On Assimilation, Adaptation, and Adoption

I've been comparing assimilation as it occurred in reference to Native American people with the concepts of adoption and adaptation. Assimilation is, in itself, a neutral word that doesn't necessarily connote a forced change in the adaptation of the minority to the lifestyle of the dominant culture. We, of course, experienced a forced change due to an imperative to maximize financial return in any way necessary that seemed to take root not too many years after the country was officially formed. In the Standing Bear biography "I Am a Man", Joe Starita begins his description of the downward evolution of American Indian policy with the change of heart that Thomas Jefferson underwent in the process of growing more enamored with his picture of turning the huge land expanse into a productive agrarian gridwork of privately owned land tracts.

There were a variety of opinions being offered that influenced this process. I recently heard commentary on the well-placed concerns of the Pilgrims over the fact that they were of necessity sharing the Mayflower with entrepreneurial folks who had less concern for obedience to God than for that profit maximization. We need to be careful when discussing a return to the roots of America to specify which roots we're discussing. Even in parts of the faith community, there were such glaring departures from scriptural teachings as the Doctrine of Discovery in place in both Catholic and Protestant monarchies since it was issued in a papal encyclical in the 15th century. This licensed "Christian" invasion forces to annihilate indigenous people that were contacted if they were less than cooperative with spiritual and cultural assimilation. The unsupportable notion that the church had permanently replaced Israel in the divine favor and, subsequently, had carte blanche to destroy all "Canaanites" (i. e., different and not overtly Christian peoples) encountered similar to that recorded in the account of the original occupation of their homeland due to pronounced corruption of the existing cultures was part of this concept.

I seem to remember something in the Seven Fires Prophecies of the Ojibway that discussed the fact that there were two possible outcomes from the integration of the immigrants said to be coming: they could either blend with the Native culture and become part of a respectful exchange ideas to the mutual benefit of both, creating a nearly utopian society, or they could cop an attitude and proceed to wreak havoc on the indigenous people by virtue of superior numbers and technology. Reuben Snake often drew comparisons between the "cyclic" though of the indigenous people and the "linear" thought of the Europeans. It's possible to imagine how the respect for the balanced cyclic processes of both nature and human interaction could have mitigated the destructive effects of unchecked economic development on both the land and the "less fortunate", and the European love of research, development and improvement could have broadened the capabilities of the indigenous cultures. The various tribes already exchanged cultural and technical knowledge among themselves; new ideas weren't rejected out-of-hand. It's interesting that melding the two images creates the picture of a wheeled vehicle rather than a stationary wheel or a deconstrutionist projectile of progress that disassembles bodies and objects in its path. Balanced and orderly progress that doesn't create environmental devastation, a large disparities in means and class conflict is conceivable in the intermingling of the two extremes. (These are, of course, generalizations. There were individuals in both groups that defied the philosophy of their own culture in favor of what they felt to be either higher spiritual truth or lower self-indulgence.)

If we move from public policy as developed by the church during a period where the imperative in the development of doctrine was more economic and political than governed by adherence to the teachings of Jesus, we encounter the idea of adoption. Relationships that originated from pacts or covenants rather than blood ties were demonstrated in Hebrew culture in the Old Testament, and discussed by the Apostle Paul in several places in the New Testament as an illustration of reconciliation to God through Christ. This was also an important theme among the Native people. Relationships held a very important position in society, and were sometimes based on demonstrations of compelling loyalty and friendship between individuals who had previously had been strangers. We might call this bond "love" or "mutual respect" in all cases. This is the essential difference between assimilation as experienced in the history of American Indian and African slavery policy, and the mutually advantageous process of covenanting together with integrity for mutual benefit that takes place in adoption and other alliances between individuals and people groups.

Song for Little Mother

Mama-zhiNga!

When I came to help,
You had eyes to see
Past skin to heart.
You called me, "Niece".
Every day I am grateful.

You told me what your father said
As he was passing to Spirit World--
"Always help your people,"
He told you.
Now, you join him.

Watch from the top of Star Bridge,
Make sure that I
Always help the people.
It shows little respect
To learn but not to follow.

When you see WakoNdi-zhiNgi,
Ask Him to give us eyes to see
Past skin to heart
So we have a chance for peace.
Every day I will be grateful.







In tribute to Viola "Tina" Walker Promes, a member of the Omaha Nation who passed into the presence of Jesus on March 27, 2010, from her adopted niece.

Heart

Creator, hear my voice!

I see the pictures you paint and the songs that you sing all around me, but I cannot feel the love from you that I know is in them.

It's as though someone has taken the heart out of me. Remember its shape, and the rhythm of its drumming and build it again in me.

Then, Wacondi-zhingi, you can dance for joy as I love you from a child's heart that is soft and new~another gift from your Father.

