand may be closer to the gospel. I say that for one reason. Kiwis, in general, do not go to church unless they believe in God and Christ Jesus, or at least have a desire for comfort or knowledge. So you don’t have the annual march pasts for Mothering Sunday, Harvest Festival, Remembrance Sunday, or Christingle, when people turn up to have a nod with God, and be seen to be there. But then perhaps I am romanticising the Kiwi church. Let me know your thoughts. Imogen de la Bere is a writer and director living in England. delaberi@gmail.com

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