Category: Addresses and Articles (page 2 of 2)

St Peter’s, Wellington: seminar on God, 20 August 2023.      Bishop Richard Randerson

Personal statement: My faith begins with an experience of a God who is a mystery of love, whose nature is revealed in Jesus, and who calls us to follow Jesus.

Faith is not primarily an intellectual belief in creeds, dogmas, doctrines, liturgies, music, icons, a cross or rosary. These things are merely signposts whose usefulness is measured by the extent to which they lead us to an experience of God and to discipleship.

They are human constructs, many of them beautiful and life-giving, but they can also be barriers to faith. Images from 2000+ years ago do not resonate with many, especially if they feel they are to be interpreted literally. But any signpost that leads you to an experience of the living God is valid. Different images work for different people.

The ISMs

Theism 1: (as at top) an experience of God as spirit, mystery, some over-arching reality, transcendence, something bigger than ourselves that engages us. At a human level think of school spirit, Anzac spirit, team spirit.

Dag Hammarskjold, second Secretary-General of the United Nations:

I don’t know who or what put the question. I don’t know when it was put. I don’t even remember answering. But at some moment I did answer Yes to Someone, or Something, and from that hour I was certain that existence is meaningful and that, therefore, my life, in self-surrender, had a goal.

Exodus 3:Think also of Moses’ encounter with God at the burning bush. God said my name is I AM (Yahweh), or simply Being.  (cf Being vs a being).

^{John 6.68} Simon Peter answered:“Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. And we have come to believe and know you are the Holy One of God.”

Theism 2: theologians today tend to use this as a particular image of God – God as a supernatural being with all the anthropomorphic traits of human beings. (cf Xenophanes, 4oo BCE in Greece: parallel of horses choosing a horse for their god).  KEY QUESTION:  is this the reality of God? Or a human image? If it works for you, that’s fine, but for many people it is a barrier. (eg religion vs science re Creation; god of the gaps); or the problem of evil – why does a good God allow evil to happen?, or not stop it; eg a tsunami or cancer.

Agnosticism: usually a doubt about theism 2 and theism 1

Atheism: generally a denial of theism 2 and theism 1.      (Some atheists may have a sense of theism 1 (something bigger) but not revealed in Jesus).                                                        

Non-theism: a new kid on the block. After much thinking I now call myself a non-theist 2 who believes strongly in theism 1 (God as mystery revealed in Jesus) but not in theism 2 (God as a supernatural being). (Bishop John Robinson wrote of non-theism 2 in Honest to God, (1963).

Apophatic (not speaking) theologians believe that words cannot describe the mystery of who God but only of what God is not.

Humanism:  A commitment to the well-being of humankind. Some atheists and agnostics see themselves in this group.

Pantheism: the view that God and creation are one

Pan entheisn: the view that God is in all things. (Bishop John Robinson was of this view.)

Scientism:  the view that the only truths are those that are scientifically verifiable. Some atheists hold this view. Such a view rules out other truths such as ethics, or the arts.  

Creationism: the fundamentalist view that the Genesis creation stories are literally true and should be taught in the science curriculum in schools.

Intercessory prayer:  with few exceptions the bulk of our liturgies and prayers are based on theism 2 –the assumption that a heavenly father (or mother) is listening to us and will take some action to help us, or someone else we are praying for. I am very comfortable using prayers of this kind but in a non-theistic manner. The words are a powerful symbol of the God who is a mystery of love (theism 1).

For me prayer is allowing myself to be open to this mystery, to be filled by this divine spirit, feeling my life and concerns lifted, being thankful for all that is, feeling the joys and pains of others and being motivated to reach out to them. Prayer is healing in the sense of lifting us into the wholeness of God’s sustaining life and power.

Two prayers in NZPB that go some way to avoid theism 2 images are the Affirmation of Faith on p481 (…your purpose overarches everything we do…) and the version of the Lord’s Prayer on p181 (… Eternal spirit…source of all that is and that shall be –Jim Cotter).

When dealing with images there is no right or wrong. Finding the image that leads you to God is the key. Feel free to discuss this with Richard, the clergy or friends.

You may access Richard’s website and subscribe free for a whole range of resources on faith, justice, ethics and spirituality. 

  www.awordforallseasons.co.nz On the resources page you will find his memoir Slipping the Moorings in which Chapter 11 addresses issues raised in this paper.                                    

So Richard Dawkins has been and gone and if you had $300 you could have heard him speak. What follows was the basis of a letter in The Dominion Post  on 25 February 2023.

 Richard Dawkins is a renowned evolutionary biologist and campaigning atheist. His visit this weekend raised important issues about scientific method and the status of non-scientifically verifiable realities such as the arts, religion, ethics and philosophy.

