Part 2 - The Gentle Giant of Pasifika: General Councillor Br John Hazelman on a Life Shaped by Mothers, Inspired by Marcellin, and Called to Lead
- maristbrothers
- Oct 5
- 12 min read
Updated: 3 days ago
Excerpts from Interview with Br John Hazelman, General Councillor, Marist Institute, Part 2. Read Part 1 here.
How did your journey then lead you to become the leader of the District of the Pacific?
After my years in formation, I returned to Samoa as a school principal from 2014 - 2016. Not long after, I was asked to serve again at MAPAC as its leader, and then the Brothers discerned that I should become District Leader of the Pacific. At first, I hesitated - I had invested so much into formation and community-building. But when I realised my Brothers truly needed me, I accepted. It also felt significant that, for the first time, an Islander was asked to lead the District, which then covered Aotearoa - New Zealand, Fiji, Samoa and Kiribati.
In 2019, just as I began my role as District Leader based in Auckland, COVID-19 hit within weeks. That was my initiation into leadership. It was a tough beginning, especially as I had never served on council before and moved straight into leading a District. I made mistakes, of course, but I was supported by excellent people, including my deputy, Br Peter Horide, and others who gave me confidence. Also, Br David McDonald was a great mentor to me, I learnt a lot from him during my time there.
It was also a very different world from my previous work with mostly young Brothers - in New Zealand I met older Brothers, who were predominantly white, and had very different expectations.
"But when I realised my Brothers truly needed me, I accepted. It also felt significant that, for the first time, an Islander was asked to lead the District, which covered New Zealand, Fiji, Samoa and Kiribati."
At times I struggled to adapt. My personality leans towards being a peacemaker, while the context there often demanded quick and firm decisions. That was a learning curve. But I also met many extraordinary lay people - professionals whose dedication to Marist mission impressed me deeply and taught me a great deal.
By the time I finished my term, I could honestly say I was grateful for the experience. I told the Brothers, “Thank you for allowing me to lead.” Leadership in New Zealand helped me face my own weaknesses, discover my strengths, and prepare me for the wider responsibilities I carry today.
Was this when you were invited onto the newly formed Star of the Sea Provincial Council?
Yes. When I was asked to join the Council in 2022, I felt ready. The years in New Zealand had prepared me for seeing the bigger picture. I knew the realities of the Pacific, the challenges of sustainability, and I had learned from how things operated in New Zealand, Australia, and Asia. I also wanted to return my focus to the Pacific, because I had been away so long.
The first thing I did in this new role was to visit Melanesia. It was my way of saying: “I want to know you, understand you, and walk with you.” I quickly learned just how isolated, small, and at times inexperienced our communities there can be. It was a huge challenge. But I realised my approach had to be as a Pacific Islander - patient, trusting that growth takes time. That has become one of my great lessons in leadership - patience.
Could you elaborate on what you mean by patience? How has that shaped the way you lead?
When I say patience, I mean allowing people the space to find their own rhythm, to listen to others, and to grow at their own pace. It’s something I still work on in myself, but I’ve learned how important it is in leadership. Patience has made me more sensitive, more open to the opinions of others.
Part of my role has been to encourage and empower local leaders - particularly in Melanesia and across the Pacific. That hasn’t always been easy. Sometimes people expect one leader to do everything, and the temptation is to just take the responsibility yourself. But I’ve learned that if you want sustainable leadership, you have to delegate and create space for others to lead.
"When I say patience, I mean allowing people the space to find their own rhythm, to listen to others, and to grow at their own pace."
In places like Samoa and Fiji, we have a long history of developing our own leadership and identity. But in Melanesia, it has taken longer for that development to strengthen. It was challenging - especially during COVID-19 when support was harder to provide - but it reinforced for me that leadership is a gradual process. You trust the evolution, and even when things are slow or frustrating, you hold on to the belief that it will bear fruit in time.
That must be difficult, bringing together so many different national identities under one province.
Yes, it was a real challenge. I represented six countries – Fiji, Samoa, Kiribati, Vanuatu, Solomon Islands, and Papua New Guinea (and Autonomous Region of Bougainville) - each with its own history and strong sense of identity. Even though our numbers are small, these are people with feelings, traditions, and stories that matter. At times, some have felt that forming a larger province meant losing their identity or freedom. So, part of my responsibility was to make sure no one feels forgotten - that every country and community knows their voice is part of the bigger picture.
