Kayaked to Church

Kayaked to Church

Today is Dimanche de Pentecote a religious holiday also encompassing tomorrow, Monday. As I am anchored right in front of the Anglican Church I dropped the kayak in the water and paddled to the service.

The historian in me once again came out. Pre white man Polynesia must have been as close to the Garden of Eden as is earthly possible. The people flourished and lived lives we can only dream about. No diseases, few wars, abundant food and perfect weather, isolated from the raging 18th century world—gee sounds good!

Then along came the tall ships. At first Captain Cook was revered and looked at as a holy man. Not long after the explorers came the missionaries, first Protestant and then Catholic—now putting these two “gangs” on the same small islands competing for the same soles had the same effect as inserting the Crips and the Bloods, violence and hatred.

The net effect of the missionaries was near apocalyptic. Death came to 70% of the population. The culture was all but destroyed and guilt and fear replaced uninhibited joy—greed replaced serenity and ruthless cruel governments replace long loved leadership. In later years the French took control forcing an unwanted language, a government ran from afar and if that was not enough, A bomb testing on the Tahitians.

The church has a strong place in the Tahitian culture today. I have attended several services and been moved to the core by what I experienced even though I do not understand a word and do not have much experience in Catholic or Anglican services— I do like the cookies though. It is strange to see the Tahitian statues adorned with flowers next to grossly inaccurate “white” statues of Jesus and Mary—any 3rd year anthropologist will tell you there are several ethnic and skin tone possibilities for our savior—white is not one of them.

All of this is forgotten when they sing… the songs they sing are straight from angels. It transcends history, culture and reality. The singing moves the soul and that is what spirituality is about. I walk in a skeptic and walk out tear y eyed and shaking. The singing is Grace in its purity. It is the portal to God.

So I entered a packed church today, packed with love and worship, why? It is a testament to the Tahitian people. All the atrocities, the forced change in culture and the litany of things that would cause other peoples to hate and live in anger just do not seem to pierce the Tahitian soul. Maybe it is genetic happiness, maybe it is engrained wisdom, or maybe it is just that they still live in paradise and have gratitude for lives we can only dream of… or maybe it is that God just smiles on them just a bit more, on what must be some of his favorite creations.