Barbi Partlow, Certified Travel Consultant and Tahiti Tiare (specialist), recently visited one of her favorite islands – Raiatea, Tahiti. Here, Barbi shares a pre-Christmas cultural encounter that was both touching and meaningful to her and quite apropos as a Christmas Eve story. Enjoy!

We walked the 15-minute walk through the town of Uturoa to get to the quaint little church with creamy stucco walls and red roof. Smiling natives were decked out in their Sunday best. We’d heard of how wonderful it is to visit a Tahitian Christian church, and how the singing would bring a tear to our eyes. We were not to be disappointed.

A portly Tahitian woman in a flowered hat and bright dress smiled as we neared the entryway, and motioned us inside. Others looked at us with curiosity – our pale faces and somewhat casual attire seemed a bit out of place – but it didn’t feel like they were judging us … just giving us the “once over” to see why we’d come. As we entered, another woman led us down the aisle to a row towards the back on the left side of the sanctuary. We made ourselves comfortable, and it was fun to watch other folks streaming in. There were the smiling “mamas” sporting fancy straw hats and colorful dresses, and little brown-skinned children in flip flops and shorts squirming playfully in their seats.  A moment or two after we sat down, a lovely lady tapped us and motioned for us to move. It seemed that we were too far back, so we gathered our belongings and cameras and walked to a couple rows from the front where the lady indicated.

The simple alter and the podium were covered in flowers with leis of every color displayed. A wooden sign on the wall said “Te Fare o Te Atua,” which I translated the English meaning to be “The House of God.” A gentle breeze flowed through the open windows. There were no ceiling fans so the natural air conditioning was a welcomed amenity.

Music emanated from somewhere up front, but I never noticed a piano, organ or sound system. Two rows of seats were placed on each side of the podium facing the congregation. As the service began those seats were filled with a wide range of children and adults – men, women, girls and boys. Each clung tightly to a rumpled paper in their hand. As they sat down, some smiled demurely and some of the children looked a bit uncomfortable.

“Melodic voices belted forth in vowel-ridden Tahitian and it was magical!”

The congregation stood as more music began and spontaneous singing broke out. Melodic voices belted forth in vowel-ridden Tahitian and it was magical! We had no clue what was being sung but it was delivered with vigor. The most wonderful part of the continued singing was the voices of the children.  Harmonies to the flowing melodies formed in high and low ranges. We were mesmerized. The service was interspersed with readings delivered by the participants sitting in the seats facing the congregation. Perhaps all parts were scripture, but the unknown tongue resonated from each man, woman and child with conviction. Some of the younger ones timidly read their parts out loud, not looking up. Some of the older women recited their part from memory, while looking out at the congregation and delivering their message boldly and with emphatic inflection.

At the culmination of the service, congregation members broke out in buoyant song again, and it was delightful to listen to the voices we had traveled far to hear.

“Oh, how marvelous to be with people of faith in a foreign place!”

One last woman smiled broadly and spoke a lovely welcome to the visitors in broken English, beaming her gaze upon our noticeably white faces. We acknowledged her with smiles and at the end as we got up to leave, we went to the woman to thank her for her warm Tahitian welcome.  “Merci beaucoup, mauru’uru roa!” I told her, rolling my R’s as is fitting with the dialect. We were crossing the language barrier mostly with our smiles, but she seemed to appreciate the attempt at communication in the language of the locals. We kissed and hugged with that gentle European and island custom of a little peck on each cheek. Oh, how marvelous to be with people of faith in a foreign place! It showed us a piece of heaven, where one day all of the faithful will form a unified congregation, singing the music of heaven together. We were so happy to have been able to attend this special service. I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.

Streaming from the building in the intense heat, we noted the joyous demeanor of each person. “Mamas” were handing out bags of candy to the kids and an old woman stuffed a bag in my hand, insisting with her look and smile that I accept it. The service was apparently a pre-Christmas program dedicated to the children. How wonderful to come as a little child, wide-eyed, fidgety, but nonetheless an integral part of the worship service.

We walked the short walk back to town and reflected on our experience. It was agreed that this was a special time. Indeed, our visit to “Te Fare o Te Atua,” the House of God, will be among our cherished remembrances. Love in any language is just the same.