In 1859 Charles Darwin’s On the origin of species divided the Church into three broad categories: those who rejected science (biblical literalists), those who rejected religion (whence spring many atheists) and those who sought to blend the two into a creative synthesis (contemporary theology). 

Contemporary theologians point out that the Genesis account of the Earth’s origins are neither history nor science. They speak instead of the unity and sacredness of all creation and our role as kaitiaki of the Earth.

In The God Delusion (2006) Dawkins describes how he and a former Bishop of Oxford, Richard Harries, wrote a joint letter on behalf of a group of scientists and bishops to Tony Blair opposing a proposal to introduce creationism (a religious ideology) into the science curriculum of a state-funded school. (They received a vague response.) 

Regrettably Dawkins, while thus being fully aware of contemporary theology, campaigns against religion on the basis of caricatures and biblical literalisms.

Dawkins is moved by Schubert and Shakespeare. He would like to find a scientific explanation for that but such a quest takes one down the road to scientism (no truth except what is scientifically verifiable). Dawkins would do better to break free from that straitjacket and acknowledge that there are other truths in life that do not need to be shoe-horned into the scientific paradigm.

As education broadens from a focus simply on intellectual achievement, the concepts of EQ and SQ are increasingly mentioned as part of a well-rounded education. Education is not just of the mind, but of the whole person. This Speech Day address at Canberra Grammar School in 1999 addresses the question of SQ.

Even when I went to school the IQ test was a central feature of education : it allegedly tells you how intelligent you are in terms of a somewhat narrow range of criteria. We also hear today of EQ,  the Emotional Quotient, which is a measure of your emotional state, and how much you feel at ease with yourself and with others.

Today I want to talk about the SQ, or spiritual quotient, which might make you think you better now settle in for a long and boring speech on religion. I hope it won’t be like that, because spirituality is much bigger than religion, although good religion should help us discover a healthy spirituality for living. Spirituality is to do with life, what we believe, what we value, how we relate to others, how we see ourselves as one very small part of this planet and beyond, and to what in life we devote our energies.

I would like to address the subject by way of ten brief cameos, or snapshots, of what spirituality looks like in real life.

1. Spirituality is to do with sharing with others :  a journalist once interviewed a farmer and asked him what he would do if he had two farms. The farmer replied he would keep one and give the other to someone who needed it. The journalist next asked what the farmer would do if he had two houses, and received the same reply. “And what”, said the journalist, “would you do if you owned two horses?”  “I’d keep them both for myself,” said the farmer. “Why?” said the journalist, “what makes the difference?”  “You see,” said the farmer, “I own two horses.” I would suggest that spirituality is sharing whatever we have, be it in terms of possessions, time or human compassion, with others.
2. Spirituality is to do with using the gifts we have to serve others :  A friend of mine used to lecture in Law at Auckland University, and she would try to talk to the students in class about justice. But she found the students profoundly uninterested in justice. “Look, Miss,” they said, “we’re not really interested in justice; we’re just here to get a qualification to enter a prestigious and highly paid career.”  The same dynamic can be true of any work or profession.
   
   By contrast I think of the famous New Zealander, the late Sir Edmund Hillary, a humble beekeeper who was the first to conquer Mt Everest (with Sherpa Tensing Morgay) in 1953. So grateful was he for the support of the Nepalese that he devoted much of the rest of his life to building schools and hospitals for the people of  Nepal. A similar story can be told of the great Australian, Fred Hollowes, in his work to restore sight to the poor in this country and abroad.  Spirituality is using the gifts we have received from God not for our own enrichment, but in the service of others.
   
3. Spirituality is making sure the organisations we work for serve others : a large motor company some years ago produced a new model of car that often burst into flames in a collision. Management asked the engineers to investigate, and found there was a chassis bolt close to the fuel tank which, upon impact, ruptured the fuel tank and caused the fire. There had been many people burnt, some fatally. The engineers recommended that the company recall the vehicles and, for a few hundred dollars per vehicle, remedy the fault.
   
   The accountants, however, had a different idea. They figured that the cost of paying compensation to the burnt and deceased victims was actually less than repairing thousands of vehicles. They recommended compensating the victims rather than remedying the problem. Spirituality is sometimes a choice between increasing profits or serving customers well. The emerging wisdom is that these two are not mutually exclusive. Companies that look to the well-being of their customers, staff and the wider community often find they prosper not only this year and next, but for years to come.
   
4. Spirituality recognises that the economy exists to serve others :  A British economist, the late E F Schumacher wrote a book entitled Small is Beautiful : Economics as if People Mattered.  That’s a revolutionary idea, isn’t it?  Two quotations make his point :
   
   To the extent that economic thinking is based on the market, it takes the sacredness out of life because there can be nothing sacred in something that has a price. Not surprisingly, therefore, if economic thinking pervades the whole of society, even simple non-economic values like beauty, health or cleanliness can survive only if they prove to be economic.
   
