Skip to main content

Home Again

I took this photo on my phone.Can't remember when or where. Just found it now, and I quite like it.

I spent all day Friday on planes and in airports. Saturday I slept in. Sunday I went to Balclutha to preside at the induction of Griff Moses as the new vicar, and I was grateful that the service was late in the day as I felt so tired. Today, my day off I went for a long walk and began to renovate our bathroom. Pulling wallpaper off walls is a good thing to do when there is inner stuff to process.

I took part in a couple of the synod debates, other than the one on the Ma Whea report, of course. I was, for instance, quite shocked when Carole Hughes presented a table showing the low number of women in leadership in our church at a national level. We have few women members of our key committees and almost no women chairs of those committees.I think there is more to this than just telling the boys to step aside and let the girls have a go; I think there are issues of structure and culture which are very difficult to identify and address, but of course they need to be i & a.

Late on the last day we had a debate which went nowhere and yet was perhaps the most important matter that came before us. Bishop Api Qilio spoke at length about the effect of global warming on his diocese, Polynesia. People's homes, and in fact the very land those homes are built on are under threat. And the threat isn't in 10 or 20 years time, it is happening now. The way we deal with important social issues in synods is to leave them all til the last day, have a hurried discussion and pass a meaningless resolution or two, which is pretty much what we did with this one. There has simply got to be a better way.

The personal effect on me of being with Ngapuhi for a week, and of visiting Oihi and Waitangi have been far more profound than I expected. Living in the South I sometimes forget the power and beauty of Maoritanga, but I couldn't do that in Tai Tokerau. Neither could I ignore the basis of our nation in partnership. I am glad that our pre General Synod  IDC meeting is going to be replaced next time by a meeting between tikanga Maori and Tikanga Pakeha. Very glad indeed.

The Ma Whea discussion still sits with me. Few people, judging by the comments on here and other places, recognise the enormity of the task the church has set for itself or the potentially radical nature of the changes we have committed ourselves to. Having been part of the decision I feel committed to doing all in my power to bring them about, but it's not the decision which sits with me most. It is the way the decision was made. Sometimes in a very good liturgy there is a time when the church seems especially united; especially open to and flowing with the Spirit of God. In Church this happens for a period of minutes, or even maybe an hour or so. At General Synod /Te Hinot Whanui 2014 it happened for 8, 10 or 12 hours a day and for three days straight. General Synod was, and I can scarcely believe that I am saying this, one of the highlights of my Christian walk so far. In large part I think the special flow of the synod was about being at Waitangi. In part it was about being continually under-girded by prayer: the unselfconscious movement into karanga and himene, which was the particular gift of Ngapuhi to us all, formed a sort of basket which held us all. Mostly though it was because we stumbled into, or maybe were led into, a better way of dealing with difference. Instead of slugging it out to try and prove ourselves right we agreed on the imperative of a unity which doesn't require uniformity and we set about seeking a way to remain together while recognising the integrity of each others differences. We've mapped out a way in which this can happen. All we have to do now is make it happen.

I came home realising how deeply Anglican ways of doing things run in me, and how glad I am of that. There are other things happening for me right now, which I won't bore you with, but I am grateful to have been in Waitangi, I'm grateful to be in Dunedin and I'm happily anticipating all that lies ahead.

Comments

Balfdib said…
Thanks Kelvin for your insights about the Synod. Sounds as though it was a very significant event. We were very aware that it was taking place and held you in our prayers. The Scottish Episcopal Church is struggling with Same Sex issues. This is as a result of the Scottish Parliament passing legislation approving Same Sex marriage. We have started the journey into a discussion, some want a Yes answer straight away, General Synod is coming up so would value your prayers for the event.
Simon said…
Thank you Kelvin, as someone who sat a few tables away from you all week, I believe you have captured it all so well, the thoughts, the feelings, the discussions and the sense of the Spirit interweaving all. As a GS newbie, I had been warned what it *could* be like - but my experience made me thankful of being an Anglican, and I shall be telling our people that. You are too modest to mention it, buit your 'after dinner' speech on Thursday night was both hilarious and pfofound. Thank you!
Mark Wilcox said…
Kelvin, your words resonate with my impressions of the week. I'm a newbie to these gatherings so have nothing to compare against. However, I too was moved by the spirit that pervaded the week - yes there were tawdry moments but humour was never far away to leaven! I too felt proud of our church.

