"THE VISION OF CHRISTMAS"

“THE VISION OF CHRISTMAS”

            Last week I concentrated on Joseph’s part of the Christmas story in the Bible.  I usually prefer to start with the women involved in the story (Mary and Elizabeth), but I felt that I had a pressing case to make to men, especially white men, using Joseph as the model for us to begin to take steps out of our toxic masculinity.  The Biblical stories seem to recognize this split and this tension over gender.  The first book of the New Testament, Matthew, tells Joseph’s part of the Christmas story in chapters 1 and 2.  The third book, Luke, tells the story from the women’s point of view, giving both Elizabeth’s and Mary’s story.  I wrote last week about Joseph using his patriarchal power to protect Mary and his adopted son, and in so doing, it may have seemed that Mary was too passive – that is not the case.

            The Christmas stories clearly give Mary the primary human agency.  The angel Gabriel comes to Mary to ask her to allow herself to be put in a precarious position by conceiving and birthing the Messiah.  Mary is already in a dangerous position as a peasant woman – female in a patriarchal society, under the thumb of the Roman empire, without access to economic support except through men.  Dr. Susan Hylen, in her pioneering work, has shown us the remarkable resiliency and agency of women in New Testament times.  Though they were “buked and scorned” - to borrow from the African-American tradition - many of these women demonstrated powerful resistance and adaptability.  Mary was one of those.  Engaged to be married, retaining her “value” as a virgin, she receives a vision from the angel – a vision that requests that she make herself even more vulnerable by agreeing to become pregnant before marriage, pregnant by someone other than her fiancé Joseph.  While some have indicated that Mary had no choice except to say “yes,” the story in Luke seems to make it clear that she could say “no.”

            She chooses to say “yes,” and her choice is the primary human agency from that point on.  As we will see next week, God is the primary agent, but from the human point of view, Mary drives the story.  She must tell Joseph, and we can imagine the fear in her heart as she tells him – will he take her to the elders for possible execution?  Will he abandon her?  Will he still marry her?   We can imagine Joseph’s response –“Oh, pregnant by the Holy Spirit?  Now that’s a new one!”  As we heard last week, Joseph will receive his own vision from God and will step out of toxic patriarchy and step into a new way of living.

            It is this new way of living that is Mary’s first lesson to us in this Christmas season.  Midway through Luke 1, she sings a powerful and astonishing song about the power of God coming over her.  Coming over her to bring her a child, but also coming over her to proclaim a new vision about who God is and who we should be.  She sings about God at the margins, about God taking down the mighty and lifting up the poor and the hungry.  Mary reminds us that this vision of Christmas is not just about Incarnation, not just about God blessing humanity with Her presence.  It also is about God coming to us in a particular way – to a woman pregnant before marriage, coming to us as a poor, dependent baby born on the streets.   Whatever we think about the way Christmas is celebrated, this vision of God at the margins is at the heart of the story.

            Mary’s story offers us many lessons, and a second one is that she emphasizes the necessity and the power of community in seeking to live out and witness to the new vision of Christmas, of God at the margins.  Before she takes her life in her hands and goes to talk with Joseph, she first goes to her cousin Elizabeth to share in solidarity and community with her sister.  She has heard from Gabriel that Elizabeth is also pregnant in a miraculous fashion, and she goes to her to draw strength from her elder and her sister.  She goes to Elizabeth to start building a new community, based on this vision of God at the margins.  No lone rangers allowed here.  Growing out of this visit and this solidarity, Mary’s spirit is strengthened to sing “My soul magnifies the Lord.”  She receives strength for the journey from community.

            As we enter this Christmas season, we don’t know what we are facing.  Assuming that Trump will not be convicted in the Senate, will he be strengthened or weakened by impeachment?  Will we hear the Nazi troopers coming closer, or will Trump be defeated in 2020?  We don’t know the answers to those questions at this point, but we do know that the same forces of racism and sexism and materialism that elected him in 2016 will remain with us after November, 2020, whoever is elected president.  It is in this kind of world that Mary had her vision and stepped forward, the kind of world in which we live.  That is the power of the Christmas story – it is always contemporary, and we are called to listen for the angels calling to us, listen for that new vision of Christmas, a vision which will scare us and trouble us, and yet a vision that will bring us life and help us to join in God’s movement at the margins.  May we find our places in this year’s live nativity scene. 