   We need a nobler economics that is not afraid to discuss spirit and conscience, moral purpose and the meaning of life, an economics that aims to educate and elevate people, not merely to measure their low-grade behaviour. 
   
5. Spirituality acknowledges the importance of commitment in relationships : Once when I was a parish priest a woman asked me to officiate at her wedding, She did not want, however, to use the traditional words “until death do us part”, but wanted instead to substitute “for as long as doth last”. Now I don’t believe people should be locked together endlessly in a loveless relationship, and I know the pain of those who have suffered a breakdown in a relationship, and am not judgmental about that. But if there is no mutual commitment in a relationship then we miss the chance to find the deep enrichment of the spirit that comes from a dynamic unity characterised by love, commitment, trust, and a willingness to walk together through times of pain. That is part of spirituality.
   
6. Spirituality is having the capacity to carry on in the face of unimaginable suffering : In 1989 in Zimbabwe I visited some refugee camps on the Mozambique border. A civil war was raging in Mozambique, displacing thousands of people across the border into Zimbabwe where they lived in grass huts eating food sent by overseas aid agencies, and living with no knowledge or hope of when they might ever return to their homes. In 1998 I attended the Lambeth Conference in England and heard the end of that story – the war had concluded, the refugees went home, but found their houses burned, family members dead, and their fields sown with landmines rather than corn seed. Yet in the face of that the local church choir of women sang with a strength and joy you could not believe after all they had been through. They knew a spiritual depth that gave them the capacity to rise above what they had endured.
   
7. Spirituality is having a passion to preserve the environment in our generation and for all the generations to come: Stephanie is the daughter of a New Zealand bishop. After taking a degree at university and studying journalism, Stephanie joined Greenpeace. She was on the Greenpeace when it sailed inside the forbidden nuclear testing zone at Mururoa. Hers was the scream heard on international radio as a marine boarding party climbed on board and started smashing windows and heads. Since then she has been all over the world protecting rivers and oceans, forests, animal, bird and fish life. Whether you are a farmer, business-person, industrialist, miner, or consumers as we all are, spirituality means doing what it takes to preserve in all its beauty the Earth which is God’s gift to us all.
   
8. Spirituality is sitting alongside the ancient peoples of this land and drinking deeply of their culture and their experiences of the Dreamtime : A Scottish priest, Fr Gerard Hughes, visited the Pilbara one Lent in the early 90s and sat with the local people, recognising that God had been present in Australia long before the Europeans arrived. He compared his experience of Christian faith with their Aboriginal spirituality, discovered many points in common, and came away having received more than he had been able to give. A healthy spirituality recognises the presence of God in the lives and cultures of people very different from ourselves.
   
9. Spirituality is being able to dream dreams beyond the conventions of ordinary life, and make them happen :  John Passmore of the ANU distinguishes between the clever and the creative. The clever students at school, he says, were excellent in examinations, and scored high marks in intelligence tests. The essence of cleverness lies in a certain kind of rapidity of response, a quickness in picking up rules, skills and procedures, and in giving the right answers to questions. He says it is the unimaginative clever who have made a mess of our environment, the centres of our cities, our economy. The clever are often particularly weak in sympathetic imagination.
   
   By contrast the creative thinker moves outside the range of problems we can solve by the application of known principles. The creative thinker looks beyond, beneath and around, taking into account the long-term, and not merely the immediate consequences of an action, looking at the underlying swell rather than the surface agitations. The clever person is concerned merely with keeping the grass tidy, whereas the creative (and spiritually aware) person encourages fresh growth.
   
10. Spirituality is knowing that we are but one part, but yet we have a place, in the vastness of the universe that surrounds us :  Many of you will have seen the ABC programs with Philip Adams interviewing Paul Davies under the great canopy of the stars out in the South Australian desert. If we can reflect as they did on the meaning of life against such a backdrop, we come to understand that neither you nor I can be the centre of existence, but that our lives are lived out in relationship with each other, and with the Earth, and that ultimately we are held in the hands of God, by whatever name this God is known.

These are but some of the elements of what we might know as the S-factor in human life, and by which we might measure our SQ, the Spiritual Quotient of our life. May God bless you each one, as you seek not only to work on your IQ and your EQ, but also as you develop in all its richness the SQ which gives life and meaning to everything you will ever do.

To Discuss

Spirituality is very much in vogue as part of the 21^st century search for meaning in life. What versions of spirituality do you see on offer in society’s market-place? How would you distinguish healthy from unhealthy spirituality?

The loss of seven young lives in the Mangatepopo Stream in April 2008 raised many questions about why such tragedies occur, and how we cope with them when they do. 

The stories and pictures shook us to the core. Six student lives and the life of a young teacher lost in a raging torrent of water that subsided as quickly as it arose. We all felt the pain, knowing they could have been our kids or our schoolmates. Tragically for the families of Elim Christian College in Auckland, they were.