"You trust the evolution, and even when things are slow or frustrating, you hold on to the belief that it will bear fruit in time."
I believe in evolution - things take time, and you have to trust the process. Our work is slow but steady, and I believe in listening and helping people bring their local gifts to the wider mission. I have been blessed to learn from so many leaders across the council – Br Peter Carroll, Br Darren Burge, Br Graham Neist, Br Greg McDonald, and others. They each bring wisdom that has shaped my leadership.
But at the heart of it, my own focus has always been on formation. That’s where I began, and it’s still where I feel I can contribute most meaningfully. Alongside leaders like Brothers Brian Davis and Peter Rodney, we have been working on formation teams not only in our province but also in connection with Asia. Formation has always been close to my heart - it is where you mentor people, strengthen their faith, and prepare them to lead.
Looking at the present, what do you see as the biggest challenges facing the Marist mission in the Pacific?
Numbers, first of all. We are few. And yet our ministries - especially schools - are demanding and sometimes overwhelming. One of our biggest responsibilities is to ensure the Marist charism is kept alive in our schools, even when there are fewer Brothers. That means developing lay leaders and sharing our charism with them so that the mission continues after us.
At the same time, we must live as authentic communities - witnessing to the spirit of brotherhood not only in words but in the way we live together. We have faced challenges in our communities - issues like alcohol, inappropriate relationships, or conflicts - that can damage our witness. So, strengthening community life is a key concern.
Sustainability is another challenge. For now, the Province is supporting the Pacific, but that cannot go on forever. We need to find new ways of sustaining our mission.
"One of our biggest responsibilities is to ensure the Marist charism is kept alive in our schools, even when there are fewer Brothers. That means developing lay leaders and sharing our charism with them so that the mission continues after us."
Education remains vital, especially in places like Bougainville where it is still an urgent need. But in other areas our schools are now well established, which frees us to explore new ministries - social work, ecology, non-formal education, outreach to the margins. I believe the next wave of ministries in the Pacific will go beyond traditional schools into areas that spark new life and respond to emerging needs.
Vocations are another challenge. Why do you think fewer young men are joining the Brothers today?
I believe the first witness to vocation is ourselves - how we live as Brothers. People can see very quickly whether we are authentic, joyful, and whether what we offer is meaningful. So we must be real witnesses of brotherhood.
But there are other pressures in the Pacific context. The priesthood is still widely seen as the “main” vocation of a man, tied deeply into cultural views of leadership - the matai in Samoa, the turaga in Fiji, or the village chief. Families often push young men in that direction, seeing priests as leaders in the community with authority and prestige.
Then there are simply more options today. Many young men leave to work overseas as seasonal workers, something that wasn’t possible decades ago. Economic pressures are strong, and religious life may not seem as attractive when compared to opportunities to support one’s family financially.
"Also, numbers alone are not enough - it must be about quality and depth."
Finally, cultural expectations can sometimes weigh heavily. In Pacific culture, there is a strong emphasis on status, possessions, and meeting family obligations. If Brothers are not careful, they too can fall into the trap of entitlement or “big man mentality.” Holding to the true spirit of humility and service is not always easy in that environment.
Also, numbers alone are not enough - it must be about quality and depth. One worry is that sometimes, because we are desperate for numbers, we focus less on careful discernment and formation. The fact that quite a few Brothers have left the Brotherhood in the Pacific in recent years shows the challenge of preparing men well for this vocation.
Formation has to help young Brothers integrate faith and culture in a way that is authentic - not just following cultural habits because that is what men are expected to do, but really reflecting on how those practices align with our values as Brothers. That is the deeper challenge for vocations in the Pacific today: forming men who can resist pressure, live joyfully, and be authentic witnesses of Marist life.
You have been a Marist Brother for more than 30 years now. Looking back, what would you say was your biggest challenge?
I professed my first vows in November 1992, so this marks 34 years as a Brother. It’s been a long journey with many blessings, but also challenges.
In the early years, the biggest challenge was the personal side of religious life - coming to terms with not having a partner. That sense of celibacy was real. But in time, I came to understand it as part of the freedom my vocation offers: freedom in relationships, freedom to listen and to be attentive, freedom to share what I have.
Obedience was less difficult for me, probably because of my upbringing. My family life already instilled generosity and a sense of service, so I never saw obedience as a restriction but as a way of offering my life to others. Poverty, too, I came to understand less as “going without” and more as being grateful for simplicity and for what we already have.