"WHITE MEN LISTENING TO JOSEPH"

“WHITE MEN LISTENING TO JOSEPH”

            Because the world seems so disastrously patriarchal, I usually don’t like to start with men in the Christmas story.  However, this year I want to start with Joseph because he has a lot to offer to men in these days (especially white men like me). I also want to start here because we are in a time in this country when white men seem determined to keep ourselves at the center of life, as witnessed in the shenanigans of Donald Trump and those who elected him and continue to support him.  Joseph offers us a way to start moving out of toxic masculinity.

            Joseph does not appear much in the Bible – his story is found mainly in Matthew 1:18-25, although Matthew’s genealogy that begins that Gospel seems determined to establish that Joseph is the (adopted) father of Jesus.  Luke’s Gospel tells us that Mary agrees to become the mother of Jesus, placing herself in danger of the death penalty because she will become pregnant by someone other than her fiancé.  The Biblical witness is that Joseph is a good liberal – he will not accept the death penalty, but he will not challenge the system either.  He decides to quietly send Mary back to her father and let her deal with her transgression.

            He receives a different vision from God, though, and he decides to challenge the system.  He decides to take Mary as his wife and adopt Jesus as his son.  In doing this, he offers three lessons to us males on how to begin to find liberation from our captivity to patriarchy.  First, he listens to voices other than his own, especially voices from the margins.  Accustomed to doing “man-splainng,” he decides to listen to Mary and hears God’s voice to him from her.  Many of us males believe that we know so much about others, especially women, and this Biblical story reminds us that we are called to close our mouths and open our ears and hearts in order to listen and to receive the stories of others.  This is the first lesson on the path towards liberation.  

            Second, Joseph not only listens to other voices – he begins to act on them too.  He decides to take a chance and move out of the center of life towards the margins.  Instead of telling Mary how terrible she is for getting pregnant by someone else, instead of beating Mary up or having her executed for her offending him, he goes to the margins of life, where Mary and other women are imperiled and dominated and put in constant danger.  Here, he hears a different voice, a voice that astonishes him – God is not at the center of life with men.  Rather, God is at the margins of life, calling all of us at the center to move towards the margins.  The Biblical story is honest here.  This movement of Joseph to the margins is costly.  He will be forced to watch the baby born on the streets, because he is homeless in Bethlehem.  His life is in danger, when he flees with his wife Mary and his adopted son Jesus, flees from the government soldiers who come to execute the boy and his family.  He and his family become illegal immigrants.  His movement to the margins imperils his status and his life, yet he finds life because of it.  Joseph’s second lesson for us is that we are called to move to the margins of life, so that we can hear a new voice and find our own authentic selves, not the toxic males that society convinces us that we must be.

            Joseph’s third lesson is that he uses his patriarchal power to protect Mary and his adopted son.  He gives them the shelter of male privilege, even when his former self would tell him that they do not deserve it.  No elders in the village come to execute Mary because Joseph gives her shelter.  A single woman traveling with a baby as an illegal immigrant faces many dangers, but Joseph mitigates some of them by giving them male protection.  By Matthew’s account, someone (maybe Joseph himself) has given them shelter in a house – it is here that the magi come to visit and acknowledge the power of this baby and this story.   Joseph learns to use his power not to attack women but rather to protect and nurture them.

            So, as we consider this Christmas story from the male point of view, let us turn towards Joseph and learn from him.  Let us swim deeply in his waters of movement and strength and power, and let us seek to follow his star.  The world would look a lot different if we did.

""A DIFFERENT VISION - ROSA PARKS DAY"

“A DIFFERENT VISION – ROSA PARKS DAY”

            The Christmas season now begins in September, as our consumer culture seeks to tweak the heartstrings earlier in order to sell more products.  Because of this development, it is easy to become cynical about Christmas and the Christmas story.  Many of us are cynical and tend to become jaded in this season – we long to find some respite from its frantic nature.  As we begin another Advent season, leading up to Christmas, let us take some time to reflect upon this ancient story, because at its best, and even at its least, the story itself offers us some opportunities to see a different vision of ourselves, of others, and of life itself.

            I am one of those who tends to be jaded about this season, but in my early years I was given a great gift regarding Christmas.  My mother loved all things Christmas, and she passed that affinity on to me.  We were poor,  abandoned by husband and father, and living with my great-great aunt, who refused to celebrate Christmas for religious reasons.  “Gran,” as I called her, was an Associate Reformed Presbyterian, a very conservative branch of the Presbyterian family.  Coming out of the Puritan tradition, she felt that the cultural trappings of Christmas were an evil that needed to be avoided – no tree, no decorations, no mirth, no presents, although a big Christmas meal was both allowed and celebrated.   When we first moved in with Gran, my mother and I shared a small bedroom with two twin beds.  Gran would not allow Mother to put up a Christmas tree in the common living area, so for several years, we had a tree in our already crowded bedroom.  My mother was a Christmas season evangelist, however, so eventually she won Gran over, and the tree moved in to the common area, along with a growing number of decorations (and most important from my child’s point of view, presents under the tree were also allowed).

