Dear Editor,

Thank you for the opportunity to respond to the heartfelt letter “Holding space for each other,” penned by an anonymous writer identifying as a devoted member of the EFKS. I do not write to oppose, but to uphold the dignity of both sides of this important conversation. As with every story, there are always two sides to the coin. Only by acknowledging both can we begin to uncover where truth gently rests, not in conflict, but in understanding. This morning, I read the response with care. I now write not from a place of defence, but with the sacred intention to preserve the vā between us that has shaped our Samoan way of relating, respecting, and reasoning since our earliest days.

I am grateful that my previous letter was read with humility. Let me clarify once again: my words were written with deep love for the EFKS. This love is not abstract, it is lived. It comes from a place of service and experience: I am a youth who was raised in the church, with my own matafale, actively participating in the Aufaipese, Mafutaga a Tina, Autalavou, and Aoga  Aso Sa. I have lived the nafa, the responsibility, of serving the church despite its challenges, because I believe in its beauty, history, and the sacred culture interwoven in its foundation.

We may not be adversaries in this dialogue, but I believe the intensity of our exchange reveals the value we both place on the church. Without culture and sacred traditions, our acts of alofa would lose their depth and purpose. These values are what breathe life into our service.

You raised concerns about the systems within the EFKS, systems which, with respect, may not yet be fully understood from your current standpoint. I acknowledge these processes, Filifiliga, Tofiga, and ultimately the Fonotele as imperfect, yes, but deeply meaningful. This is a structure built not to exclude, but to call upon those who carry a matafale, because in our Church, service is the foundation of voice. One cannot expect to influence a system to which they have not contributed (tulou), but it is not enough to speak from behind the service of our parents. We must walk that path ourselves, with humility and commitment, to truly earn both the right and the wisdom to be heard.

Witnessing is not the same as experiencing. To witness may stir opinions; to experience creates understanding. I urge you, take time this year to walk the path of service so that you may feel for yourself the weight, the joy, and the sacred purpose of the tautua.

My sibling in Christ, “Na o se tata logo a Masefau, ma o se tuualalo a si o’u faatauvaa ae le aoaia e Laupua Tamafaiga. E le aoaia foi e le matapia le manaia.” A gentle call, a humble plea, not a rebuke, nor envy.

Indeed, love invites honesty. But love expressed through action welcomes transformation. That is the kind of love we must carry for our church.

Let us remember, EFKS is not a space where voices are silenced. As I mentioned in my previous letter, which I kindly suggest be re-read, there are pathways to be heard. The system is not built for oppression, but participation. If your concerns arise from your specific aulotu, I encourage you to direct your questions to your Pulega or Matagaluega. The entire EFKS cannot answer what is best known by your local congregation.

Your reflections are appreciated. But I ask in return, are you aware of the foundational system the Church is built on? My perspective comes from within, formed not around the edges, but from the centre of lived experience.  

Let us not confuse silence with consent, yes, but neither should we confuse observation with understanding. To learn is to experience. To experience is to grow. And from growth comes true knowledge.

This is not a call for drama or division. This is not about ego, but enlightenment. I am not here to win, but to walk beside you in reflection. I do not seek followers as I seek understanding, because I believe in my Church, its structure, and its leadership. Our time to lead will come.  But for now, we must learn, listen, and serve.

I hold this vā sacred between us, and I carry no anger, only a quiet hope. I hope that one day, we might sit together, perhaps over a simple cup of coffee, not to debate, but to truly listen. To share stories, heart to heart. Because I have walked the very path you speak of, I too once questioned, once voiced my complaints. Until one day, I was called forward, placed in the space of leadership, to carry the burden of a matafale myself. Only then did I begin to understand the hardship, yes, but also the deep blessings that followed. Blessings that have shaped not just my service to the Church, but my career and my journey in my postgraduate studies. It is not an easy road, but it is sacred. And in that sacredness, I found purpose.

Thank you again to the Editorial Board for holding space for these important conversations.

With respect,

The Covenant Keeper