sustain:if:able kiwi

practically practicing kindness in times of scarcity

I was asked to provide some spiritual input into a gathering of denominational Ministry Educators last week. KCML was invited to be present given a warm appreciation for the knowledge and insight we are currently providing in areas of mission and innovation. The input I offered was at the end, as folk began to travel to the airport and homeward.

I begin with an ending. When I finish, I will offer thankyou cards as a takeway. They will be here on the table.

I’ve been on Outside Study leave for three months earlier this year. I had some aims. I wanted to finish a book on mission and innovation for SCM press. I wanted to present research on life-long learning at a teaching and learning conference and complete a journal article in mission crossing cultures and spend time in indigenous contexts and I wanted to walk daily.

Alongside planned outputs, I also wanted to be open to surprise, the unexpected encounters. I found this in a book by Janet Martin Soskice called the The Kindness of God: Metaphor, Gender, and Religious Language. Through a set of unexpected research moments, I find myself reading, then re-reading, about the kindness of God. It was an image that stuck with me.

• How does God relate to me? In what ways do I value and experience God as kind?

• How do I relate to others? What does it mean for me to extend kindness?

In the Hebrew, the word for kindness is hesed. It’s a mix of God as faithful and god ask kindness. It appears in the book of Ruth, in 1:8, “May the Lord deal kindly with you.”

What is interesting is that Ruth 1 is all about scarcity.

• physical scarcity – times of famine and the absence of food
• cultural scarcity – moving from Israel to Moab means a crossing cultures into new language and new patterns
• relational scarcity – moving to another community, then losing husbands means a scarcity of relationships
• generational scarcity – losing husbands means, in that culture, the end of that family line, the line of Elimilech.

And in the middle of scarcity, there is this understanding of God as kind.

Times of scarcity can produce  other responses. There can be competition for limited resources, a hoarding of what is precious, grief at the loss of what was, fear of having no future.

Yet in Ruth 1, God is kind. This shapes how we might relate to God – as kind – and how we might relate to others – with kindness.

We live in a time of scarcity. There is physical scarcity, as the Presbyterian church declines. There is cultural scarcity as new migrants and new cultures appear in our communities. There is generational scarcity, as we see our children and youth leave our churches.  It is easy to respond by competing, by hoarding, by being afraid.

Yet in times of scarcity, God is kind and this shapes how I relate to God and how I relate to others.

So in the last few months, I’ve wondered what practically it means for me – in this time and place of scarcity – to be kind? For me, it has involved hand-written thankyou cards. It is so rare to receive a letter these days. It is so easy in the church to be critical and impatient. So I have started to send random hand-written thankyou cards – to people I see in action, to people at a distance, or in a committee that I work in – in which I use words to express kindness for what they do.

As we leave, as we return to contexts of scarcity, you might want to join me. Take a card. As you sit on airplane, why not write a handwritten thankyou card. Express in actions that Hebrew word hesed and the ways of the God of Ruth – a God of kindness.

Photo by Sandrachile on Unsplash

Side project research: turning 1 journal article into 2

So I’m working on an academic side project.

A side project, according to wikipedia, is a project undertaken by someone already known for their involvement in another project. In this case, the side project involves turning 1 recently accepted journal article into a 2nd and different (adapted and localised) journal article.

A side project is also something done on the side, which applies here given my writing occurs outside of normal work hours.

Why this side project?
1 – I’ve already done much of the work. When writing, there is always work left on the editing floor. In this case, a visit to Te Papa to research Pacific bark cloth, along with a literature review. The work got left behind in the 1st journal article. So it just makes sense to bring that work back into production and make it visible.

2 – I have been strongly encouraged. When the initial journal article was accepted by Mission Studies, Reviewer 1 noted “I am intrigued by the notion of “hapkas” christology and hope the author has a chance to expand on this analysis in subsequent research.” Then Reviewer 2 took the initiative and contacted a 2nd journal to say “I reviewed this article and thought it was so good … I thought it would be great” for this second journal. That sort of feedback and proactivity provides motivation and energy.

