2/17/74

Scripture: Read Luke 2: 8-14.

The Scripture passage which I have just read is one that we most often see, and hear, at Christmas time when we celebrate the birth of Jesus. But it does not have to wait for a December reading only. When the Rev. Hiram Bingham preached his very first sermon after arriving on Oahu in 1820 with the first company of missionaries, he chose as his text this verse (10b) from the second chapter of Luke: “I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.” Then he proclaimed the good news of Jesus Christ to his Hawaiian hearers. But, though that occasion was the beginning of a new era in the Hawaiian Islands, it was the end, or climax, of an eventful decade and more preceding that time.

Late in the 18th century there were some fearful wars among Hawaii’s people. The Big Island leader and warrior, Kamehameha, set about subduing not only the chiefs of that island but, later, all of the island group, welding them into a single kingdom for the first time. He himself became the first king and is known in history as Kamehameha I (or sometimes Kamehameha “the Great.”) In the course of the earlier tribal wars on the Big Island, when the losing forces were ruthlessly killed by the winning forces, whole families were wiped out. One such family was that of the boy whose memory we celebrate today.

The young boy, Opukahaia, saw his father and mother killed by their enemies. With his baby brother on his back, he himself ran as best he could and as far as he was able. But the pursuing warrior was able to run faster. With strong arm and sure aim the man hurled his spear, killing the baby on the boy’s back. For some reason, he did not kill the boy too, but, seizing him, took him back a captive, now an orphan, a boy alone. From the memoirs of Henry Opukahaia, written years later, we can read what he says: “The same man which killed my father and mother took me home to his own house. His wife was an amiable woman, and very kind, and her husband also; yet, on account of his killing my parents, I did not feel contented.” I should suppose that neither you nor I would feel very good under those circumstances!

So the boy was, strangely enough, not only a prisoner to the man who had killed the others of his family, but was now a kind of adoptive son in that same man’s household. He lived with this “honai” father for more than a year. The local warring was over and finally the boy’s uncle, who was a kahuna, or native priest, heard of him and came to persuade the man to let the lad go free. “We are his own family,” said the uncle, “and we wish to take the boy home with us. Is it not right that he should be with those who are his father’s people?” The man did not want to release Opukahaia, but he finally agreed. And he said to the uncle: “If the boy goes to live with you, you must take care of him as I myself have done.” So the lad went with his uncle, who thus became his new “honai” father, and they lived in the uncle’s house at Napoopoo on the shore of Kealakekua Bay.

Since the uncle was a kahuna, he decided to train the boy to be a priest too. Day after day, Opukahaia was taught to get up early, to memorize the prayers and ceremonies of the “heiau,” and to do all those things that would make him a good priest, pleasing to the gods which Hawaiians of that day believed they must worship. But there was still sadness and restlessness in his life, whenever he thought of his murdered family, and his loneliness without them. In his memoirs he wrote: “While I was with my uncle, for some time I began to think about leaving that country to go to some other part of the world. I did not care where I shall go to. I thought to myself that if I should get away, and go to some other country, probably I may find some comfort, more than to live there without father or mother. I thought it will be better for me to go than to stay.”

Well, he did stay at Napoopoo for several years, until he was 16 years old, learning to be a kind of “apprentice priest.” But one day he looked out and saw a ship anchored in Kealakekua Bay. He wondered where that ship came from and where it might be going. In order to find out, he plunged into the waters of the Bay and swam out to the ship “Triumph.” A sailor took him to Captain Brintnall. The captain looked at the strong young swimmer, studied his face carefully, and, before the day was over, invited Opukahaia to sail with the crew on that ship to the United States of America!

Here was his chance! But when he asked his uncle’s permission, the answer was No -- “Aole!” And the uncle shut him up in a room to keep him there until he should get over that foolish notion. Opukahaia’s grandmother came to beg him not to leave. But he was determined. Later, he found a hole in the grass house, slipped through the “puka” and fled back to the ship. His uncle came out in a canoe to get him. The captain and crew watched while boy and uncle talked. Finally the two of them made a strange bargain. As the boy said later, his uncle would not let him go “unless I give him a pig for his god.” So, “after that,” he says, “my uncle would not delay me no longer, and I took my leave of them and bid them farewell.”

And that is how, in the year 1808, this boy, who traded himself for a pig, sailed from Kealakekua Bay on the ship “Triumph,” leaving behind him an angry uncle, a weeping grandmother, his murdered parents and baby brother, and all of the boyhood experiences. The voyage was a long one. First they went to China. On the way, Captain Brintnall and the crew taught Opukahaia to scrub decks, climb the rigging, box a compass, sight a star, skin a seal, and how to spell out some of the words in a book --- that was entirely new to him. His people had no books from which to gain knowledge. They taught and learned only by word of mouth and by example. The captain and crew found it a little bit hard to call the boy by his Hawaiian name, Opukahaia. So they decided to call him “Henry.” There was one other Hawaiian boy also on board, whose name was Hopu, and the crew called him “Thomas.”