*********************************************************************

(from Wikipedia): "Dissociation is an unexpected partial or complete disruption of the normal integration of a person’s conscious or psychological functioning . Dissociation is a mental process that severs a connection to a person's thoughts, memories, feelings, actions, or sense of identity. Dissociation can be a response to trauma, and perhaps allows the mind to distance itself from experiences that are too much for the psyche to process at that time."


"In that same hour He rejoiced and gloried in the Holy Spirit and said, I thank You, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that You have concealed these things [relating to salvation] from the wise and understanding and learned, and revealed them to babes (the childish, unskilled, and untaught). Yes, Father, for such was Your gracious will and choice and good pleasure." (Luke 10:21 AMP)

For Christmas 2009

Remembering....
The steps near the end of the porch:
A refuge from being alone and misunderstood,
A place to watch heaven filling earth
In the art and harmony of life everywhere.

Reaching....
From a cave at the edge of society,
God emptying Himself, alone and misunderstood.
In the desperation to recapture perfect love,
Priming the flow of life from heaven to earth.

Resurrecting....


Merry Christmas!

The Becoming

I breathe in The Becoming
Who breathed into me
In the beginning, changing
A corner of eternity.

I glimpse The Becoming
As through a glass darkly.
The color is still true
And bright enough to see.

I hear The Becoming
In a small voice that I perceive
Sending me toward daring
With assurance I believe....

He is imaging again
The dream that He did not duplicate,
The secret that He reserved
To bring to me and intimate.

In the night,
He is flame again,
Refusing to let die
What He began.

A road in a dream
Straightens along the way
Toward the familiar sound of music
In a faintly stirring day.

In the cold,
A tree the color of fire
Blanketed seed on hard ground
So the new stand will spring to life.

Death's color was bold
But still served the cause
Of regenereation; the snow
Wept brith waters from its thaw.

In this awakening,
Green comes softly through intimidation
Of stony earth; wings of butterflies unfold like hopes
Stirring from the still chrysalis of imagination.

Wrapped in all of this reminder
Against the threat of futility,
I defy the doom of tormentors
To see, hear, and believe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This piece started with the image of the chrysalis in Stanza 9. I wrote it with a certain human condition in mind: opposition so fierce and persistent that leads to a crossroad of trying to go on despite the weariness, or giving up and going down in despair. Nature itself teaches us that, on this earth, the trappings of death can actually be part of the mechanism that brings new life, and shouldn't cause us to cast aside all hope that God can indeed do a new thing. Here, He's represented as The Becoming, on the presumption that the information that I received on The Becoming One being a more accurate translation of I AM THAT I AM is correct. The imperative of life and creation still prevails in the end.

I think it's ironic that the inspiration first came in autumn (I encountered the tree casting maroon leaves in the cold wind not long after the first image developed), and it finally all came together and insisted on being written right before spring. Although I've got some discomfort with the cadence of the poem, I think the message is important enough to pass on, however imperfectly it may be packaged.

"I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds." John 12:24

The Unfolding

Like any parent of more than one child, the Father sees in each of us some unique piece of Himself, a rib that still fits into His chest. We are irreplacably connected. Since He sees the end from the beginning, He's able to trace the way that the rose will open, even when it's tightly clenched with full light not yet at its center. The finished picture remains in His mind, and the process of unfolding is expected and doesn't drive Him away. He is light without darkness, and has also endowed us with the instinct to progress toward day fully realized.'

“Listen to advice and accept instruction, and in the end you will be wise. Many are the plans in a man's heart, but it is the LORD's purpose that prevails.”- Proverbs 19:20-21

A Day at the Rez--December 30, 2008

Brandon and I had a landmark day going to the Omaha and Winnebago reservations as part of his Christmas gift. He experienced as sense of connection, since he actually has a bit of Native ancestry (he's 1/16th Cherokee), and got to see old friends and meet new ones in the process of doing some Mi'Jhu'Wi Ministries administration.

The trip actually started for me with some passages from Is. 63 that our pastor read at church. You know you're in the right place when the Holy Spirit talks to you through the sermon BEFORE you tell your pastor what you're doing. Several passages stood out to me as concerning the trip and the ministry on the res, particularly v. 17b:
"....Return for the sake of your servants,
the tribes that are your inheritance."
The Omaha Nation adopted Christianity about 150 years ago or so according to what I've been reading, and you still find quite a few that equate Jesus with Waconda/Creator on both reservations. I have a feeling that He's aware of the challenges they're facing and wanting to intervene, with our cooperation.

