Tino Rangatiratanga

I was at the Titoki healing centre recently to provide input for a retreat held for the clergy of Te Hui Amorangi O Te Tairawhiti. This is the Maori diocese which covers the East Cape area, and the tribes of Ngati Kuhungunu, Turanga-nui-a-kiwa and Ngati Porou. The New Zealand Anglican Church has been divided, since 1992, into three parallel divisions, called Tikanga: Maori, Pakeha and Pasifika. This arrangement is in keeping with the founding document of New Zealand, The Treaty of Waitangi, and is an attempt to provide equal partnership for the three cultural streams which make up our church. The congress between the three tikanga is patchy at best. We meet together in our national synods and committees but at a congregational level, churches are generally fairly independent of each other. So, although I have been guest speaker and led workshops and retreats and ministry schools all over New Zealand, and although I havebeen present at many Maori events, this was the first time I had been officially invited to contribute within Tikanga Maori

It was a small group and fairly tight knit; these people have known each other for a long time and many of them are, in fact, related. I was the stranger, the Pakeha from Dunedin who had come to talk about the parables and about the Kingdom of God. They treated me with the usual hospitality and courtesy of Maori people, going out of their way to make me feel welcome. For example the worship services for the event were all conducted in English, an innovation made entirely for my benefit. No one complained. No one so much as hinted that this was a sacrifice they were making, or even suggested that they usually had any other practice. I was grateful for the gesture, and I didn't let on that I was a bit disappointed to lose the opportunity to improve my liturgical Maori. We all fitted amiably in together on got on with things.

There is a different rhythm about things Maori. There is a soft flow to the language; a different pattern of starts and finishes, rises and falls than English. After a long time in Dunedin where English is the only language heard, except when some academic speaks French or German or Latin, it was a joy to be in a place where I could again hear conversational Maori; where people switched unconsciously from one language to another, sometimes in the middle of sentences. At a Maori event there is a different flow of time; people rise very early and the timing of events usually follows the needs of the task in hand rather than the needs of the clock. There is an easier acceptance of spiritual realities than I am used to in the Pakeha world, even in the church.

Before I went to the retreat, I'd met only one of the people present. Over three days of close contact they got to know me and my my story just a little, and as they began to know me, began in turn to let me see the real people who lay behind their offering of gracious hospitality. We found that we served churches with similar challenges and problems. We found that behind the different patterns and rhythms of our respective cultures there were the same life issues to be faced. Just as the breath is shared in a hongi, we learned that we shared much the same spiritual and ecclesiastical air. And I started to wonder whether our three Tikanga structure was really serving the partnership it was intended to protect.

All over our country small Maori parishes struggle to survive. They are under resourced and often scattered thinly over large tracts of land. Beside them often, are small, under resourced thinly spread Pakeha parishes. People like to worship in their own language and in accordance with the mores of their own culture, and so they should be allowed to so choose. But in terms of administration, support and resources I'm not sure dividing things up into three makes the most sense. In fact it even seems a bit daft. A system of support persons, competent to work across both cultures and adequately resourced seems to me to be a better idea than an under resourced ministry enabler and an under resourced Kaihautu working essentially the same turf.

The people thanked me for my contribution with their customary generosity and at the end of the retreat the reserve had melted. I was driven to the airport in a large four wheel drive, proudly flying the flags of Te Tino Rangatiratanga and The Maori Party. My driver's husband has the same disease as me, and the three of us were so engrossed in conversation we missed the airport turn off and I only just made my flight. I flew back down the country to Scottish Dunedin, away from the warmth of the Bay of Plenty, away from anybody who is likely to have the Tino Rangatiratanga flag attached to their car. I've been here in Dunedin ten years now, and by and large I love it. But today I was reminded that there are some things which I very much miss, and foremost among them is hearing the Maori language spoken around me, and learning from the ancient culture of those who got to these islands first. So, if you don't mind, just for today, I too would like to fly a couple of flags. The one above, and this one:



Kia ora tatou.