Malo e Lelei!
Six weeks ago I had never even heard of Tonga, or if I had it didn’t stick with me. Samoa? Yes. There are quite a few Samoans in Alaska, plus the famous Orthodox NFL linebacker Troy Polamalu is of Samoan Descent. Fiji? Best I could tell you is it was somewhere in the Pacific farther away than Hawaii. Along with Samoa, Fiji and a number of island groups Tonga is another group of Polynesian islands east of Australia and north of New Zealand- a region known as Oceania.
A few weeks ago I was looking for podcasts on Ancient Faith Presents when I noticed an interview titled: “New Zealand Missionary Fr. Paul Patitsas.” I thought to myself, ‘They have cool accents in New Zealand, I’ll check it out,’ and then clicked the link to download it to my phone. Fr. Paul described the work of the Holy Metropolis of New Zealand over the past decade and a half under recently-retired Metropolitan Amphilochios. I was intrigued to hear about all they had accomplished in New Zealand, Fiji, Samoa and Tonga in a relatively short time: several churches; two monasteries; an orphanage; a shelter for battered women; several native priests ordained; and hundreds of converts.
I thought how interesting it was that all this work was happening in a place I had barely heard of. Many people are familiar with the efforts of Orthodox Christians to bring the Faith to many places in Africa over the past 50 years or so, but who knew that some clergy and lay people were dedicating their lives to convert the people of Fiji? However, I’m interested in lots of things – it doesn’t mean I jump on a plane to check out a building project almost 6,000 miles away on a lark.
But then, late in the conversation, when asked by the interviewer John Maddex how listeners can help, Fr. Paul responded that people can pray, they can donate through OCMC, and then he said something I didn’t quite expect: “There are some people out there, I am hoping, who are hearing my words, and you know that I’m talking to YOU.” Much to my surprise, it was clear to me at once that those words were intended for me (and others also, I hope), and God had plans for me to help. I’ve had a few moments in my life where God made it crystal clear when He wanted me to take specific action, and this was definitely one of those times.
Long story short, after talking with my wife Meghan about it, I wrote an email to Fr. Paul explaining who I am and that I believe God called on me to reach out and help how I can. Would that mean moving to New Zealand and help grow one of the small Orthodox parishes already existing there? Perhaps I could help with a building at the monastery there? I left it to him to tell me what he thought.
His first words in response: “I accept!” He had spoken with the Archbishop, His Eminence Metropolitan Myron, who instructed that finishing an uncompleted church in Tonga was the current priority. He suggested I could try fundraising and put a group of skilled workers together from Alaska to come and work on the Church for three weeks.
OK, I have an assignment – now what? I started by speaking with my priest here at St. John Cathedral in Eagle River, Alaska, Fr. Marc Dunaway. He suggested I make a scouting trip and meet some folks from the diocese, look at the project in person, and come up with a proposal to present to the parish council. I relayed the general idea to Fr. Paul, who responded that the Archbishop invited me to come to Tonga – in 2 weeks! This was in March. I had been expecting to chit chat via email about the project and maybe head there during the summer or early fall. The Archbishop, however, had made plans to visit Tonga before I reached out, and his travel dates were already in place. So it was up to me: either I go or I don’t. With Meghan’s approval and Fr. Marc’s blessing I agreed, made my flight reservations, had my new passport expedited and off I went!
I never saw this coming, that’s for sure. It is all very surreal. But I think that’s the best part. This wasn’t my idea. I am just trying to respond to God’s Will, to obey, to use my talents in the ways God has laid out for me. We’re going to start with this short trip and see where it goes.
Now, I have everything ready – my neck pillow, my sunscreen, a wide-brimmed hat – and I’m headed to Tonga via Honolulu, Samoa & Fiji. 26 hours one way. I hate flying long distances.
I met a couple from Valdez on the flight to Honolulu. They had a sweet little boy 7 months old, who fussed a bit but overall did a great job. About a third of the way I got a nice big cup of coffee from the flight attendant which I promptly dumped square in my own lap. I didn’t even get a sip. Plus, I didn’t have a change of clothes on the plane. Fr. Paul said that frustration is part of the process of “Ierapostoli” (That’s the Greek Word for Holy Missions), so I took this in stride as part of the package and asked for another cup. I didn’t spill that one, thankfully.
I like to participate in the local language as much as possible when I travel, so I watched some of my Tongan Language instruction videos – I found a program on Udemy from a Mormon Missionary who spent a couple years there. For $20 I got three courses (about an hour each) which get you started learning the Tongan Language. He did a pretty good job, but without time to practice I still don’t actually know how to say anything, though I made up some flash cards as I went. The one thing that stuck is “Malo e Lelei,” which is used to say hello. Malo also means “Thank you.” That’s a good start. Most everybody in the capital speaks English anyway, so it’s not a big deal.
I had about 5 hours in Honolulu, but it was during the night so going into the city didn’t make sense. The flight to Fiji (via Samoa) was rather uneventful. I slept a lot of the way, and ate the “Totally ‘80s” tray meals they provided. They were decent, but definitely a throwback to a different era compared to what Alaska Airlines is serving these days.
In Fiji I got onto the internet and Skyped Meghan and the girls. Then it was a waiting game. I shared a bench with a guy who looked pretty darn Tongan, but I’m usually too shy to talk to people. We both ended up following the example of a family of 6 decked out in matching tropical-pattern shirts and dresses by kicking off our shoes and stretching out on the bench for a nap.
Off to Tonga. Turns out the guy on the bench is my neighbor on the flight as well. His name is George, and he comes from the Ha’apai group of islands. I told him about the Church of his patron saint, St. George, and he knew about it. We chatted about all manner of things, and toward the end of the flight he asked me to bring in a couple bottles of duty-free liquor. I initially declined, as getting into trouble for smuggling seemed like a terrible way to introduce myself to the people of Tonga. But it was a nice conversation, and George didn’t seem put off by my refusal of his request.
I got off the plane and as I walked along the tarmac I looked up to a balcony where people wait to receive their new arrival. could see Fr. Paul standing there against the fence, waving. I saw another hand from below as well, but didn’t see a body to go with it. Turns out Father Paul is quite tall, and the Archbishop is rather a short fellow. I got through customs easily enough and then George met me with a bag of liquor, asking me to take it through the gate. I had a strong feeling I should take the bag, and I think it was the right thing to do, as we’ll see later. I met Fr. Paul and His Eminence, who greeted me very warmly. We had to wait a few minutes for my new friend George to come relieve me of his contraband. He showed up shortly and I gave his liquor back – right in front of an uninterested cop – and we hopped in the car and started our drive to the Church.