DI WOODS Military chaplain

Of course Di Woods has a story about a vision. What else should you expect from someone ordained in the Anglican Church? She is standing in the doorway of a large Gothic-style stone church, able to look out at people in the town square just beyond the threshold. ‘‘I think sometimes I have been placed in the church, and sometimes pushed into the square,’’ she says.

It is an apt summation of her life working between churches and the New Zealand Defence Force.

May marked the end of her latest stint as a chaplain in the Defence Force, which started with the air force in Whenuapai, northwest Auckland, in 2000 and involved a stint in army green before ultimately becoming principal chaplain for the air force.

She dipped in and out of the military during that time and is doing so again, with a new role as dean of Waiapu Anglican Cathedral in Napier drawing her back to a region she fell in love with when she left the United Kingdom aged 18. What was supposed to be a gap year continues to stretch out, but not exactly as she intended.

She trod off to the local Defence Force recruitment office in 1990 with the intention of becoming a pilot. Her A-levels in mathematics were as good a business card as she needed to get through to the wings course, which she and most other recruits failed.

‘‘Lots of the air force set out to be pilots and are then recruited for other roles,’’ she says. That for her was supply and logistics, which ‘‘was fun, but not really what spun my wheels’’.

Her pivot to church work began when she was asked to use her Christian knowledge to lead a group at Whenuapai. It was self-doubt – ‘‘I thought, ‘how could I lead a group?’ ’’ – which put her on a path to studying scripture and theology before being ordained.

She spent much of the 1990s working in the church, which included being as good as in charge on the night Tauranga’s historic Holy Trinity church was destroyed by arson in 1999.

‘‘Everyone else on staff was away on training in the South Island. It was one of those baptisms by fire, no pun intended.’’

Her time working in churches got her thinking about her stint in the air force. ‘‘I believe there is purpose to life. It ended up I went back into the air force as a chaplain to explore those questions. I was an officer, so I already fitted in. I was also an Anglican priest. ‘‘Fit those together and you get a chaplain.’’ Chaplaincy is not just about wearing a collar, going to a chapel on a military base and saying some prayers. For starters, they all have to do basic training. Then there is the uniform – all that ironing – and marching.

While doing those basics is about being ready for deployment overseas, Woods says it serves another purpose. ‘‘It is the DNA of the Defence Force you absorb by being on those training courses.

‘‘It helps to give us respect, so if someone talks to me about failing a course I can say I have an understanding of how that feels.’’

It also shows how unique military chaplaincy is.

‘‘You are not going to find a hospital chaplain wanting to hop into bed in the wards, or a prison one staying on the other side of the wire overnight and having free food and lodging,’’ Woods says.

‘‘That’s the challenge, but also the reward when you know you are able to become bilingual – the language of the organisation as well as the language of the faith.’’

The average new chaplain has at least five years’ experience in a church, similar to what a dentist or specialist trades person would have joining the Defence Force. ‘‘You are expected to come booted and spurred.’’

That is what made Woods a good get, given she passed officer training before heading to Bible college. ‘‘I came with an insurance policy. They knew I could do it.’’

For Woods, chaplaincy is mostly about being available for people needing guidance, be they new recruits, senior officials or families linked to Defence staff. That could involve wandering through air force hangars, going on an exercise in Waiouru with soldiers or jumping on a navy ship. ‘‘We like to loiter with intent.’’

As the lead air force chaplain based in Defence Force headquarters in Wellington, Woods would go for a stroll through the office. ‘‘As I walk along, someone will catch my eye. You can tell they are trying to catch your eye.’’

A conversation with someone often involves being a sounding board or a safety release valve, listening and reflecting back how people feel.

‘‘Sometimes people don’t really realise how much they have told you. Then you say what they’ve said and they stare and say: ‘maybe you’re right’.

‘‘Most of us can solve our problems. We just need time and space.’’

It is not especially religious work, but

‘‘There are situations where a human being is not acting as a human being. In those situations [it is about] preventing them doing harm.’’

certainly spiritual, Woods says. That could clash with the sometimes-violent nature of military work, but Woods points out the military readily incorporates spiritual concepts.

‘‘Battle breathing, how to slow yourself down – that’s what spiritual people for hundreds of years have called meditation.

‘‘Being comfortable with yourself, knowing what it is to be still, to be able to focus on something – the other.’’

Woods does not describe herself as religious either, instead embracing the te ao Māori concept of wairua. ‘‘Wairua is the essence of who we are. It’s where my values come from. Being able to bring people to that place of stillness. To be able to believe, maybe, I’m here for a purpose.’’

The tension between faith and being in the military and the idea of killing other people is not lost on Woods, and was something she grappled with when she signed up for pilot training. ‘‘Would I or wouldn’t I follow an order to go kill people?’’

Ultimately, it is a question of justice, preventing evil and the ethics of taking a life to prevent the loss of many, she says. ‘‘There are situations where a human being is not acting as a human being. In those situations [it is about] preventing them doing harm.

‘‘Most of us are happy for others to do that. Some people are up for that and some people aren’t.’’

Reintegrating people who undertake that work is important, as simply trying to leave a piece of yourself where the work took place is not sustainable, she says. Some deal with it through exercise, or needing sleeping pills for a couple of weeks, or just talking.

That explains why chaplaincy throughout Woods’ time in Defence has been recognised as a health service. ‘‘We are the wairua tapu. It’s a reminder to the people that take care of physical health that there is more to it than that.

‘‘It helps people understand why [chaplaincy] might be important.’’

Militaries around the world are also changing chaplaincy, integrating religions aside from Christianity, and Woods is a big fan of this.

She says going between church roles and the Defence Force is a big positive, as spending life in either comes with negatives.

People who solely work in churches end up knowing the language of ‘‘Christianese’’, which Woods hopes she avoids. ‘‘What I hope I will take with me [to Napier] is that time working in a secular environment. I speak the language that people on the street might speak.’’

Some people fear the church as an institution will eventually die off, but Woods does not believe that is God’s intention.

‘‘The role of the cathedral is to build a bridge within a city and the community.’’

That takes her back to her vision, standing in that doorway looking out at the town square. ‘‘I want to be there to open those doors wider.’’