They had some adventures. Somewhere between Hawaii and China, Thomas fell overboard while trying to bring up a bucket of water. He almost drowned, while the ship took nearly 2 1/2 hours to come about and pick him up. But he was a good swimmer, so he managed to stay alive until he could be rescued. Another time they ran out of rations. For several days, each man had only one hard biscuit and a pint of water each day -- no other food, or fruit, or meat or fish. Somehow they lived through it.

About a year after Opukahaia and Hopu had come aboard in Hawaii, after thousands of miles of sailing, in storm and calm, in sun and rain, in safety and danger, the ship Triumph arrived back in New York harbor and dropped anchor. The crew were paid off and went to their homes. But where were Henry and Thomas to go? They had no homes in this land! They could look for another ship that might let them join the crews and sail back to Hawaii. But there was much here that was interesting to them. They saw things that were new to them. For instance, they noticed that men and women could eat together. At that time this was something that was strictly forbidden back in Hawaii. And they found that people seemed kindly toward them.

It was Captain Brintnall who invited them to go home with him to New Haven, Connecticut. And so they went along to new Haven, which became to them like a new home. New Haven not only had a good harbor; it also had an excellent college for young men called Yale. One day, Henry Opukahaia walked to that college to sit on the steps of one of the buildings and watch the students go by on their way to classes. Under their arms, these young men, not much older than himself, carried books. He understood that, in those books, there was knowledge which he did not have, and which he wanted. His eyes were eager, but his heart was sad. How could he learn the things in those books?

We don’t know how long he sat there, or how many passed him by; or how he may have appeared to them with his rough sailor’s clothing and boots, his brown skin all weathered at sea; and his eager, questioning face. But we do know that something finally happened that changed his life. A young student named Edwin Dwight stopped and spoke to Henry. Seeing the young Hawaiian boy looking so forlorn, Edwin Dwight asked, “What is wrong, friend? And why are you sad?” “Because,” said Opukahaia, “No one gives me learning.” Dwight said, “Do you wish to learn?” “I do,” said the boy. And so Edwin Dwight said to him, “Come with me.” It was that simple --- “come with me.” And Henry went. By that time, he was 17 years old -- just about the age when a lot of young folk nowadays are becoming high school seniors. And, helped by various interested college students, this boy who had traded himself for a pig, began to learn from books. He learned other things, too. While he was becoming acquainted with reading and writing the English language, some history, arithmetic, geography and the Bible, he learned how many people continued to be kind to him.

Some time later, when he needed another place to stay, the students took him to see the president of Yale College - Dr. Timothy Dwight. And President Dwight invited Henry to live with the Dwight family in their home. It was a warm, Christian home. Once more, Opukahaia had a kind of “honai” father in Rev. Mr. Dwight, and a family that was interested in him. Of that family, he said, “I could not always understand what they said in prayer, but I doubt not that these good people prayed for me.” The New England winters were cold. Henry had his introduction to ice and snow and the necessity for really warm clothing and for warming fires in the home. But he also had the experience of warm and friendly hearts among the people he lived with and studied with. There was so much to learn. There was also so much to earn. So he worked hard during summer vacations on New England farms. And if he got sick, the people for whom he worked would get a doctor, and would care for him until he might be well again.

Other things, beyond earning and learning, came to his mind as he mixed his new knowledge with his memories, and as he thought deep thoughts about the people who befriended him, and as he thought of the people back in the islands which he still called his real home. He might ask such questions as, “What is right and what is wrong?” “Who made us and why are we here on earth?” “Who is this God of whom Christians tell and to whom they pray?” And also, “What shall I do with my life?” He began to see the foolishness of gods made by human hands. He began to believe in the great God who made him and who creates us all. After much thought, this young fellow who had once been trained to be a “kahuna” at the “heiau” decided that he, too, wanted to be a Christian. He began to believe, “God is my Father. I will try to do His will.” He began to ask what God’s will was for his life.

He talked over his case with at least two ministers, wishing to give his whole soul to God, and to be a learning, practicing part of the Christian community. After careful examination as to his beliefs, he was baptized, and was received into church membership of the Church of Christ in Torringford, on the ninth day of April, 1815. And he wrote, “May the Lord teach me to live in his fear, to do his will, and to live devoted to his service.”

