On Christmas Day, 1814, at Oihi in the Bay of Islands, Samuel Marsden stood before a pulpit to preach the first Christian sermon on Aotearoa soil, and speaking from the 2nd Chapter of the Gospel of Luke, he said “I bring you glad tidings of great joy.”

These words are our Gospel beginnings, and our inheritance:

“I bring you glad tidings of great joy.”

Of course, these English words would not have been understood by the Māori audience, if not for the assistance of the famed Ngāpuhi chief, Ruatara.

We all know that Ruatara translated Samuel Marsden’s sermon for the Māori audience, and probably deserves as much credit as Marsden for preaching that day.

What is not so well-known is that Ruatara himself built the platform, the seating, the reading desk, and the pulpit that Marsden used to deliver the Gospel that day. You could say that’s been a work of generations of Māori ever since – providing a platform for the delivery of the Gospel.

Māori gifted thousands of acres of land, donated materials and raised funds to build mission stations and churches, and enriched the settler church even while impoverishing themselves. Such was their belief in the promise of the Gospel:

“I bring you glad tidings of great joy.”

The Gospel that Marsden and Ruatara preached began to flourish in Aotearoa. Entire Māori communities took up the faith, and joined together with the burgeoning numbers of settlers in sharing and preaching the Gospel.

Within four decades of that first sermon, the Church had spread far and wide, and the congregations grew immensely. In 1857, the Church formally adopted a Constitution that arraigned the Church with structure and hierarchy. Sadly, this was done without Māori input or inclusion, even though Māori formed the majority of the Anglican congregation in Aotearoa at the time.

Dioceses such as Waiapu sought to retain close and just relationship with Māori in their regions, with Waiapu notably holding it’s first four Synods entirely in the Māori language. However, as Māori inclusion in decision-making bodies diminished, so too did the inclusion of their language, their culture, and the memory of the generous gifts of land and support that helped to establish the Church in Aotearoa.

“I bring you glad tidings of great joy.”

It was not until 1860 – some 46 years after that first sermon – that the first Māori Anglican Priest would be ordained. His name was Rota Waitoa, and it took much tenacity and patience on his part before the Church came to allow a Māori to be priested.

It was not until 1928 – some 114 years after that first sermon – that the first Māori Bishop was ordained. His name was Fredrick Augustus Bennett, and he was to be a Bishop Suffragen, ministering subject to the permission of Pākeha Diocesan Bishops, and holding no voting rights at General Synod.

Both Rota and Fredrick were paid less than their Pākeha counterparts, with the prevailing logic being that Māori could and should sustain themselves from their own land. I’m sure the irony was not lost on Māori at the time.

It was not until 1978 that the Bishopric of Aotearoa was formally recognised by the Church, and it was not until 1981 that the Bishop of Aotearoa was recognised as a Bishop in full-standing. It was also the first time that the Bishop of Aotearoa was elected by his own Māori people. Prior to this the Bishop of Aotearoa was chosen by the three Pākeha Diocesan Bishops in the North Island.

And so it was, in 1992, through a revision of the Constitution of the Church, that the Bishopric of Aotearoa became fully autonomous and able to order itself according to its own Tikanga and values.

It had only taken 178 years, many prayers, and much struggle, after that first sermon. But Māori were able to say:

“I bring you glad tidings of great joy.”

In my 65 years as an ordained minister, I have witnessed this church changing and growing. The Church I grew up in had much in common with the Church that Marsden and Ruatara founded – we held fast to the 1662 Book of Common Prayer and the majesty of it’s Māori language version, The Rawiri. We stayed true to the Authorised Version of the Holy Scriptures – the venerable King James Version of the Bible first completed in 1611.

Since then I have seen rapid change and growth in the Church. More change and more growth than I think Marsden and Ruatara could have ever imagined. We have new liturgies, new Prayer Books, and dozens of new versions of The Bible. We have new ways of ministering, new ways of being, and new ways of preaching the Gospel.

These changes haven’t always come easy. For the most part they have been fraught with tension and misunderstanding. But the loom of the Gospel has continued its work and woven us together, strand by strand, through warp and weft, and held us together in tension.

I have seen many wonderful things in my time. This includes the first Māori Bishopric, and the joy of Māori as they’ve been freed to worship in their own language and culture. They’re joy too at being included once more in the decision-making bodies of the Church.

Who would have thought in my day, in those early days, that one day there would be a Māori Archbishop. It was almost inconceivable in those early days. And then there was Sir Paul Reeves, and Sir Whakahuihui Vercoe, and of course little ol’ me.

“I bring you glad tidings of great joy.”

There is great joy in our Gospel history. Occasionally we got things wrong. More often than not we got things right … eventually.

We still have a lot of work to do. We need to pray with each other, discuss with one another, and listen to God.

Let us not be afraid to challenge and change in the ways that our forebears did. Perhaps if we learn from their example, we will come to a place where we can say, “In Christ we move forward together.”

And perhaps then, we could turn to each other and say with all hope and sincerity:

“I bring you glad tidings of great joy.”