            So, I am grateful to my mother for her imbibing me with the Christmas spirit.  Her enthusiasm pointed me and others to see the Christmas season as a time to look for another vision, a vision of life that is deeper and broader and more connected than the current capitalistic, money-is-god vision.  The church uses the Advent season as a time to prepare us to be able to re-focus our perceptual apparatus so that this new vision can come into view and take root.  Writers like Howard Thurman (“The Mood of Christmas”) have encouraged us to understand the Christmas story as a powerful time of re-engaging our imaginations about who we are and what life is.  The Christmas stories in Matthew, Luke, and John urge us to see where God’s preferences are and where God’s energies are.  These Biblical Christmas stories place God’s emphasis on the margins of life:  a teenage girl pregnant before marriage by someone other than her fiancé, the fiancé being forced to engage his patriarchal privilege and make a decision on it, the baby born on the streets, the holy family greeted by working class people and then exotic foreigners, then forced to flee political persecution as immigrants who illegally crossed the border with Egypt.  These stories are not about God at the center of celebrity culture – these stories are about God at the margins.  That should be the first thing that we notice, as we begin this Advent and Christmas season.  Whoever you think is marginalized – that is where God is appearing in 2019.

            Second, we should notice that a central characteristic of these Christmas stories is resistance.  God is resisting the Roman Empire and the powers that be.  The Romans are mentioned in Luke’s version but only as an aside that requires the holy family to go to Bethlehem.  Mary will resist male patriarchal power, and so will Joseph.  It is as if God is saying in these Christmas stories:  “There’s another view of life – look at it and find your way in to it.”  At best, our culture begrudgingly acknowledges the power of love in these stories, but it is the sweet, sentimental kind of love, not the institution-challenging, life-changing love found in these Biblical stories.  They emphasize that this event will challenge us to engage and confront institutions of oppression and injustice.

            I don’t know if Rosa Parks thought about these Christmas stories or not, as she decided to resist the unjust segregation laws on that bus in Montgomery years ago on December 1, 1955, but she did have resistance on her mind and heart.  She wasn’t the first to do it – Claudette Colvin and Homer Plessy and Ida Wells and Frederick Douglass and others had preceded her in challenging the separate accommodation laws.  But, her resistance caught fire, mainly because some other women like Joanne Robinson picked up her witness and resistance and helped it to spread in Montgomery and around the South.  I don’t know if Rosa Parks framed it in just this way, but it is easy in retrospect to hear the angel of the Lord telling her:  “Keep your seat, Rosa – God is with you.”  “But, I’m just one small black woman – how can this be?”  The reply: “With God, nothing is impossible.”  And, a new vision was born and seen, out of her resistance.  This is the different vision – this is the meaning of the Christmas stories.  Let us find our voice also in this crazy season – God is inviting us in. 

"THANK YOU"

“THANK YOU”

            “If the only prayer you ever say in your whole life is ‘Thank you,” that would be enough.”  That quote from the 13^th century known as Meister Eckhart  seems appropriate in this week of Thanksgiving, with all our ambiguity about the holiday, and with many of us dreading visiting family members whose political views are different from ours.  The holiday in America originated in 1789 when George Washington proclaimed it so after the Constitution was ratified.  Although Thomas Jefferson did not celebrate it, many folk did.  Soon after the huge Union victory at Gettysburg in 1863,  President Abraham Lincoln declared a national day of Thanksgiving to be celebrated on the last Thursday in November.  That held until President Franklin Roosevelt changed it to the 4^th Thursday in November, which is where it stands now. 

            Most Anglos in my generation grew up with the pleasing images of Native Americans and Anglos eating together in peace at the first Thanksgiving.  As we know, the reality was much different, and once I learned that alternate reality as a young adult, Thanksgiving has never been quite the same.  It was one demarcation of Anglo self-congratulation on our having accomplished so much in such a rigid and fierce world.  Unable and unwilling to name the backs of the ones upon whom we built our “kingdom,” we have assumed that Thanksgiving is a national holiday to be revered by all who love America.  I am noticing this year for the first time that Thanksgiving is about America and not just about gratitude in general.  I guess that I have been a dunce and have not noticed how much of American religion is built on Thanksgiving.  Out of the hardscrabble of life, we of Anglo heritage have built a new nation in the West, a “city upon a hill,” as Puritan minister John Winthrop once called it in the 1620’s. 

