A Treasure

Sometimes I am at a loss about what to write. Either I’m at that emptied out phase or too full to even process everything storming at us and through us. So many others I’ve talked with seem to feel the same. What is there to say? About our world?  About our lives?  Even about women’s leadership and ministry?

But, of course, there is always inspiration.  In fact, I think we are uniquely called at this time of both fatigue and overload to seek out inspiration through examples of wisdom in people around us, especially women.

With that in mind, I was grateful someone sent me a liturgy from a small Eucharistic community that included a poem and short writing by the New Zealand’s young, energetic, and amazingly insightful and effective Prime Minister, Jacinda Ardern, whom I had long admired. Her handling of a devastating earthquake in her country, a violent attack on a Mosque, and particularly of the coronavirus in her country as well as her unfailing support of the indigenous and marginalized are triumphant affirmations of what happens when the gifts of women are allowed their full power. By the way, during her current term in office she also gave birth and is raising a toddler. It seems we women can have both a complementary role and a full role as leader and “Minister” in all senses of the word.

She is also a champion of the environment, and so especially dear to my heart.  I offer you a poem she recently wrote (Talk about gifts!) as inspiration and nourishment for the days ahead:

Mother Earth

Rest now, e Papatūānuku
Breathe easy and settle
Right here where you are
We’ll not move upon you
For a while
We’ll stop, we’ll cease
We’ll slow down and stay home
Draw each other close and be kind
Kinder than we’ve ever been.
I wish we could say we were doing it for you
as much as ourselves
But hei aha
We’re doing it anyway
It’s right. It’s time.
Time to return
Time to remember
Time to listen and forgive
Time to withhold judgment
Time to cry
Time to think
About others
Remove our shoes
Press hands to soil
Sift grains between fingers
Gentle palms
Time to plant
Time to wait
Time to notice
To whom we belong
For now it’s just you
And the wind
And the forests and the oceans and the sky full of rain
Finally, it’s raining!
Ka turuturu te wai kamo o Rangi ki runga i a koe
Embrace it
This sacrifice of solitude we have carved out for you
He iti noaiho – a small offering
People always said it wasn’t possible
To ground flights and stay home and stop our habits of consumption
But it was
It always was.
We were just afraid of how much it was going to hurt
– and it IS hurting and it will hurt and continue to hurt
But not as much as you have been hurt.
So be still now
Wrap your hills around our absence
Loosen the concrete belt cinched tight at your waist
Rest.
Breathe.
Recover.
Heal –
And we will do the same.

If you want to read her translation of the Maori words and some further comments:

“Jacinta Ardern added: thank you for the amazing response to this poem! I never expected it to travel so far and wide. Many people have asked who the author is so I wanted to clarify that I wrote this poem on the train home after the announcement of total lockdown was made here in Aotearoa, New Zealand.

I felt like I could hear Papatūānuku exhaling in relief as we all began our journeys home. In truth, one month of lockdown is not enough. Even six months would not be enough! We need a total and sustained change of habit, globally and within our own communities. I hope so much we take our time to reflect on the fact that if we can do it to save ourselves for a month, we ought to be able to make similar habit changes for Mother Earth for the long term. The most telling thing for me was how empty our veggie plant aisles were after lockdown was announced – in a crisis, we will turn back to our mother to provide (and of course she will!).

Lots of people have asked for translations…

e Papatūānuku – Mother Earth (the addition of the ‘e’ in front signals the words are addressed or spoken directly to her.)

Ka turuturu te wai kamo o Rangi ki runga i a koe – means something like, ‘tears from the eyes of Ranginui drip down on you’ (Ranginui is our sky father, it is common to refer to rain as the tears of Rangi for his beloved, from whom he was separated at the beginning of time in order that there could be light in the world).”

Not long after the announcement we were moving to level 3 (of reopening), it poured with rain in Porirua after many months of hot and dry weather. I could feel my garden rejoicing. Hei aha – This can be translated in many ways, but I meant it like the English ‘oh well, whatever’.

He iti noaiho –‘something small’. Because our sacrifice feels enormous but in reality I think it is not sufficient to truly see Papatūānuku recover. However, in Maori, we often talk about the significance of small actions or gestures. We say ‘ahakoa he iti, he pounamu’.  Although it is small, it is a treasure.