Reflection for Queen Margaret Founders Day 

17th August 2025, 4PM  QMC  

By Rev. Dr Fei Taule’ale’ausumai 

I was named after my mum’s mum, Feiloaigamatausala but you can call me Fei.  My name means “the gathering of beautiful women” — Feiloaiga being “the gathering,” ma-tausala meaning “village maiden.” I’ve always loved the beauty of my name. My surname, Taule’ale’ausumai, means “young man who arrived early in the morning.” It’s part of a village legend — a story for another time. In my single days I would joke, “Why is it that the beautiful woman and the young man are taking so long to meet?” 

This afternoon, as we gather for Founders Day.  We are meeting here at QMC this year but for those of you are in your first year at QMC, every year we try to meet at St. Andrew’s on the Terrace where I am minister.  Unfortunately the church was unavailable this year.   

But today I am reminded of another gathering nearly two centuries ago, far from here, on the shores of a small village in Samoa called Faletagaloa Safune on the Island of Savaii.  My father Taule’ale’ausumai’s village.   

The year was 1830 the month of September; John William’s and his crew had arrived at a village on the Western side of Samoa called Faletagaloa, in Safune Savaii.  They had weighed anchor at Le Avatele but did not go ashore. 

The people on Savaii were just recovering from the bloody battles in which one of the high chiefs Tamafaiga had been killed, the warrior Goddess Nafanua had been victorious in many of these battles.  Williams and his ship of missionaries were looking for Malietoa Vaiinuupo as they had established a workable pattern throughout the Pacific by meeting with the high chiefs before proceeding to their task of missionisation. 

As they sailed towards Safune, the village people paddled out to meet them in their canoes.  Funefeai the high chief of that village had ordered for the occupants of the ship to be killed as many a bad story had been heard about the whalers wreaking havoc amongst the island women.   

As the villagers got closer they noticed a brown skinned man and sent a woman (who was dispensable) on board to offer them niu (drinking coconuts).  This brown skin man’s name was Fauea a Samoan who had hitched a ride back from Tonga and had been converted by the Tongan missionaries.  The Samoan woman’s name was Vi Laufanua,1 she discovered that this ship was a praying ship and in response she offered the first prayer on behalf of her people aboard that ship.   The first and the last offered independently and without sanction.  They then travelled on to the village of Sapapali’i in search of Malietoa. 

Many things changed as a result of this encounter, women who once enjoyed places of honour as the feagaiga/covenant were moved sideways for the new church leaders who took on the title of Faafeagaiga (covenant makers).  The Gospel wove its way into the lives of the Samoan people with great ease and authority and it was welcomed not only as a new spirituality but also as the new canon to rule the lives of the Samoan people.    

195 years later as a woman from that same village I have been called to ministry to once again offer the prayers of my village independently and without sanction. 

A Personal Journey — My First Sermonette 

In the late 1970s, even way before your parents were born my Sunday school at Glen Eden Pacific Islander’s. Church in Auckland had entered the Scripture Union annual competitions at the Unity Hall in Upper Queen Street. I was about fifteen at the time. I wasn’t one to volunteer for church activities — softball usually won out over Sunday commitments — but on the day before the sermonette competition, our minister asked for a replacement preacher after a boy pulled out at short notice. 

Before I could think, my hand shot up. I had never preached before. My verse was from Psalm 23: “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, thou anointest my head with oil, my cup runneth over.” My mind went blank. That night, I slipped a pen and paper under my pillow and prayed. At 3 a.m., I woke with words pouring out of me faster than I could write. By dawn, the sermon was complete — untouched, unedited. 

That evening, I was the first in my age group to preach. When the judges announced the results, they described the first-place winner’s passion before revealing her name. I stood behind the curtain thinking, “Wow, one day that will be me.” To my shock, they called my name. My feet felt like concrete. It was my first competition, my first sermon — and my first undeniable sense of God’s call to ministry. 

I’ve done some stupid things in my life, this one for me is up there.  In the 1980’s, the days before the internet—before Zoom, WhatsApp, or emails—I served on the Staffing Committee for the Council for World Mission. Our work took us across the globe, interviewing candidates for mission placements in far-flung corners of the world. Because remote interviews weren’t yet a thing, we had to be physically present. If the interviews were in London, then London it was. 

On one particular occasion, I was flown from Dunedin to London specifically for an interview round. I left on a Friday… and arrived on a Friday, thanks to the time zones. But it wasn’t just any Friday—it was a UK bank holiday. Offices were closed, and the usual contact points were out of reach. 