            To paraphrase Robert Frost's poem "Birches," let no power hear my misgivings and swift me away to a land of starvation and famine.  Indeed, Robert Frost is a prime example of this issue.  In his poem “The Gift Outright” the first line is “The land was ours before we were the land’s.” Published in 1923 and also read at the inaugural of John Kennedy as President in 1961, Frost expresses this sense of Anglo entitlement that is at the core of Thanksgiving.  But, as I was saying, let no power misunderstand me and take me away.  I am a reforming Anglo, but the power of Thanksgiving is rooted deeply in me, from gathering with family and friends to the good smells of food cooking to the holiday from school and work, to the sense that there is possibility at the heart of life.  My mother was a big Thanksgiving fan (and even bigger fan of Christmas!), so it is imprinted in me.  As I write this, we are in Michigan with our family. I just asked my granddaughter Zoe what she liked about Thanksgiving, and she said “The food – yes, family, too – but definitely the food.  I love the food!”

            Yet I must return to the Meister Eckhart quote and refine it with a quote from the great philosopher Shug Avery in Alice Walker’s Pulitzer Prize novel “The Color Purple.”  When the abused and defeated Celie is looking for a new vision, Shug comes along and begins to lift her spirit and her imagination. As they are walking through a field one day, Shug urges Celie to note the vast array of beauty in a world that seems engulfed in ugliness.  Shug puts it this way:  “I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it.”  That book helped to change my life, too, and I also believe that it offers a window into a new vision of Thanksgiving. 

            At the heart of our lives should be this attitude of gratitude.  I hate to put “should” with “gratitude,” but in my own life, I have found that seeking to practice the attitude of gratitude can begin to shift the way we orient ourselves to life, to one another, and to ourselves.  I wake up each day and seek to feel grateful for the day that I have been given, even if I dread it greatly.  If I’m not feeling grateful, I seek to locate the source of the blockage and examine its power in my life.  Most of the time it works to lessen the sense of anxiety.  So, wherever we are geographically and spiritually in this week of Thanksgiving, let us remember that one prayer and the color purple.   Let us say “Thank You!”

"WHO BELONGS?"

“WHO BELONGS?”

            Our daughter Susan lived in Albuquerque from 2005-2008, working in an Americorps program and then working for the Albuquerque public library.  We visited her while she was there and saw many wondrous and strange sights – the Sandia mountains (10,000 feet), Los Alamos, Truth or Consequences, Santa Fe, Taos, and Ghost Ranch, among others.  As I think about Native American Heritage Month, I am reminded of visiting the Acoma Pueblo, about 60 miles west of Albuquerque.  It is one of about 20 tribes or pueblos in New Mexico.  “Pueblo” is a Spanish word for village or town, and in this area, it refers to housing built on the flattop mountains called “mesas.”  One of the many striking things about the landscape of New Mexico was its lack of trees, so you could see these flat mesas from hundreds of miles away.

            Acoma Pueblo is built atop a sheer-walled, 367-foot sandstone bluff in a valley studded with sacred, towering monoliths. Since 1150 A.D., Acoma Pueblo has earned the reputation as the oldest continuously inhabited community in North America.  Throughout the land, from the waters of the Atlantic to the shores of Puget Sound, others have come and gone, but the Acoma have stayed in the Southwest.

            The area only averages seven inches of rain per year, and one of the docents on our tour told us that they pray sincerely for rain every day.  Though they would not put it this way, I was struck by their Calvinist leanings.  We asked them about sharing political power, and they replied that the men were the ones who held political office in the tribe.  (I don’t know if women are ineligible to run, or if it is just traditional).  When we frowned at learning that only men held the political power, our docent indicated that they had their way of controlling that imbalance – they are matrilineal.  The women own the property!  To paraphrase the old Loretta Lynn song, “don’t come home oppressing with loving on your mind.”  When we asked what happened when the men made a bad political decision, she indicated that they would have to sleep outside.  They aren’t kidding either – the property passes from mother to daughter or to nearest female relative.  They had a great distrust of centralized power, and in their culture, there was a balance of power, with checks and balances.