3 – It’s part of re-connecting to my birthplace of Papua New Guinea. It was such a thrill writing the initial article and that sense of satisfaction and re-weaving continues with this side project. I get to appreciate the bark cloth of my childhood as part of a complex cycle of art production and think again about the kin relationships that were part of raising me. I feel more centred as a human person.

4 – It’s a concrete step in a bigger project – a monograph researching hybridity and genealogy in Christology. That’s a big project. So I need ways to make it bite sized. A 2nd journal article does that, as I extend existing trajectories and develop new sections.

So what is involved this particular side project? The 1st article was for an international journal. For that journal, the article needed to communicate globally. This involved locating a specific, national, piece of research in relation to international trends in mission. Specifically, a literature review that engaged a range of authors, from a range of countries.

The second journal article is for a national journal. This article needs to communicate more locally. Specifically, more concrete detail of the actual culture. Hence editing in the notes I took from that visit to Te Papa to research Pacific bark cloth in 2016. It is such a thrill to find the Evernote entry from September 2016 and realise that 250 draft words, typed on the airplane on the return flight, are just waiting to be edited in. The result is a new section on the history of art in this particular region.

It also requires locating the research in relation to other national research. Hence deleting a range of authors from a range of countries and instead reading through the back issues of this particular national journal. It was such a thrill to find the Evernote entry with the URL of the journal article back copies, already found online, waiting to be analysed. The result is a literature review for this journal of the history of Christology in this journal over the last 30 years – of Jesus the “wontok” (relation), the clan brother, the “tatapa” (protector).

As a result, over the last 2 weeks, 1 hour a day, a very different journal article is being written. Using work already done, yet particularising, localising, enlarging my understandings of indigenous Christologies, important for my ongoing teaching as an inhabitant of Oceania, a guest on the land of another, a boy born in Melanesian.

Missional theology at ANZATS 2019

ANZATS 2019 was stimulating and diverse. The keynotes were excellent and the contrasting styles helped provide rich engagement. With over 100 papers and more than 140 participants, it was a great chance to network and re-connect with old friends – particularly for me folk from Uniting College, Adelaide. A highlight for me is always the work of new and emerging scholars, seeing them present with such creativity and enthusiasm.

ANZATS 2019 began with a powhiri and I was privileged to speak in te reo on behalf of manuhiri (visitors). I had been informed I could use both Maori and English, but arrived to find a change of plan and Maori only. I managed to muddle my way through and offer most of the seven sections of mihi whakatau (still need to do more work on my take (reason for meeting), which is considered the hardest section). In addition to duties on the paepae tapu (sacred threshold), I offered two papers.

One (abstract here)

Where #christmasangels tread tweet: Craftivism as a missiology of making

was the product of Outside Study Leave research, developing a presentation I gave at the Christchurch Cathedral last year but knitting (pun intended) in some data, 1100 tweets to be precise, of recipient responses to a piece of local church yarnbombing. This paper generated some really helpful insights, including twitter content creation as an act of “making.”

A second (abstract here)

Praying in crisis: an empirical study of how local churches respond in gathered worship to local and international tragedy and trauma

was a joint project with Lynne Taylor, which examined the responses of over 150 churches to the trauma that was the Christchurch massacre. This paper generated great discussion about the nature of prayer and what it means to relate to the other. We hope to do more on this, particularly find a way to do some follow-up focus group work with some of the churches who demonstrated “being with” (Wells, Incarnational Mission: Being with the World) sensibilities.