With all the questions this tragedy has raised, there were some extra ones insofar as Elim is a school with a Christian foundation. Why did God allow this to happen? Was it God’s will? Why did God not intervene? What difference does faith make in the midst of such a loss? Does a belief in life after death ease the pain?

Christian responses vary, but I believe that as human beings we are all subject to the changes and chances of life on earth. Whether Christians or atheists, humanists or agnostics, illness and tragedy, good fortune and bad, are our common lot. Some bad things we bring upon ourselves, and some we inflict on others, but random strikes such as at Mangatepopo are part of natural forces which impact upon us all.

Similar questions arose at the time of the Asian tsunami in 2004. Was it a sign of judgment? Was God angry with the people? Not in my book. My God is a God of love who does not visit judgment or punishment upon the human family.

So while we cannot blame God for the loss, yet we may still feel very angry and want to rage at the elements, or bang figuratively on the gates of heaven. This is healthy, and has good biblical precedent. In the Old Testament, Job suffers huge family losses and curses the day of his birth. His comforters suggest there must be some hidden sin God is punishing him for. But Job knows God better than this, and after much anguish and reflection accepts there is no answer to the cause of his suffering, and renews his trust in God.

The questions of how this tragedy could happen to people so young, so talented, so loving and loved, remain. The words of the poet Rainer Maria Rilke suggest that we should …try to love the questions themselves. Don’t search for the answers… Perhaps then, someday in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer. At one level not knowing the answers can be distressing, but at a deeper level there is a mystery about life and death which is something else. In mystery there is a warmth and an assurance that does not depend on understanding.

Faith, then, is not a guarantee of protection from life’s disasters, but it is an assurance that God is with us as we go through them. Theologian Matthew Fox has written that when we are faced with tragedy and loss, the only way out is through, but God is with us as we encounter the dark.

The pictures from Elim College spoke also of another aspect of faith, and that is the reality of love. Staff, students and families held each other as they shed their tears, and felt the love that each offers the other in coping with a shared grief. Love is in the warm and caring presence of friends, and of strangers also who come out of the woodwork to stand with us at such times. Nor is such love just for a day, or a week, but it continues in the long periods of pain that follow the loss of those closest to us.

Christian faith sees human love as an expression of the greater and all-encompassing love of God. The spirituality of the ancient Celts was not lived out in the rituals of churches and cathedrals, in prayer books or in creeds. Theirs was an awareness that perceived God as the spirit of love and of life that flowed through the whole of creation. In times when we are most alone, and the darkness is darkest, to open ourselves to that spirit, or wairua, and allow God’s love to flow through us and sustain us, can bring glimmers of light and hope for the days ahead.

The Mangatepopo tragedy also raised questions about life after death. Christians have different ways of understanding life beyond the grave. Many years ago I came across the words of an American theologian, Henry Nelson Wieman, who spoke of life after death in terms of “hope without prediction”. He meant by this that it was not possible for us as humans to predict the details of what lay the other side of death, and that it was idle to speculate.

But Wieman was firm in his conviction of Christian hope which is not just a vague kind of wish, but a robust confidence in the presence of God who transcends the boundary between life and death. As St Paul writes, “in life and in death we are the Lord’s”.

Celtic spirituality has a similar understanding. On the windswept island of Iona, St Columba founded a monastery in the 4^th century which became the centre of Celtic Christianity. In 1938 the Rev George MacLeod, a Scottish minister, founded the Iona community. In one of his prayers, MacLeod wrote that “only a veil, thin as gossamer, divides us from our loved ones”. Faith has this sense of a continuing communion with those who have gone before us.

Such convictions do not quickly or easily remove the raw pain of the loss of those we love dearly. But in the midst of grief there is assurance expressed in the oft-quoted words of the 14^th century English mystic, Julian of Norwich: “All will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things will be well”. For Julian these were not words of superficial comfort, and had no sense of an overnight quick fix. Rather they express a trust that in the fullness of time new life can rise out of death, and hope overcome despair.

To Discuss

1. What great losses have you experienced in life, and what feelings have you had at such times?
2. What faith perspectives have helped you in the midst of grief?

“A devil for the detail”

5:00AM Saturday June 09, 2007
By Carroll du Chateau 

Bishop Richard Randerson is turning his back on the big lights of Auckland for the home comforts of Haitaitai.

Every morning at 7.30 a small group gathers at the Holy Trinity Cathedral chapel. It’s a simple service, just the Gospel, confession, offertory and communion. The chapel, with its simple wooden cross (no figure of Christ) behind the altar, is small and cosy, compared with the cavernous cathedral outside. Lit by a small suspended lamp and two fat altar candles, it offers pews, padded kneelers and plush carpet. But the most interesting thing on this chilly winter morning is the evident piety of the officiating priest, the Anglican Dean of Auckland Richard Randerson.

