Opening Spaces
Geoff Troughton | Wednesday, 28th March, 2018
Reading Doug Hynd, Cat Noakes-Duncan, Val Goold and Vern Jantzi’s responses to Saints and Stirrers, my immediate feeling is one of immense gratitude – both to the authors, and to Philip Fountain for making space for this engagement with the book. New projects always begin with great expectancy. Questions arise, ideas take hold, and all kinds of possibilities unfold in the intensity of research and writing. But one never really knows if others will share an interest in the issues and questions animating this work, much less read the final product or interact seriously with it. I’m exceptionally grateful for the care, thoughtfulness and acuity of the authors’ readings of the Saints and Stirrers, for their astute questions, and enlightening observations. These have provided fresh insights and new questions to ponder. This is a rare and precious treat.
One of my central ambitions in this work, and its companion volume Pursuing Peace in Godzone, has been to open up space for fresh thinking about Christianity, peace, and traditions of dissent in the New Zealand context – as well as for the critique of national mythologies and historiographies. I am delighted that my conversation partners have captured this intent, as their responses evidently indicate. Doug and Vern’s reflections both highlight that while there are certain New Zealand particularities in the stories told, there is also much to be gained by comparing and contrasting with other settings – notably though not exclusively with Australia. Striking commonalities and overlaps certainly exist between New Zealand and Australian history, but there are also substantial differences. Both warrant much closer attention. Conflicts and difficulties arising as a consequence of imperialism and colonisation, nationalism and militarism all have their national refractions but the impact of these movements and ideologies has clearly transcended national boundaries. We might compare and contrast national histories. But one wonders what might also emerge from an account of Christian engagements with peace that was deliberately trans-Tasman, or more broadly Pacific in scope.
I was profoundly moved by Vern and Cat’s reflections on their personal histories and traditions, and their descriptions of the ways in which they found these addressed in different ways within the book’s narratives. These reflections prompted me to think again about my own background and formation. I was reminded particularly of my paternal grandfather, Hessell, who returned from missionary service in Japan in 1939 just prior to the outbreak of the Second World War. During the War, New Zealand opened a camp for up to 800 Japanese POWs in Featherston in the lower North Island. They were not treated well. In 1943, 48 POWs and one guard were killed during a riot. Tensions ran high, and in this setting my grandfather was appointed as a chaplain to the POWs. Entering camp, despite the volatility of the situation, he routinely declined to be accompanied by military guards. He refused to bear arms, or to have others do so for his protection, regarding these as inimical to his pastoral task as a minister of the gospel of Christ.
My grandfather’s story is a remarkable one, about which more could be said. Yet what strikes me particularly here is that he was neither a pacifist nor a strict objector to war. Many of the subjects of Saints and Stirrers were. Many, however, were not, but nevertheless found themselves compelled by their faith to resist violence and pursue peace – to the best of their ability – in all kinds of complex and messy situations. We find examples of Christians interacting with the state, and in society, in different ways – as initiators and respondents, as individuals and in groups – often fumbling their way towards faithfulness in difficult, dynamic situations. I find this full spectrum of serious, risky and often costly commitment to peacemaking compelling. And also inspiring and intriguing by turns. The book does not seek to cast judgment on its protagonists’ efforts, though with the benefit of hindsight it will be evident that these stories are steeped in ambiguity. Readers will no doubt warm more or less to different subjects’ approaches, for as Val points out, “stirrers” are not always easy or especially likeable people! Yet such colour and nuance is precisely what makes these stories so engaging and, I think, instructive.
Saints and Stirrers does not aim to provide a comprehensive account of Christian peacemaking during the era addressed, but it does provide a broad and thorough treatment. It is my hope that these accounts will provide reliable guidance to those who want to know and understand this history better. But more than this, I hope it will serve as a provocation. There are many more such stories that deserve to be uncovered and told. I’m convinced that sitting with such accounts can be profoundly transforming, and can help to fire the moral imagination.
Geoff Troughton is a Senior Lecturer and Programme Director of Religious Studies at Victoria University of Wellington. His work focuses mainly on New Zealand religious history, about which he has written extensively. He lives in Karori, Wellington with his wife Adrienne and their four rapidly growing children.