By now he was approximately 23 years of age. And so, in 1816, when he was 24, he enrolled in the new Foreign Mission School, established by the American Board across from the Congregational Church in Cornwall, Connecticut. Someone who knew him wrote this description of him at that time. “His form, which at sixteen was awkward and unshapen, had become erect, graceful, dignified. His face had lost every mark of dullness; and was, in an unusual degree, sprightly and intelligent. His features were strongly marked. They were expressive of a sound and penetrating mind.” While he was in mission school, he had learned to speak so well that many churches would invite him to come to their pulpits, and people would listen eagerly to his words. He wrote good letters and kept a good journal. Not only was he a learner, but good lessons came from his pen.

He had been a “special student” at Yale and other places. Now he and Thomas Hopu and a few others were in this special Mission School. He studied there; he spoke in churches; he wrote letters; and he seemed to have much in his mind, “I must go back to Hawaii to teach my people in my homeland what I have learned.” He probably said to himself, “I will go to the King and ask him if I may set up schools.” He would tell his people that gods of wood are foolish and that there is a great God who has created all people and to whom all people belong. He would tell his people about the great world outside of the islands. Most of all he would help his people as he himself had been helped.

Day and night he planned to go back! His Cornwall teachers at the Mission School were glad that he planned to go back. They were eager to help him in every way possible. He and Thomas Hopu talked together of their plans. Soon they would go home, with good news to give to their people of Hawaii. It was a good plan -- a great dream. But it was not to be.

Early in 1818, he fell ill on a cold day. Thomas knew that Henry was sick. He told friends, and they took Opukahaia to the Congregational parsonage where the Rev. and Mrs. Stone lived. They called a doctor quickly; they put the sick young man to bed in the downstairs front room and covered him warmly and fixed hot broth for him to drink. The doctor examined him carefully, decided that he had typhus fever, and did all he could for him. For a time there seemed some hope that he would recover. But he got weaker and weaker. He knew then, himself, that he was going to die, and his dreams of what he could do for his people in Hawaii would not come true. “I’ve lost my time,” he said, “I’ve lost my time.”

He spoke to Hopu and other Hawaiian young men who were then at Cornwall and who came to sit at his bedside. How he wanted to see Hawaii! But he knew he would not. “God will do right,” he said. “He knows what is best.” He thanked Mrs. Stone for her good care of him. He never complained. But he got steadily weaker. Then on February 17, 1818, exactly 156 years ago today, there in Cornwall, Connecticut, the boy who had been born Opukahaia in Hawaii, and who had become Henry Obookaia to his friends in New England, breathed his last. He died after parting words to his friends in his native tongue: “Aloha oe.”

Word of his death spread quickly. Friends gathered for his funeral. The famous minister, Rev. Lyman Beecher, said: “We thought surely that it would have been he - Obookaia -- who would have redeemed Hawaii. We bury in the dust all our high-raised hopes.” They went and they laid his body to rest in the church yard at Cornwall, where people from near and far still pause to honor the life and memory of this first Hawaiian Christian, who loved his people so much. His burial was as sad as a Good Friday when we remember Jesus’ death.

But like a Good Friday, there is also an Easter. Edwin Dwight wrote up, and published, Obookaia’s Memoirs. People bought and eagerly read them. Before long, many were saying, “If Henry can not go back to Hawaii, we must go in his place.” Some volunteered to go themselves. Others who could not go volunteered to give the money necessary for sending and supporting other missionaries.

And so, in October of 1819, about a year and a half after Obookaia’s death, the first company of missionaries set sail on the brig “Thaddeus” for the long journey around Cape Horn to Hawaii. Before they went, they were commissioned in a special service at the Park Street Church of Boston in these words:

“You are to open your hearts wide and set your marks high. You are to aim at nothing short of covering those islands with fruitful fields and pleasant dwellings, and schools and churches. -- obtain an adequate knowledge of the language of the people; to make them acquainted with letters; to give them the Bible, with skill to read it --- to inculcate the duties of justice, truth, kindness. --- Do all in your power to make men of every class wise, good, and happy.”

And so, with that commission, the first company set out -- 2 ministers, 2 teachers, 1 printer, 1 doctor, 1 farmer, each with his wife (and there were 5 children, too) plus 4 Hawaiian youths (Thomas Hopu was one of them.) Other companies came later. In a remarkably short time, Christian congregations sprang up in the Islands. Hawaiian leaders were trained; some even went to other foreign fields themselves.

A whole new era had dawned for Hawaii nei. The children of many races now living in Hawaii have good reason to praise God for the gospel; to listen for the voice of the spirit; and to bless the name of the young man whose eagerness for learning started it all ---- Henry Obookaia, or just Opukahaia.

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Delivered at Waioli Hui’ia Church, February 17, 1974.