It was great in both papers to be working with empirical data and reflecting theologically on the lived expressions of the church. As I said in both the papers, by way of clearing my methodological throat:

Practical theology provides a way to undertake theologically rich and critical reflection on the concrete actions of the church (Swinton, From Bedlam to Shalom: Towards a Practical Theology of Human Nature, Interpersonal Relationships, and Mental Health Care (Pastoral Theology), 12). Actions, like craftivism, invite theological reflection because they are theory-laden, value-directed and as such profoundly saturated by meaning (Anderson, The Shape of Practical Theology: Empowering Ministry with Theological Praxis, 48). Empirical methods of research provide ways to research action and clarify theory and values, which can then be considered in light of the gospel and of church tradition. The insights that result from the dialogue between action-as-theological and wisdom from the tradition can inform further action. Hence practical theology is servant of, and prophet to, the life of the church in the world.

It is always an act of faith, offering a proposal 3 months out and always a relief when presentations land. In this case, having Outside Study Leave greatly helped; as did being able to take some days in lieu to be able to be part of ANZATS 2019.

Faith of girls and the mission of men

I write a column for Zadok, an Australian print publication, every quarter. It is a print based publication which they let me share on my blog, to resource more widely and generally. Here is my column for Autumn 2019, on gender and mission.

Faith of girls and the mission of men

When I hear talk of gender and faith, I think of Tarore, an indigenous Maori girl, born around 1826 in Aotearoa New Zealand.

Her father Ngakuku, came into contact with pioneer missionary couple, Rev Alfred and Charlotte Brown. Ngakuku’s daughter, Tarore, aged ten, showed an interest in learning to read and write, using a Maori language translation of Luke’s Gospel. She was a gifted student and quickly became an oral storyteller. Crowds, sometimes 200-300 people, would gather to hear Tarore share in Maori the Good Samaritan and Prodigal Son. Ten years old and a woman, she became known recognised in her Maori community as an evangelist.

This moment in the life of Tarore reminds me of Lo-ruhamah in Hosea 1 and Namaan’s wife’s slave girl in 2 Kings 5. All three are pre-pubescent girls and all three are agents of a new theology. God is made more real, more understandable, more present, through the faith of girls (For more, see The Faith of Girls, Routledge, 2017).

Tarore’s story is consistent with the history of mission. Time and again, the Gospel has spread not through missionary preaching but through indigenous proclamation. It begins with the Spirit at Pentecost as those from diverse cultures hear “in our own tongues” (Acts 2:11). The missionary is essential, Peter will preach but the Gospel spreads as people giving voice in their own language.

As 1836 ended, Tarore’s world grew increasingly tense, with increased conflict between local Maori tribes. On 18 October, Tarore was killed by a raiding party. At her funeral, her father, Ngakuku, proclaimed the need for forgiveness: “Do not you rise to seek a payment for her, God will do that. Let this be the finishing of the war. Now let peace be made.”

Meanwhile, Paora Te Uita, the man who killed Tarore, took her belongings, which included her beloved Gospel of Luke in Maori. Paora Te Uita couldn’t read. But he had a slave, Ripahau. Like Tarore, Ripahau had learnt to read through contact with missionaries. Ripahau read Luke (in Maori) to Paora Te Uita, who was deeply moved. He sought out Tarore’s family to seek forgiveness. Once again, we have a hearing in their own language and once again, we have an indigenous person, radically embodying the radical Gospel.

Meanwhile, Ripahau, upon release, returned to his home with Tarore’s copy of Luke. Those who listened included Katu Te Raauparaha, a local chief, who set out to make peace and halt a spiralling cycle of violence. Again, in the lives of Ripahua and Katu, we glimpse how faith is transmitted, carried by indigenous people who hear in their own language. (For more, see For more, see Nga Kai-Rui i Te Rongopai: Seven Early Maori Christians, Te Hui Amorangi ki te Manawa o Te Wheke, 2013).

I thought of Tarore when the news of the death of John Chau broke. John Chau was a twenty-six year old American, who made an illegal—and tragically fatal—voyage to visit a remote tribe in the Indian Ocean. The media sifted through John’s social media profile and suggested a range of motives: an adventuring spirit, Western optimism and a passion to reach the unreached.