            We then learned of their horrible interactions with European powers – in 1599, a Spanish army killed over 500 males and some 300 women and children, in a massacre to subdue them.  This massacre destroyed over 13% of their population, but the Acoma people did not let it crush their spirit.  Though it did limit their autonomy, the Acoma remained strong and vibrant and refused to yield their culture to the Spanish or to anyone else, although the Spanish and later the Anglos oppressed them and tried to acculturate them.  As we sadly know, this history is the same across the United States – the scourge of white supremacy took so many destructive and deadly forms.  And, as we see in today’s world, it still does.

            We visited the Acoma Cultural Center at Sky City, and we learned some of this history and of the Acoma (and other peoples) attempts to reclaim and to live out of their culture.  Because of their history with those classified as “white,” they are loathe to interact with white people, except (and this is a BIG exception) to give us tours and to take our money.  They have a hotel and a casino for Anglo (and other) money, and its main purpose is to recover, to preserve, and to deepen Acoma culture.  They have annual sacred rites, in which they join with the other pueblos in the Southwest.  Our docent emphasized that Anglos were not welcome to attend those because they did not want to be tainted any more than possible by the destructive powers of Anglo culture.   She also emphasized that they would not allow other Native American cultures which had interacted too much with Anglo culture.  When I asked her about tribes like Cherokee and Creek (the tribes familiar to me in Georgia), she said definitely not. 

            So, on a hot dusty summer day on that mesa in that Native American territory, I was called on to recognize my own history as a person classified as “white.”  Though we have provided many benefits to humankind, especially the idea of equality (which of course, we acted like we did not believe), I was struck by the many similarities of our destructive hand in slavery and in the massacre of indigenous people.  It called to mind Nahum’s prophetic words to end his prophecy in the Bible about the Babylonians:  “For who has not known your endless cruelty?”  

"VETERANS DAY"

“VETERANS DAY”

            I was talking with a financial advisor on Friday about a possible investment, and he said that he would get back to me today with some possible alternatives.  I replied:  “But, that’s Veterans’ Day – will ya’ll be open?”  He said:  “Yes, we will.  I don’t like it, but the stock market is now open on Veterans’ Day.  It used to close, but some time ago, it started being open on Veterans’ Day, so we have to be open.”  I thought to myself:  “Wow, I knew that capitalism reigned, but I did not realize how complete its victory is.  The markets in America not even closing on Veterans Day, which we say that we revere so much.”

            I have a very complex relationship with Veterans’ Day.   My mother’s almost-fiance was killed fighting in World War II, and my father, whom I never knew, was a World War II veteran also.  Though we never talked about it, I’m guessing that my mother married my father on the rebound on Christmas Day, 1945.  I was born 11 months later in November (yes, I counted the months in my previous puritanical days). And, of course, without that rebound, I would not exist!   I recognize and honor the many sacrifices that veterans and their families have made over the centuries for all of us.  I don’t believe that slavery would have ever ended in the South without the Civil War, and I recognize that Hitler’s march across Europe, and his rampant racism, was stopped by veterans of ours and many other countries.  So,  on this Veterans’ Day, I remember the likelihood of war and give thanks for those who seek to preserve peace and freedom (if not equality).

            Yet, in talking about World War II, the complexity begins to enter.  Hitler was created by the vengeful and shabby treatment of the Germans after World War I.  So, by the time that Hitler got rolling, war was likely a necessity, but what if Hitler had never gotten rolling?  Millions of people were killed in World War II – could they have been spared by a better peace at the end of World War I?  That complexity continues to roll through American history also, as our military veterans have often been used to subdue and oppress Native Americans on the land, have been used to

enforce the Fugitive Slave Act, have been used to slaughter African-Americans, as they were in my home county in Arkansas in the Elaine Massacre. Our friend and favorite songwriter Robin Williams penned in an early song entitled “Adam Rude” a powerful lesson in this history.  It was about an agent on the Indian reservation in the late 1800’s, an agent who was corrupt and stole property and land from the Native Americans:

“The Army promised shelter, the Army promised food,

But the Indians don’t get neither on account of Adam Rude

With their families slowly dying, brave warriors they do grieve,

And then they paint their faces and raise their lances bright,

It’s me the lowly private who’ll have to risk my life.”