"That sense of celibacy was real. But in time, I came to understand it as part of the freedom my vocation offers: freedom in relationships, freedom to listen and to be attentive, freedom to share what I have."
Other challenges included learning that life in community means you can’t always do what you want. You live for others, not just for yourself. At times it has also been frustrating when Brothers didn’t seem to live up to the ideals we profess - when their commitments to religious life or ministry fell short. And of course, one of the greatest challenges for me personally was confronting the painful reality of abuse in the Church.
Yes, you were also involved in assisting the Royal commission in New Zealand. How did that experience impact you?
It was very tough. I walked into it almost immediately after arriving in New Zealand as the Leader. I had little preparation, and suddenly I was face-to-face with survivors of abuse.
As the Leader I had to reach out to some of the survivors, arrange meetings, and try to listen. That was confronting, especially when the Royal Commission hearings began, and several survivors of historic abuse by Marist Brothers were among the first to testify.
Some advised me not to attend, but I felt I had to go. My purpose was simply to listen. I represented the Brothers, and since harm had been done in the past, the least I could do was be present and hear the voices of those who were hurt. It was not easy. To sit in that crowd, to hear my own name read out, and to feel the shame - it was painful. But I knew it was important.
"To sit in that crowd, to hear my own name read out, and to feel the shame - it was painful. But I knew it was important."
I remember later being asked directly what I felt when I saw the names of Brothers connected to abuse. It struck me deeply. I thought, this is the exact opposite of what we vowed to live for - the opposite of protecting and nurturing children. It shook me, but it also taught me I must be honest, even if my honesty pained some of my Brothers. I had to say what I felt for my own integrity.
Over time, I became more objective, especially through communicating with survivors. I learned that by speaking to them from my own vulnerability, I could connect with them as people, not as “cases.” One survivor eventually found healing to the point of helping others. These experiences taught me that while there is no “positive” in abuse, there can be pathways to support and solidarity for survivors, and as Brothers we have a responsibility to stand with them on that road.
As you prepare to leave the Pacific for some time, what do you hope the Marist mission here will continue to embody and achieve?
My first hope is that every Brother and every Marist community - no matter how small or remote - will feel they are part of something bigger. In the Pacific, we have small and scattered communities, and it’s easy to think, “What does Rome have to do with us? What does Australia know of our reality?” But belonging to a Province means we carry one another. It’s not just about doing our “own thing” in isolation, but realising that we are supported, strengthened, and energised by being part of a larger Marist family.
I also hope we remain faithful to those on the peripheries - the poor and the marginalised. We already see efforts, such as the Champagnat Institute in Fiji, which serves students from disadvantaged backgrounds, or schools in Kiribati and Bougainville that continue to support families in simple circumstances. Wherever we are, our schools must form not just successful students, but good people with values and compassion, and with their faith as a guide.
"Wherever we are, our schools must form not just successful students, but good people with values and compassion, and with their faith as a guide."
The future will also rely more on lay partners. Many of our schools are already run by dedicated lay leaders, and that is the direction ahead. We should not see it as a threat to our vocation, but as a gift - an evolution that strengthens our mission and extends the Marist charism in new ways.
"Belonging to a Province means we carry one another. It’s not just about doing our “own thing” in isolation, but realising that we are supported, strengthened, and energised by being part of a larger Marist family."
Finally, I believe we must have the courage to explore new ministries beyond traditional schooling. Education is still important, but in some parts of the Pacific, the need is shifting toward social work, ecology, non-formal education, and outreach to people at the margins. My hope is that, though we are few, we can embrace these new opportunities and bring life to them, especially with the help of lay partners who walk beside us.
Br John, as you step into your new role as General Councillor, what legacy do you hope to leave behind in the Pacific?
That’s a tough question! I suppose what I hope most is to be remembered as a good listener. Someone who was approachable, who valued people’s cultures, and who made others feel heard and empowered.
If I can be remembered as someone who encouraged others to step up and lead, who helped them see their own gifts and bring them to the mission, then I think I have lived my vocation well. For me, legacy is not about being remembered, but about leaving behind people who feel confident, supported, and ready to carry the Marist mission forward.
"For me, legacy is not about being remembered, but about leaving behind people who feel confident, supported, and ready to carry the Marist mission forward."
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