There is no sign of the “agnosticism” Bishop Randerson has been explaining over the past few months. He skips the affirmation of faith but, this is the service of a believer: “Go to love and serve the Lord,” he says as the worshippers depart.

Later, in his rather spartan office, the bishop says that despite his many scholarly articles people still do not understand his position on faith. Sitting there in a brown v-necked Rodd & Gunn jersey over his purple cassock, and wearing a pair of shoes cleaned so many times the black leather wrinkles like parchment, Bishop Randerson explains he used the word “agnostic” only when debating the theories of evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins. He was asked if he could scientifically prove that God exists. And he says, “you can’t prove God by science.”On the other hand, the bishop believes passionately in God “as in the person known as Jesus Christ. I endorse that 100 per cent. That’s what my whole life has been about.”

It is Bishop Randerson’s careful theology, his dedication to truth and bridging the gap between science and religion that has led him into controversy over and over again. He does not accept the literal meaning of the virgin birth – and many of the other stories of the Old Testament.

“It can be very upsetting for people who think, ‘well that’s the truth: it’s a gynaecological miracle that I believe in’,” explains Bishop Randerson. “Yet often in the process of that [belief] they are missing what that story is about – which is that the divine and the human meet perfectly in Jesus. The miracle can distract people from the deeper understanding.”

Similarly with the story of Adam and Eve, which he explains away as one of many “symbolic stories” attached to the Bible. “Adam in Hebrew means humankind,” he says. “Eve means life. When we’re talking about Adam and Eve, we’re talking about the generic meaning of life. They’re generic stories about the truths of human life.”

He has also stuck his neck on the chopping block over gay marriage (he would welcome it if the church did).

The bishop’s modern ideas may have an appeal. Holy Trinity still draws 150 to Sunday communion and around 80 to evensong. Although the controversy over their leader’s agnosticism may have upset some of his flock, many more “on the margins” got engaged in the argument.

Bishop Randerson’s attitudes, delivered in a warm, measured voice, may make the Anglican Church far more acceptable to the educated than insistence on literal, blind faith. As he says, bringing the church into the scientific era has been his life’s work. “That’s what it’s all about – that’s what I’ve had a passion to do … There are many people who’ll say ‘if I’ve got to believe that Jesus was literally born from a virgin I have to rubbish the whole Christian thing just on the basis of that’.”

Richard Randerson grew up in Takapuna in the 1950s when it was Sunday school for all. His father, Brian, a branch manager with the BNZ and son of a Presbyterian minister, was confirmed in the Anglican church after he married so the children would have both parents in the same faith. The “very bright” Ngaio, was a stay-at-home mum. Their other two sons went into banking and law. Tony Randerson is the senior judge of the High Court.

Richard was 17 and in his last year at Takapuna Grammar when he signed up for the priesthood. Randerson majored in Greek and Latin at Otago then went on to three years at St John’s College in Meadowbank. By then many of his colleagues had already come off those rails. “Of the 15 who applied just over half made it to ordination.”

Even he had a crisis of faith. He was in his mid-20s, a couple of years into his first official placement at Papakura and newly married to high school teacher Jackie. The youth revolution that had been stirring in the US when he was ordained in 1964, was now raging in New Zealand, and the church was suddenly uncool. “People were leaving in droves,” he says. ” I had to do some major wrestling to find my way.”

That rethinking brought him to the wider life of the church in society. In 1968 Randerson won a scholarship to do his Masters In Theology at the Union Theological Seminary in New York, followed by a year with the City Ministry. It was the time of Black Power, Vietnam and youth revolt. Next came a year as industrial chaplain at Teesside, in Britain, where Rebecca (now 37) was born, before being called home to direct first, the Industrial Mission for Auckland City, followed by 12 years as inner-city vicar at St Peter’s in Wellington.

It was an interesting life. The family lived in a succession of parish houses. Randerson was an involved father. He took Jeremy (born 1976) to his first day at school and took his turn on the Playcentre roster.

By the mid-1990s, Randerson – who had been the Anglican Social Responsibility Commissioner for four years – was known for his opinions on the new-right government policies of the time. He had written two books criticising monetarist policies and was often in the media. “The ‘new’ virtues of individualism and self-help resulted in an erosion of community responsibility and compassion for people on the margins of society,” he growled.

Even now, he says, an over-emphasis on individual effort – “you deserve it, work hard, play hard” – is working against a sense of community – as evidenced in the Muliaga case. “I think society is way out of kilter.”

His values, ethics and financial judgment propelled Randerson to Australia for six years as Assistant Bishop in Canberra. Next came his appointment at Holy Trinity twinned, two years later, with the assistant Bishop post.

