Where the Day Begins and Ends
Diocesan Press Service. December 10, 1965 [XXXVIII-2]
Ralph S. Dean, Executive Officer, Anglican Communion
It is almost unbelievable that each and every day should' begin and end in the same diocese - the Diocese of Polynesia where I am as I write. Yet it is true. Perhaps it becomes more credible when you realise that the diocese straddles the International Date Line and also that it covers an area of eleven million square miles, even if, as has been often said, most of it is wind and water. Anglican worship begins its world-wide devotion each day in the lovely Holy Redeemer Church on the fabulous island of Levuka, beloved of Rudyard Kipling, and Anglican worship is brought to a close each day in Apia in Western Samoa. So all the rest of us are cradled each and every day by the prayers of the people of this tremendous diocese. It is an intriguing thought.
As I write, I am about to leave for Melanesia, and in the week I could spare here I have naturally seen only the tiniest fraction of Polynesia, visiting the main islands of the Fijian Group - Viti Levu, where the capital, Suva is; Levuka, which was the original capital; and Vanua Levu, the second largest Fijian island. "Polynesia" means "many lands" and therefore many peoples. It is the first thing that strikes a visitor. Jolly mop-haired Fijians, Indians (who considerably outnumber the Fijians), paler brown Tongans and Samoans, darker-skinned Solomon Islanders - the descendants of the "black-birded" Islanders of a generation or two ago, Chinese, Japanese, the descendants of the "Mutiny on the Bounty" episode, Europeans, Australians, and New Zealanders - all are to be found here.
It is utterly impossible to give any adequate picture in an article - that must wait for my book at the end of my period of service - so I can offer only a few verbal snapshots from the bewildering assortment that fills my mind. There are so many things I shall have to omit that I can only hope my new-found friends in Polynesia will forgive me. Somehow I feel sure they will, for they are a gentle, loving and understanding people.
One snapshot is of the magnificently- unfinished cathedral in Suva, beautiful to my mind just because of its ugly unfinished condition. Of course, there are plans for its completion, but MRI and the Congress have changed all that. The finishing of the cathedral here is far down on the agenda. Ruefully I wished that this attitude were more common than it is. This is no time for vast cathedrals anywhere, and if that makes some of my friends angry, then I must express sorrow but not penitence.
A lovely sung Eucharist, an incredibly multi-racial congregation, the elements presented by two little girls - one Anglo-Saxon and one Indian, the wholehearted singing of the lilting and so sing-able American Folk Mass, the sense of one-ness in the most comfortable sacrament of our Saviour's Body and Blood - an unforgettable memory.
Earlier in the day (at 7:30 a. m.) I had celebrated and preached at St. Luke's, Laucala Bay, an astonishing congregation, mostly Indian, under the leadership of the even more astonishing Dr. George Hemming - for 30 years both priest and doctor, who runs not only the parish but the remarkable J. P. Bayley Clinic (which is always packed with patients, as I found - and for practically nothing) as well as organising food distribution, family adoption, an unemployment scheme, a low-cost housing project, and a private practice as well! We talked a lot about professional men as priests and there could hardly be a better example.
A wonderful and stimulating day with the theological students at St. John's College, Suva, where a dozen or so men - Tongans, Fijians, Samoans, etc., - quizzed me keenly. As a Canadian bishop, I naturally rejoiced to see the Rev. Ralph McKim c the faculty of the college, to see his zest in his work and to see his wife so charmingly grappling with a situation and a culture which is a far cry from Hamilton, Canada. The Bishop in Polynesia - a friendly and dynamic giant indeed - is determined on an indigenous ministry and St. John's must rejoice his heart.
And everyone must meet the Archdeacon, soon to retire. The Venerable C. W. Whonsbon-Aston has served 35 years in the South Pacific and must surely be the only man who has served from virtually end to end of this vast diocese, as well as in others in the South Pacific, He has written several little books (in one of which he only half-laughingly claims the moon as part of the Diocese of Polynesia) and must one day surely write a magnus opus. He is a mine of fascinating, salty, realistic information.
Let's leave Suva and go by the good ship "Blue Lagoon" on a two hours' run to Levuka. Bede Frost served here years ago and the Church is dear to the people. It is full of the happiest memories for me but I must not stay for them, but mention one significant social and therefore evangelistic project which engages much of the attention and energy of the diocese. It concerns the descendants of the "indentured" Solomon Islanders of two generations ago, who were "black-birded" to work on the sugar-cane plantations which are totally predominant in the Fiji Islands. They have no land and therefore cannot grow crops, and are desperately poor. Thanks to the help of Inter-Church Aid and some of the results of MRI, the diocese has acquired a wonderful property of some 465 acres which will allow the building of houses for at least 30 families who will have 10 acres each at virtually nominal rent and have room for a school, a church, and a community hall as well.
It holds marvellous promise - and it needs help.
Meanwhile, the Church has bought a piece of rocky land (which no-one wants) at least as steep as the sides of the Frazer Canyon in Cariboo, and here in meagre little tin-roofed shacks the Solomon Islanders gratefully live. I climbed up all the way to this village of Wailailai, was signally honoured by the villagers, and ate a feast which coming from open- air wood fires in rainy weather (for there are no kitchens as such) was a masterpiece of culinary art - even if I wasn't sure what I was eating. The whole thing is the Gospel in action indeed. Anyone would be proud to have a share in it.
My space has gone. Last night in the little village of Rambhag near Labasa, at an evening service for Indian people (who have already provided one son for the priesthood) held in the open air and just before supper, a smiling shy little Indian girl garlanded me with a jasmine wreath. The fragrance lingers on. So does the fragrance of Polynesia. But it needs more than fragrance. What are we waiting for? Happy New Year!