by Rev Megan Means
(Based on Luke 12:13–21; Job 12:7–13; Ro 8:18–22)
So how is the ground beneath our feet in this caring for creation season? There is a whakatauki: Ka ora te whenua, ka ora te tangata. When the earth is well, we are well. [Whakatauki is a Māori proverb – Ed]
We do live in an era now where everything is advancing incredibly fast. At present I am watching a re-run of Person of Interest, a 2010 TV programme about a mass-surveillance artificial intelligence programme, along with all its drama. However, there is a large difference and realisation today for me with the actual ability of the AI that was portrayed back when I watched it sixteen years ago, compared to now, where it is quite real. The advancements of AI, global communications, and technology can now reach us instantly from almost anywhere.
However, they do use a lot of power, and I think there is a growing lack of attention to the health of the environments in which we live. If the vessel that holds us is unwell, how can we realistically expect to be well? We cannot just isolate ourselves from modern technology or withdraw to a back of beyond place, because both would be separating us from what is happening in the world around us. This observation isn’t just from an environmental talking point; it is a spiritual mandate. It is the very heart of the Tīwaiwaka movement that it bridges ancient indigenous wisdom with the profound lessons of our scriptures.
As in the Job reading we also are challenged to look at the natural world. “Ask the beasts, and they will teach us: ask the birds of the heavens, and they will tell us.” Job goes on to ask, “Who among all these does not know that the hand of God has done this?” God reminds us that wisdom is found in the life of every living thing and even in the breath of humankind. “Wisdom is with the aged, and understanding is found in length of days.”
Tīwaiwaka is about reverence for the land. The movement was developed by Pā Ropata (Rob McGowan) from his lifelong work with rongoā Māori (herbal remedies made from native plants, traditional knowledge, and spiritual teachings) that he received from kaumātua and kuia [elders, male and female – Ed] on the Whanganui River. Pā Ropata understood something we may have largely forgotten. It is simply a way of summarising what traditional indigenous societies have always understood. The ancient realisation that human wellbeing cannot be separated from the wellbeing of the whenua [land – Ed] and the wider living world.
When we care for the mauri (the life force of the earth), we are not just ‘saving nature’. We are participating in a system of wisdom that has kept us alive for millennia. Ka ora te whenua, ka ora te tangata. When the earth is well, we are well.
So why are we overlooking this? Why is it so hard to prioritise the health of the whenua? Maybe, like the man in Jesus’s parable, we may have become obsessed with ourselves and a modern way of living.
In the Luke reading, a man comes to Jesus and demands his inheritance. Jesus refuses to be the arbitrator of his wealth. Instead, Jesus warns everyone, “Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of one’s own possessions.” Jesus paints a picture of a rich man whose land produced plenty. This man had everything he needed to survive. But what did he do? He didn’t think about his community, or the land that fed him. He looked at his crops and thought, “What shall I do, for I have nowhere to store my crops?” The man then decided to tear down his barns and build larger ones, telling his soul, “You have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.” God’s response? “This night your soul is required of you …”
The rich man may represent our modern obsession with ourselves. Many of us may focus a lot on our own security, comfort, and entitlements. We try to barn up our lives against uncertainty, and in doing so we may also be severing our connection to the Creator and to creation. Tīwaiwaka challenges us to move beyond a narrow, self-centred view and to prioritise care for the earth that is our living home. Can we look at the land as a gift to be cherished rather than a resource to be used?
Climate change, rising sea levels and ecological collapses are happening and are the symptoms of our disconnection from the whenua. Here in Tairua, we know what it means to live close to the estuary, the beach, the maunga [mountain – Ed], and the wider Coromandel whenua. When people here work to protect the dunes, keep rubbish out of waterways, plant natives, care for birdlife, and treat the coastline as a taonga [treasure – Ed] rather than a commodity, we see a living comparison to the rich man in Jesus’s parable. Instead of building bigger barns for ourselves, Tairua community shows us another way: a community that chooses and tries to store up care, gratitude and responsibility for the land that sustains us.
The Apostle Paul, in the Romans reading, describes a particular reality: “For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now.” Think about this imagery. Creation is not just passively suffering; it is actively groaning. It is in the throes of a massive transition. And Paul says something hopeful here. He says the creation is waiting with “eager longing” for the revealing of the children of God. Why the eager longing? Because creation has been subjected to futility. Paul does not present the earth as a disposable background to human life; he speaks of creation as bound up with our choices and waiting for freedom. We have too often treated the earth as ours to dominate, rather than as a gift to be stewarded. Creation wants to heal. It wants to thrive. However, it is waiting for us to stop the groaning by stepping up to our responsibility as stewards.
So, what does this mean for how we may live? There is more to healing than just healing people who are unwell, in a clinical sense. As long as we keep putting sticking plasters on the problems of humanity while the planet, that is our home, continues to deteriorate, we are merely delaying the inevitable. Our future becomes increasingly uncertain because we have forgotten where we came from.
Good health is not just about ensuring we are symptom-free or re-defining what it means to be healthy. It is about sustaining a balance that our living world needs, to be well. As Pā Ropata and the Tīwaiwaka movement teach, being well means being in harmony with the living world of which we are a part. It means realising that if the mauri, the life force, is strong, our communities are strong. If the rivers and sea flow clear, our minds are clear.
This kind of healing begins close to home. It begins in the way we speak about the land, the choices we make about what we consume, the way we treat waterways and coastlines, and the willingness to see practical environmental care as a spiritual practice rather than a separate concern.
We can continue down the path of entitlement, domination, and trying to force the world to bend to our will with technology and ego. Or perhaps we can choose a pathway to a more hopeful future – one that is grounded in reality. As we go forward, let’s make a commitment. Let’s shift our priority from that of hoarding barns to nurturing the whenua. Let’s recognise that climate change is a call to action. Let us remember the wisdom Ka ora te whenua, ka ora te tangata. Let us listen to the earth. Let us heal our connections with it. If the earth is well, then we can be well. And perhaps that is the inheritance God calls us to treasure: not to fill barns but rather treasure our living world, care for it with love, gratitude and hope.
Reference: An introduction to Rongoā Māori Traditional Māori Medicine; Rob McGowan (Pā Ropata)