            And then there is my own personal history with Veterans’ Day.  In 1970 I decided to withdraw from seminary and to challenge the automatic exemption from the draft that ministers and seminary students had.  I was among a group of people who felt that if we could challenge the draft-exempt status of church-related folks, then we could deepen resistance to the Vietnam War.  The draft board in Helena was glad that I had offered up my body to the sacrifice of the Cold War.  I was faced with three choices (other than going into the army):  become a conscientious objector, go to Canada, or go to jail.  I felt like the CO was an educated person’s draft exemption, but the other two options did not seem feasible.  I actually loved my country, but I felt that the Vietnam War was not an honorable cause for our country.  After several months of wrestling (and after being AWOL for the army physical), I decided to seek conscientious objector status.  I was approved for that, and I worked at Opportunity House in Nashville as my alternate service, which the CO required.  Opportunity House was a halfway house for men getting out of prison, and I learned a lot there about the injustices of the prison system in the USA – I learned a lot about myself, too!

            So, on this Veterans’ Day, I give thanks for those who have served in the Armed Forces, but I also recall that we often use our military for unjust purposes, so that gives me great pause.  Especially in these days when we have an unstable person as President, it especially gives me pause.  It’s complicated.

"NATIVE AMERICAN HERITAGE MONTH"

“NATIVE AMERICAN HERITAGE MONTH”

            This past week, Caroline and I were in Baltimore to see Susan and a play that she was directing at University of Maryland Baltimore County called “Hunting and Gathering.”  Since we were in Baltimore, Caroline wanted to travel across the Chesapeake Bay to the Eastern Shore to seek to find some of her Wallace relatives buried in Manokin Presbyterian Church cemetery in the 1600’s.  “Manokin” reminded me of the Native Americans who have largely disappeared from the Eastern Shore:  Nanticoke, Wicomico, Choptank, Tuckahoe, Pocomoke, and others.  These were names seen on streets and rivers as we passed by in our search.

            We did not find any markers for the “early” Wallaces, though “Find-A-Grave” indicated that they were buried somewhere in the cemetery.  There were no markers earlier that 1820, so they have faded away.  We had tried to make contact with the church, but we had no success.  The church had been founded in 1683 by Francis Makemie, with whom we had familiarity from our Norfolk Presbytery days.  We did spend the afternoon in Easton on the Shore, a small town that is seeking to claim Frederick Douglass’ heritage as part of its own.  It has a statue of him in the square, and there were banners everywhere in the square marking the 200^th anniversary of his birthday (a guess at best, since he never knew the year of his birth, but guessed that it was 1818-1820). 

            While he has been reclaimed, the Native American ancestors have not.  We got a taste of that disappearance when we went into a used bookstore in Easton to seek to find some postcards to send to our granddaughters.  The white, male proprietor of the store noticed my Baltimore Orioles baseball cap, and he asked me if we were from Baltimore.  When I replied that Susan was but I was not, he asked why anyone not from Baltimore would wear the cap of the last place baseball team.  I replied that it was a gift from my daughter and also that I could not wear the cap of my home team, the Atlantans, until they changed their racist name and images.  He looked puzzled and asked if I meant “the Braves.”  When I replied that I did, he then launched into an explanation of why the name “Braves” and its accompanying tomahawk chop and images were not racist, but were rather honoring the fierceness and courage of Native American peoples. 

            My response was that the Atlantans had not consulted with the Native American tribes of the land (mostly Creek and Cherokee) about their opinions of the baseball traditions.  Indeed, the comments of Native American culture are that such usage is demeaning and racist, especially since those tribes do not receive any of the millions of dollars generated by the use of their images.  He replied that the Native Americans should not be insulted by it, because it was not intended as racist.  Since I did not know him, I wanted to add, but I did not, that it was arrogant but not surprising of us white men to believe that we knew better about the opinions of other cultures than those cultures themselves did.  We have pronounced it, and it must be so. 

            As we enter Native American Heritage Month (or American Indian Heritage Month), let those of us who are classified as “white” be reminded of our terrible history in regard to Native Americans.  Let us remember our emphasis in the system of race that our intentions are much more important to us than the outcomes of our actions.  As this Anglo man stated, if white folk didn’t express an intention of racism, then our actions couldn’t be seen as racist.  Lest this seem like ancient history, it is the current SCOTUS position.

            But, as we enter this Month, let us also consider the many positive gifts of Native American heritage, and at this time in our lives, none seems more important that their reverence for Mother Earth compared to the Anglo ravaging of the earth.  As the icecaps and glaciers melt;  as the fires of the West burn;  as the typhoons and hurricanes and tornadoes blow;  as the temperatures and sea levels rise – in light of these and so much more, nothing seems more vital to all of us to go back and learn from these cultures who understand the powerful and complex links between all circles of life in the earth and the universe.  Our ancestors and our grandchildren cry out to us to learn and live this respect.