After landing at Gatwick, I sat down to retrieve my itinerary—the folder with all the important details: hotel name, meeting times, phone numbers, and addresses. That folder held everything. But it wasn’t there. 

Panic fluttered in my chest. I emptied and rechecked my bag, again and again. Still nothing. I had left the folder sitting neatly on my desk back in Dunedin. 

There I was, in London, with no idea where I was staying, who I was meeting, or how to contact anyone. It was a public holiday. The Council’s offices were shut. I was completely stranded. All that planning, the expense of the flights—and now, I didn’t even know what to do with myself. 

Then, in the middle of my rising anxiety, a still small voice said:  “Just check into a bed and breakfast. Sleep on it. You’ll know what to do in the morning.” 

So that’s exactly what I did. 

The next morning, I went down for breakfast and shared my predicament with the B&B owners. They listened kindly, and then the woman offered an unexpected piece of advice: 

“Why don’t you just tip the contents of your bag out onto the table?”  I thought, What good will that do? But I humoured her, and we poured everything onto the table. As we rummaged through, she picked up a scrap of paper and held it up.  “This looks like a UK phone number—why don’t we try ringing it?” 

I stared at the number. I had no idea why it was there or who it belonged to. But we called it anyway. 

A voice answered on the other end:
“Hello, Mary Marsden speaking.” I knew her she was also on the Staffing Committee.   

My heart leapt. 

“Mary! It’s Fei, from New Zealand.” 

“Oh Fei!” she exclaimed. “You know we’re sharing a room together!” 

I could hardly believe it. Who knew she was my roommate for the weekend?   

Mary gave me all the details I had forgotten—we were staying at the Salvation Army Valden Hotel, and the meeting was scheduled for that very afternoon. 

If I hadn’t found that little scrap of paper… if I hadn’t stayed the night… if I hadn’t listened to that quiet voice… I would have flown all the way to London and flown back having done absolutely nothing. A complete waste of a journey—except that it wasn’t. 

They say God moves in mysterious ways. I believe that with all my heart. This was one of those miracles in my life where everything could have gone wrong, and yet, somehow, everything fell into place.  Oh ye of little faith.  Thank you God.   

Like the first story I shared about the praying ship.  In many ways, Queen Margaret College has also been such a “messenger of peace” in Wellington for generations. Founded on the values of faith, learning, and service, it has sent young women into the world equipped not only with knowledge, but with a sense of justice, compassion, and courage. Our founders imagined a place where education would not simply fill minds, but shape hearts for leadership in family, community, and the wider world. 

Today, as we mark Founders Day, we remember that our mission — like that of the Messenger of Peace — is not complete. The seas of our time are no less restless. The waves of division, inequity, and misunderstanding still break against our shores. Yet, in the same way like the Gospel ship anchored at Safune, we are called to anchor ourselves in Christ’s peace, to be steady amid the storms, and to carry that peace wherever the currents of life take us. 

May we continue to be, each in our own way, bearers of that same message — across oceans, across cultures, across generations — so that our lives, too, might be living messengers of peace.   

(TIME PERMITTING)  I want to finish with a poem I wrote called Women’s Spirituality.  It was written at Third World Personnel in Europe Conference, Germany  and Published by the European Mission Society, Stuttgart, and in Decade for Women, World Council of Churches Women’s Desk.   

Woman’s Spirituality 

By Rev. Dr. Feiloaiga Taule’ale’ausumai 

Where can I go to find my sacred space? 

Everywhere I go I am put here, there, 

Because I have no control. 

Aha, food glorious food… 

Can I find an expression of my spirituality in my cooking, 

In my home? Yes, 

This is my sacred space. 

Sometimes I eat the leftovers, 

As long as I have my sacred space. 

I want to dance, 

But I am told I’m too sensuous, or too fat. 

Again, I am controlled by a man’s thoughts 

And uncontrolled desires. 

I commune with God in all things, 

I go to church and look for God in the small glasses of wine 

And I see nothing, 

But I share in one bowl of rice with my friends 

And there I see God alive 

In the people around me. 

I laugh, I cry, I eat from a banquet, 

I nibble on a little biscuit. 

Maybe God is in the fullness 

And in this emptiness too. 

God, are you there in my isolation, 

My desolation?

God, you are man, you are woman 

I am woman not because I can give birth, 

Or cook or clean. 

I am woman because I am created in 

Your image. 

I know that when I suffer, You suffer. 

When I laugh, You laugh. 

YES, 

God, you are all around me. 

AMEN.  

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Audio of selected readings and reflections

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Audio of the complete service