Recently, I returned to Kaluaʻaha Church on Molokaʻi to honor the life of my late uncle, Daniel Iaea. As I stood in the place where generations of my ʻohana have worshipped, I felt something I can only describe as trans- cendent.
My great-great-grandfather, Rev. Isaac Daniel Iaea, and my great-grandparents are buried there. As I stood amongst them and sang my grandma Mona’s two favorite hymns – Ua Mau and ʻEkolu Mea Nui – it brought me back to my childhood when I would sing with her, and it filled me with the spirit of my kūpuna. The sound of the mele resonating through the breeze felt timeless, as if generations of our ʻohana were singing with me.
Kaluaʻaha Church is more than a historical site; it is my kūpuna and part of my mana. Established in the 1800s, it has weathered centuries of change. And although in desperate need of repairs, it still holds a powerful spiritual current that grounds those of us who are fortunate enough to call it our family church.
In that moving moment during my uncle’s funeral, I was reminded of how deeply our people’s spirituality is rooted in place, in community, and in song. It reaffirmed for me how vital it is that we, as Native Hawaiians, protect the sacred and ensure that our next generations can still access these moments of connection.
Sadly, we are witnessing a time when many of our sacred spaces and spiritual practices are being neglected – or worse, erased. As the physical remnants of our faith traditions disappear, so, too, does the connection to our spiritual identity. Kumu Kai Markell called it the biggest loss to Native Hawaiians: the loss of our spirituality.
For Native Hawaiians, spirituality is not separate from health, from ʻāina, or from identity – it is the foundation that sustains us. It’s what carried our ancestors across the Pacific, what built strong, intergenerational communities, and what continues to heal us today.
At the Office of Hawaiian Affairs (OHA), we carry this forward through our Mana i Mauli Ola Strategic Plan, which recognizes that Native Hawaiians thrive when we are grounded in our language, culture, and spirituality.
We support programs that perpetuate ʻike Hawaiʻi, from investing in Hawaiian language education and cultural healing practices, to funding ʻohana, and community-led initiatives that connect people back to sacred places and traditional knowledge. When our keiki can grow up speaking the language of our kūpuna, when ʻohana can heal through hoʻoponopono, when communities can gather to mālama ʻāina, we see the outcomes of this work come to life.
That’s why I take my kuleana at OHA seriously. I am committed to uplifting efforts that restore spiritual balance in our lāhui. Whether that’s supporting church restorations, protecting heiau, increasing keiki programs, or investing in mental and cultural wellness for our Indigenous people, I believe OHA has a critical role to play. Our people deserve more than policy and funding – we deserve pathways back to our roots, our sources of strength and our spirituality.
Going home to Kaluaʻaha reminded me why I do this work. It reminded me that even in our grief, there is great mana. And that our stories, our songs, and our sacred places must never be forgotten. Let us continue to lead with faith, hope, and love: ʻEkolu Mea Nui.