Then came a major seminar on climate change at Holy Trinity and last month Bishop Randerson was a core member of the third Asia/Pacific Regional Interfaith Dialogue, which he points out with a wry smile, “was not about watering down Christianity with a dollop of Islam” but grew out of the need for keeping communities peaceful.

“It started with the bombings in Bali and attacks on the Australian Embassy in Jakarta. And Helen Clark called on different religious groups to work together to build peace within our own communities.”

As he sees it, achieving the starry-eyed diverse communities our politicians want may not come easy. “This is the big issue of the 21st century. If we see our identity threatened we get anxious, then upset, then angry.” And no, he does not believe we should assimilate other peoples’ values at the expense of our own. “We need to learn to be a culturally diverse community while recognising that we live in New Zealand under a common law.”

As for the prayer before Parliament, the man who wants to usher people into Christianity rather than exclude anyone, believes we should keep the prayer but omit the specific reference to Jesus at the end.

Possibly because he goes into immense detail, the media constantly get Randerson wrong. “There have been five mistakes about me in the Herald this year,” he says. And another glaring one in Metro magazine which accuses him of introducing a Hindu altar cloth to the cathedral altar. Not so, says Randerson. “That cloth is in Christchurch cathedral – and commissioned by their dean.”

NOW, AS he heads into the last few weeks of his ministry, Bishop Randerson is quietly happy with his achievements, not even slightly frustrated that he never made archbishop – and seriously regretful that he won’t be in the driving seat when Christianity becomes hot again.

Later this month he and Jackie head to their second, personally owned house in Haitaitai so they can be near their children and grandchildren: Rebecca is now a Johnsonville GP and mother of two; Jo, a successful writer/actor and former Winston Churchill Fellow; Jeremy, actor and co-owner of the Foxton Fizz soft-drink company.

In retirement he will probably write his reflections on the past 50 years – documenting the huge changes in church and society.

“I actually think it’s a great time for the church right now,” he says. “For the 40 years since I was ordained, people have been distancing themselves from Christianity. Now people are looking for values – what gives life meaning and purpose – and revisiting some of the great spiritual dimensions. If we can connect with the wider community it’s not an opportunity we want to miss.”

Which brings us back to the debate over agnosticism. As the dean says, it sparked a huge response from people on the edge of the church. “They were saying, thank God someone’s saying something intelligent and that makes sense about spirituality.”

THE TREATY OF WAITANGI: UNITY BUILT ON DIVERSITY

The speech to the Orewa Rotary Club in 2004 by Dr Don Brash, leader of the National Party at the time, triggered a major public debate and temporarily catapulted the party up in the polls. But Dr Brash’s views had the potential to undo much that was good in race relationships, as this article which appeared in the New Zealand Herald on Waitangi Day 2004 outlines.

On the wall at Ngai Tahu headquarters in Christchurch hangs a document of formal apology by the New Zealand Government for the wrongful alienation of Ngai Tahu land in the 19^th century. The document is signed by Jenny Shipley, Prime Minister of the day.

The apology followed a finding by the Waitangi Tribunal that the claim by Ngai Tahu to the greater part of South Island was legitimate. But with that acknowledged, Ngai Tahu said they recognised the place of the many other settlers who had come subsequently to New Zealand, and did not want all of the land for themselves.

Instead an agreement was reached whereby the Crown allocated $170 million to Ngai Tahu, money which has been invested for the provision of health, education, housing and the general well-being of the tribe. Ngai Tahu were also affirmed as the guardians of 130 species of native flora and fauna, and of sacred sites such as Aoraki/Mt Cook. The mountain was deeded back to Ngai Tahu, who then formally returned it to the nation.

A basic dynamic of human relationships underlies this process. When a wrong has been done the wrong-doer is called on to acknowledge and repent of the wrong, and to make appropriate reparation. The act of repentance in turn frees the wronged party to act generously and, in a spirit of reconciliation, a new partnership is established.

We understand this dynamic at a personal level, but to see it as equally valid at the collective level between different groups, nations and races is a more recent insight. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission in post-apartheid South Africa is based on this same understanding. In Australia the 1997 report on the stolen aboriginal generations significantly raised the awareness of Australians, although it took ten years and a change of government for an official apology to be offered.

While National Party leader Don Brash said in his speech to the Orewa Rotary Club that he would continue the process of settlements under the Waitangi tribunal, his comments are destructive of much that is good. His pledge to do away with many Maori structures and institutions, and restore unitary systems of administration, takes us back 50 years to a time when New Zealanders harboured the romantic notion that this country was a model to the world of racial harmony.

It is easy enough to point to excesses by individuals within Treaty processes, but what race or institution is free of corruption or excess? To add emotive terms like ‘grievance industry’, ‘deeply corrupt’ or ‘pecuniary gain’ panders to populism at the cost of substantial progress made in recent years by both Labour and National governments.

