Hawaii - James Michener [186]
"But there would be no walls. A man sitting here," and he squatted on the ground, "could look up and watch the sky."
"Would that be wrong?" Kelolo asked.
"But a church always has walls," Abner replied slowly. He thought of every church he had ever seen in New England. The very essence of a church was that it have four rugged, square walls and a steeple above them. Even the pictures he had seen of churches in foreign lands showed four walls, and those that did not were clearly popish, so he said firmly, "We will build the church as before."
"It will be very hot," Kelolo warned.
"A church must have walls," Abner said, and he left the wondering kahunas.
The second difficulty could not have been foreseen, at least not by Abner Hale. It concerned Keoki Kanakoa, whose school was accomplishing wonders in bringing Hawaiian boys from the Stone Age into the present. Half the sailors aboard the Thetis, as it plied from Lahaina to Honolulu on weekly trips, were young men trained by Keoki. The boys who worked at the mission printing press, publishing the Bible, were his boys, too. In community life he was a rugged, dependable tower of Christian strength, and his Bible readings in formal services were inspiring. It should not have been surprising therefore -- but it was -- when Keoki appeared in Abner's grass house one day and asked, "Reverend Hale, when can I hope to be ordained a full minister?"
Abner rested his pen and looked at the young man in astonishment. "A minister?" he gasped.
"Yes, I was told at Yale that I must return to Hawaii and become a minister to my people."
"But you already work with them, Keoki," Abner explained.
"I believe I am ready to have a church of my own," Keoki suggested. "In some new part of the island where the people need God."
"But there can't be a church without a missionary, Keoki."
"Why not?" the handsome Hawaiian asked.
"Well . . ." Abner began. He threw down the pen. "I have no plans for ordaining Hawaiians," he said bluntly.
"Why not?" Keoki pressed.
"Well . . . It's never even been considered, Keoki," Abner explained. "You do excellent work in the school ... of course . . . but a full-fledged minister? Oh, No! That would be ridiculous. Impossible."
"But I thought you missionaries came here to educate us ... to get us ready to take care of ourselves."
"We did, Keoki!" Abner assured him. "You have heard me talk with your mother. I insist that she govern every aspect of the island. I touch nothing."
"You have been fine about that," Keoki acknowledged. "But the church is more important than the government."
"Exactly," Abner jumped. "The government could fail because of your mother's errors, and that would be no irremediable harm, but if the church failed because of your error . . . Well, Keoki, the damage could never be repaired."
"But how will you know whether I am strong enough to do God's work unless you test me?" Keoki pleaded.
"With the life of the church at stake, Keoki, we can take no chances."
"Does that mean that I can never become a minister? Here in my own land?"
Gravely, Abner leaned back in his chair and thought: "Somebody better tell him the facts." So he said coldly, "Would you have the strength, Keoki, to discipline your fellow Hawaiians as God requires? Would you seek out those who lead a lewd life and announce their names on Sunday? And track down those who drink? Would you dare to expel the alii who smokes? Could I trust you to use the right words in explaining the Bible? Or to refuse bribes when the alii want to join the church? Keoki, my dear son, you will never have the courage to be a true minister. For one thing, you are too young."
"I am older than you were when you became a minister," the Hawaiian pointed out.
"Yes, but I grew up in a Christian family. I was . . ."
"A white man?" Keoki asked bluntly.
"Yes," Abner replied with equal frankness. "Yes, Keoki, my ancestors fought for this church for a hundred years. From the day I was born I knew what a heavenly thing, what an inspired, divine