Clearly there are differences between Tarore and John. One was indigenous and female, the other Western and male. One was a reciever of initial mission, the other wanted to be an initator of initial mission.

Yet there were also similarities. Both died early, with many years of life ahead. Both died at the hands of another. Both died in the context of missionary zeal and cross-cultural tension.

In the history of Christian mission, those who initiate mission have rarely been effective as proclaimers. Missiologist Lamin Sanneh examined the contradiction: Christianity has spread, yet rarely by missionary preaching. Sanneh, an adult convert from Gambia, became a Professor of Mission at Yale Divinity School. Sanneh argues that mission spreads as missionaries focus on translation. In Jesus, the Word becomes flesh and through the Spirit, the Word is heard in their own language. Sanneh calls this the “translatability” of the gospel (Translating the Message: The Missionary Impact on Culture, Orbis, 2009).

This has four benefits. First, it turns the missionary from initiator into a receiver of indigenous knowledge. Second, it makes local culture a carrier of grace, as God moves into the neighbourhood ( John 1:14), accessible through local language. Third, Bible translations tend to use popular language, a liberating move in hierarchical cultures. It results in a pre-teenage girl like Tarore being recognised as an evangelist. Fourth, no one culture is ever above critique. In Africa, among the Zulu people, translation resulted in the missionaries being told to read the Bible. Surely Genesis 27:16 affirm not the colonial safari suit, but indigenous practices of dressing in skins. Fifth, as people hear in their own language, they become agents of change. The cyles of violence in New Zealand cease as indigenous people embody the Good Samaritan and Luke’s radical call to forgiveness.

Tarore and Chau are very different, yet side by side, they teach us much about faith. There is great potential when missionaries are not initiators but learners and indigenous people are the primary Gospel heralds. That even in the unbearable pain of losing a child, peace can be made.

Theological Education as Development in Vanuatu published in Sites journal

Steve Taylor, Phil King, “Theological Education as Development in Vanuatu: ‘Wayfaring’ and the Talua Ministry Training Centre,” Sites: a journal of social anthropology and cultural studies 16 (1) 2019, 135-157.

Abstract
Education is essential to development. In Pacific cultures, in which the church is a significant presence, theological education can empower agency and offer analytical frames for social critique. Equally, theological education can reinforce hierarchies and dominant social narratives. This paper provides an account of Presbyterian theological education in Vanuatu. Applying an educative capability approach to a theological education taxonomy proposed by Charles Forman brings into focus the interplay between economics, context, and sustainability as mutual challenges for both development and theological education. However Forman’s model does not accurately reflect the realities of Vanuatu. An alternative frame is proposed, that of wayfaring, in which knowledge-exchange is framed as circulating movements. Wayfaring allows theological education to be imagined as a development actor that affirms local agency, values networks, and subverts centralising models. This alternative model provides a way to envisage theological education, both historically in Vanuatu and into an increasingly networked future, as an actor in Pacific development.

Key words: Vanuatu, theological education, wayfaring, Christianity, development

This is part of a full special issue on Christianity and Development in the Pacific, which began with Woven Together conference at Victoria University in 2016. New into the role of Principal, KCML, I used the conference as an opportunity to build connections with the Pacific, to collaborate with Phil King, in another part of the PCANZ and to learn about the partnership between PCANZ and Presbyterian Church of Vanuatu. Sites is a journal of social anthropology and cultural studies. It practices ‘delayed open access’, which means that the contents of the journal are made available in full open access 12 months after an issue is published.

I’m grateful to the conference organisors and journal editors, Philip Fountain and Geoffrey Troughton; to the Harrison Bequest which paid for one of the authors to travel to Talua for a ten-day immersion experience in 2017 and to the staff at the Archives Research Centre of the Presbyterian Church of Aotearoa New Zealand and the Hocken Collections, University of Otago, Dunedin for their tending of taonga.