Dr Brash’s words are a sad contrast to those of Ngati Whatua chairman Sir Hugh Kawharu who, in speaking of Bastion Point, said that Maori title to land bestows mana, and mana requires sharing with all. Sir Hugh says that the concept of exclusive possession of land was alien to Maori before 1840. Today as a nation we have a choice between a spirit of sharing and trust, as outlined by Sir Hugh, or one that undermines the Treaty and leads to alienation and division.

At the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi in 1840 Governor Hobson said to each chief: “He iwi tahi tatou” (we are all one people). The words are capable of different meanings. They could mean, as Dr Brash interprets, that all race-based differences should be abandoned, and everyone treated the same. In reality, they mean something else.

Article 1 of the Treaty (acknowledging the kawanatanga/governorship of Queen Victoria) and Article 3 (according British citizenship to Maori) support a concept of one nation/one citizenship. But Article 2 acknowledges a special oversight (rangatiratanga/chieftainship) by Maori over their lands, fisheries and forests.

The Treaty thus offers a vision of unity between two peoples, but does not obliterate the differences. Instead it requires a careful dialogue between the parties to ensure the promises of Article 2 are achieved. The interplay between kawanatanga (Article 1) and rangatiratanga (Article 2) is complex, but successful dialogue is leading to win-win situations such as that between the Crown and Ngai Tahu.

It is this process which Dr Brash undermines with his dismissive comments on the Treaty, and his pledge to abandon many of the institutions designed to achieve justice and well-being for Maori. It is not a question of special rights and privileged treatment based on race. It is a matter of honouring promises made by our ancestors, and correcting injustices of the past in order to lay the groundwork for an equitable future.

Dr Brash is correct in saying that not only Maori are poor, but the fact is that Maori are disproportionately poor. Maori initiatives in crucial areas such as health and education do not mean neglecting the needs of non-Maori. Rather such initiatives acknowledge that policy-making for Maori by Maori will lead to better outcomes than if Maori are no more than a minority client-group in a one-size-fits-all structure dominated by Pakeha. Tailor-made Maori solutions can also prove more cost-effective than institutional ones.

It was precisely such an awareness that led to a constitutional change in the Anglican Church in 1991. The Church replaced a unitary system whereby Pakeha could always outvote Maori with one where any matter affecting both races must be mutually agreed. This arrangement ensures that what Maori judge appropriate for the advancement of mission among their own people is not subject to control by the rest of the Church. It is an exercise in self-determination, not ethnic privilege.

Dr Brash’s policies would have precisely the reverse effect. In abolishing Maori structures they would destroy not privilege but self-determination, and return Maori to a Pakeha-dominated colonialist framework.

The Treaty of Waitangi envisages a community which is diverse in composition, but able to work together to achieve outcomes that ensure the well-being of all peoples. True leadership is not that which obliterates racial awareness so that one race dominates another. True leadership is marked by the ability to develop structures that reflect diversity but blend for the common good.

To Discuss

1. Do you see the Treaty of Waitangi as a source of division within the nation, or does it have a positive role to play?
2. What would need to happen for the Treaty to be a source of positive outcomes in New Zealand?
3. What is your understanding of the three-tikanga (Maori, Pakeha, Pacific Island) model of governance adopted by the Anglican Church in 1991? Has this been helpful to the Church’s life? What might be done to enhance partnership across tikanga within the Church?

Indigenous rights, Co-governance, and the Church.

The following article by Richard Randerson was published in the NZ Listener in February 2022. It has implications for both Australia and New Zealand as signatories to the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples.

A  video link last year suggested that the recently published He Puapua Report (see below) is an exercise in separatism that will take Aotearoa New Zealand down a path to apartheid.

Against an apocalyptic background of darkened skies, lightning and thunder,  presenter Elliot Ikelei, a recent leader of the New Conservative Party, warns viewers of a looming political disaster that will engulf the nation.

He Puapua is a document with an 18-year window for public discussion to formulate proposals to mark (in 2040) the 200^th anniversary of the signing of Te Tiriti o Waitangi. He Puapua means a break, as in the breaking of waves, in this case the breaking of inequitable political and constitutional structures.

The He Puapua working group was set up to consider how to give effect to the 2007 United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, signed by Australia in 2009 and by New Zealand in 2010. A letter of protest is in preparation urging a new government in 2023 to withdraw from the Declaration.

The Dominion Post (15 July 2021) wrote of He Puapua:  “the crux of it is this: outcomes for indigenous people improve when they are in charge of their own destiny”.

The principle of one person, one vote lies at the heart of democracy, but parliamentary democracies in the western world inevitably lead to majority white rule which preferences the majority. Like runners in a race, all have an equal right to enter but some are starting way behind the rest.