We asked several people to pray for us as we went up, since the car has been needing some attention, it's winter, it was really windy, and, welI....I seriously hoped not to offend or concern anyone by our presence. We hooked up with Karen at her mother's house when we reached Walthill, so that wasn't an issue. I feel pretty loved up there, actually, among the people that I've met so far, but we take care to be respectful and go about things correctly. We specifically called our friends, Lee and Andy, for prayer as we pulled out of town only 15 minutes after our goal departure time despite having to reload all of the stuff that we'd collected for a mom that had been called to our attention by her manager at the hospital in Winnebago. It was a good thing, too, since there was some frost on the road. His Social Security attorney called about a mile before the exit, and I handed him the phone. She was reassuring him that she'd secure his arrearage payment (HELLO, YWAM MINISTRY TRAINING AFTER JOB CORPS!) as I got onto the ramp and swerved toward the 15' dropoff. We swerved the other direction, in front of the car that had pulled off to let us have the dance floor, and finally got corrected and onto the highway. I'd unloaded part of the Pepsi I'd been drinking for energy into my lap during this process, which led to our adventure in Fremont.

We got to Fremont, and stopped to get some dish soap for the mother who was getting eight boxes of dishes (which ended up under the seat and hasn't gotten to her yet), and generally regroup. I noticed that the Pepsi was more noticeable when I walked around in the January wind outside of McDonald's. All of a sudden, I receivedeth a word of wisdom from the Holy Spirit, I think--I took my inconvenience to the ladies' room and resolved it with five or six cycles of the hand dryer! I call it a word of wisdom, since you don't find any guidance in Acts in the missionary journeys of Paul concerning a stop at the Damascus McDonald's to dry the Pepsi out of his prayer shawl with the air dryer in the men's room.

We checked in with Karen (who was charged up to get us there, and was making me feel loved again), and took off. About halfway between Fremont and Walthill, we got to be grateful for our prayer cover again as we saw a van on its top down another 15' embankment. I was granted some clear-headed wisdom and discretion on our speed, and we avoided that fate.

Brandon got some revelation of humility and attitude correction an hour or so later as we crossed the southern border of the res and came into those gorgeous hills. There is a sweet, peaceful presence of God there. I've felt as though I followed Him there to accomplish some good things, based on some mental pictures I've run across during prayer times. We pulled into Walthill, and just spent some time catching up with John and Karen about the ministry and our lives in general since they moved up there to take care of her mother. Holidays are about family, and I consider our friends to be family in the ways that count.

We took some of the boxes out of my car to get Karen to fit and put them into her Rover. From there, we headed up to the AllNative store in Winnebago to get Brandon's Christmas hat. It looked like Stevie Ray Vaughn's (minus the band, which he'll search for), and the money went into the Winnebago tribal coffers. We confined our shopping to just that store, and left to one a few doors down for another day. It's a little bit like going through an art gallery to go in there, since all of the product is produced by Native artisans. We did go around the circle of wooden statues depicting members of the twelve clans of the Winnebago that's in front of that store, which is a majestic sight. While we were shopping, I called Audrey at the hospital to see if we could visit with her that afternoon which she was more than happy to do.

Karen had wanted to show us some of the art in the hospital, so we sort of wandered slowly toward the reception desk. As with the Indian Center in Lincoln, there is a rounded opening that extends to the roof that's pretty breathtaking. Not only did Audrey receive us, but she introduced us to the mom she'd asked us to help, who'd gotten the two little ones recovered enough from surgery to return to work. She also brought out a few other ladies, and we had quite a meeting there in the hall for about a half-hour or so. We'll be working with them to help some of the families that come through the system there (I just sent out the first list). I love to instantly connect with people in the way that we did! She then took us upstairs to see the Spiritual Room. Karen mentioned that she'd have to ask the relatives for funeral guidance when Mom's time came, and then remembered later in the day that she'd actually been talking to an in-law! We spent awhile longer just looking at the art, including a painting called "Friends" that I loved, because it concerned Natives and whites working together.

From there, we went to Macy, which is the Omaha tribal headquarters. The tribal office building is distinctive in that it has some extra sides (I'm trying to recall for sure if it's seven). We went inside to see the pillars representing the seven clans of the Omaha, and take a quick look around to see if we could locate some people that we knew with a few minutes on their hands. That didn't happen, so we headed back to Walthill to do some delivering.

The first step was to do some locating. We had an address and now a set of directions, but it took us awhile to put it together. We got to get better acquainted with the town that way, at least. We finally got there and unloaded what we had in the car, and went back for the rest. I'll send a quick thank you here to everyone who sent something along with me or through the mail, with official thank you letters to follow.

On that note, we headed home. The fatigue disorder that I've been battling for a few years was asserting itself by then. We had another windy drive home with no difficulties that we took at our own pace so that we could talk and compare notes. I think we came over the hill to a panorama of the lights of Lincoln just as the sun had gone down, which is a dramatic change after being in a largely pastoral environment. Many things are different between those two places, but the same basic things are true and important in both.