Popular posts from this blog

Ko Tangata Tiriti Ahau

    The Christmas before last our kids gave us Ancestry.com kits. You know the deal: you spit into a test tube, send it over to Ireland, and in a month or so you get a wadge of paper in the mail telling you who you are. I've never, previously, been interested in all that stuff. I knew my forbears came to Aotearoa in the 1850's from Britain but I didn't know from where, exactly. Clemency's results, as it turns out, were pretty interesting. She was born in England, but has ancestors from various European places, and some who are Ngāti Raukawa, so she can whakapapa back to a little marae called Kikopiri, near Ōtaki. And me? It turns out I'm more British than most British people. Apart from a smattering of Norse  - probably the result of some Viking raid in the dim distant past - all my tūpuna seem to have come from a little group of villages in Nottinghamshire.  Now I've been to the UK a few times, and I quite like it, but it's not home: my heart and soul belon...

Kindle

 Living as I do in a place where most books have to come a long way in an aeroplane, reading is an expensive addiction, and of course there is always the problem of shelf space. I have about 50 metres of shelving in my new study, but it is already full and there is not a lot of wall space left; and although it is great insulation, what is eventually going to happen to all that paper? I doubt my kids will want to fill their homes with old theological works, so most of my library is eventually going to end up as egg cartons. Ebooks are one solution to book cost and storage issues so I have been  using them for a while now, but their big problem has been finding suitable hardware to read them on.  I first read them on the tiny screens of Ipaqs and they were quite satisfactory but the wretchedness of Microsoft Reader and its somewhat arbitrary copyright protection system killed the experience entirely. On Palm devices they were OK except the plethora of competing and incomp...

En Hakkore

In the hills up behind Ranfurly there used to be a town, Hamilton, which at one stage was home to 5,000 people. All that remains of it now is a graveyard, fenced off and baking in the lonely brown hills. Near it, in the 1930s a large Sanitorium was built for the treatment of tuberculosis and other respiratory ailments. It was a substantial complex of buildings with wards, a nurses hostel, impressive houses for the manager and superintendent and all the utility buildings needed for such a large operation. The treatment offered consisted of isolation, views and weather. Patients were exposed to the air, the tons of it which whistled past, often at great speed, the warmth of the sun and the cold. They were housed in small cubicles opening onto huge glassed verandas where they cooked in the summer and froze in the winter and often, what with the wholesome food and the exercise, got better. When advances in antibiotics rendered the Sanitorium obsolete it was turned into a Borstal and...

The Traitor

A couple of people have questioned me privately about the Leonard Cohen song The Traitor , and about Cohen's comments on the song, "[The Traitor is about] the feeling we have of betraying some mission we were mandated to fulfill and being unable to fulfill it; then coming to understand that the real mandate was not to fulfill it; and the real courage is to stand guiltless in the predicament in which you find yourself". What on earth does he mean, and why am I so excited about it? For the latter, check with my psychiatrist. For the former, my take on the song is this: The Traitor is another of those instances, as in The Partisan , where Leonard Cohen uses a military metaphor to speak of life in general and human love in particular. Many of us hold high ideals: some great quest or other that we pursue. These are often laudable things: finding true love, finding the absolute love of God, becoming enlightened, spreading the Gospel, writing the great novel or some such ...

Camino, by David Whyte

This poem captures it perfectly Camino. The way forward, the way between things, the way already walked before you, the path disappearing and re-appearing even as the ground gave way beneath you, the grief apparent only in the moment of forgetting, then the river, the mountain, the lifting song of the Sky Lark inviting you over the rain filled pass when your legs had given up, and after, it would be dusk and the half-lit villages in evening light; other people's homes glimpsed through lighted windows and inside, other people's lives; your own home you had left crowding your memory as you looked to see a child playing or a mother moving from one side of a room to another, your eyes wet with the keen cold wind of Navarre. But your loss brought you here to walk under one name and one name only, and to find the guise under which all loss can live; remember you were given that name every day along the way, remember you were greeted as such, and you neede...