There can be no doubt of the need for greater equity in Aotearoa. Socio-economic indicators show that Maori and Pacific Islanders are at the bottom of the heap in housing, incomes, employment, health, education, imprisonment, longevity and inequality. The trends have worsened since 1985.  Inequality is the result of institutional racism whereby majorities are blind to the impact of institutions and the dominant culture on minorities.

He Puapia aims to “refocus on rangatiratanga (Maori self-determination)”…which could range “from “full independence at one end of the spectrum to participation in state government at the other”.  Central to the repot are “government’s priorities of well-being, inclusivity and pride in Aotearoa”.

The slow roll-out of Covid vaccinations for Maori and Pacific communities was greatly improved with the planning of the roll-outs being handed to indigenous leaders. The recent restructuring of District Health Boards, and the creation of a Maori Health Authority with equal standing, is likewise recognition of the principle that “by Maori for Maori” is likely to improve health outcomes.

Since the 1970s the work of the Treaty of Waitangi Tribunal has been another example of partnership between Maori and the Crown. Investigation of the wrongful alienation of Maori land and taonga (treasures, resources) in the 19^th century has led to acknowledgment and apology by the Crown, a framework for compensation and the recognition of iwi as kaitiaki (guardians) of sacred sites and indigenous species. The recognition of wrong has been a key feature in enabling a spirit of reason and goodwill in the settlement process.

 He Puapua asks how we can make democracy work to provide a better outcome for all New Zealanders. There may be different strategies but no special privileges for one race over another. Rangatiratanga enables Maori to achieve better outcomes across the whole range of social and economic deficits. Restorative justice, under judicial oversight and with its emphasis on rehabilitation rather than retribution, likewise offers a better future to both victims and offenders, not just for Maori but for all citizens.

He Puapua lays down a challenge: as a nation do we want to be swayed by the apocalyptic visions of the fearful, or will we choose to build on our experiences of partnership and frame a better future for 2040 and beyond?

Footnote:  The Anglican Church in New Zealand adopted in 1992 a system of co-governance whereby Maori, Pakeha and Polynesia are three equal partners and the Pakeha majority can no longer outvote the other partners. General Synod decisions must not only pass in the houses of Bishops. Clergy and Laity, but must also be supported by the three tikanga (cultures) of Maori, Pakeha and Polynesia. Over 30 years this has led to better listening, better understanding, consensus decision-making and more equitable sharing of resources

Richard Randerson was assistant bishop in Canberra and Goulburn 1994-1999 and former Anglican social justice officer in New Zealand.

Reporting on the 1961 trial of Adolf Eichmann, one of the architects of the Holocaust, the Jewish philosopher Hannah Arendt (1906–1975) used the phrase “the banality of evil.” It is a shocking phrase to many because it flies in the face of our idea that evil is demonic, monstrous, and villainous, something that everybody immediately recognizes as grotesque and terrible. Arendt’s phrase actually helps explain how the Holocaust or Shoah (catastrophe) could happen. Somehow evil became commonplace.

In his introduction to Arendt’s book Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil, Israeli journalist Amos Elon writes:

[Arendt] concluded that Eichmann’s inability to speak coherently in court was connected with his incapacity to think, or to think from another person’s point of view. . . . He personified neither hatred or madness nor an insatiable thirst for blood, but something far worse, the faceless nature of Nazi evil itself . . . aimed at dismantling the human personality of its victims. The Nazis had succeeded in turning the legal order on its head, making the wrong and the malevolent the foundation of a new “righteousness.” In the Third Reich evil lost its distinctive characteristic by which most people had until then recognized it. The Nazis redefined it as a civil norm. . . . Within this upside-down world Eichmann . . . seemed not to have been aware of having done evil.

As both Thomas Aquinas and C.S. Lewis taught, for evil to succeed, it must disguise itself as good, which is apparently much easier to do than we imagine. What previous generations called “the devil” is still quite active, though disguised in the banality of evil. The devil isn’t going to appear in red with horns and a tail and entice us to follow him. When Paul talks about the devil, he uses words like “powers,” “principalities,” and “thrones” (see Colossians 1:16). These are almost certainly his premodern words for what we would now call corporations, institutions, nation-states, ideologies of supremacy, and organizations that demand our full allegiance and thus become idolatrous—not just “too big to fail,” but even too big to be criticized. Suddenly, the medieval notion of devils comes very close to home.

We must first convict evil in its glorified organizational form. When we idolize and refuse to hold such collective realities accountable, they usually become demonic in some way. We normally cannot see it until it is too late. Hannah Arendt wrote, “The sad truth of the matter is that most evil is done by people who never made up their minds to be or do either evil or good.” While evil may reside primarily in “corporate” form, the resistance to it begins with us as individuals. The rest of this week is dedicated to the stories and wisdom of individuals who made a clear decision to confront evil and hatred with goodness and love, even at the risk of their own lives.