Morning Thanks--what I understand

Spokane Woman, 1898, photograph by Frank LaRoche

If some evil scientist had wanted to create a place where rape would become a primary element of a culture, then he would have built something very much like an Indian reservation.

That's Sherman Alexie, in his new book, You Don't Have to Say You Love Me, a book that reads like an almost endless scream, whether you're red or white. Alexie grew up on the Spokane Indian Reservation in Washington. He's talking about his mother and, painfully, telling the world that, on the reservation, she was raped.

That scientist would have put sociopathic and capitalistic politicians, priests, and soldiers in absolute control of a dispossessed people— of a people stripped of their language, art, religion, history, land, and economy.

Alexie's memoir makes you wince because his story is so profoundly broken you can't help but wonder how anyone growing up in a similar situation can grow out of brokenness themselves. Unlike Dances with Wolves, You Don't Have to Say You're Sorry will not create wannabees. 

 And then, after decades of horrific physical, emotional, spiritual, and sexual torture, that scientist would have removed those torturing politicians, priests, and soldiers, and watched as an epically wounded people tried to rebuild their dignity. And, finally, that scientist would have taken notes as some of those wounded people turned their rage on other wounded people.

On my screen, there's a red line under "epically" because Word doesn't think there is such a word. I don't know. What's clear from Alexie's memoir, however, is that the words we use in ordinary conversation aren't sufficient for describing the world Alexie evidences when he talks about his reservation childhood, his family situation, his parents' lifelong problems. What he's trying to do throughout this scream of a memoir is come to grips with it, a mission that's not at all easy.

My family did not escape that mad scientist’s experiment. In my most blasphemous moments, I think of that evil scientist as God.

I feel no joy or peace at reading those words--or so many others throughout this violent recital; but as a white Christian, it's impossible not to take note of the fact that twice in the paragraph I've just quoted Alexie puts the word priests in league with politicians and soldiers, uses that word, with the others, to take aim on the force that he claims created "an epically wounded people." Priests carried destruction. People of God did. People bringing the gospel did. 

Not all Native people I know are as angry as Sherman Alexie. Not all of them grew up like he did. Not all white priests and missionaries were simply agents of an oppressive white culture whose mission it was to rob Native people of a way of life. I wish there were a Hall of Fame for missionaries. I'd nominate several. But Alexie is very angry, and there are others, and they are not a few.

Last week, according to Christianity Today, Nepal made Christian evangelism punishable by law. "No one should involve or encourage in conversion of religion," the newly enacted law maintains. "No one should convert a person from one religion to another religion or profess them own religion and belief with similar intention by using or not using any means of attraction and by disturbing religion or belief of any ethnic groups or community that being practiced since ancient times."

I should be appalled, I know, and alarmed. As a Christian, I should be outraged. 

But I'm not. I think the newly enacted Nepali law is wrong-headed, and I hope it's rescinded. But I can't help but say I understand.

Besides, where the Creator of heaven and earth wants to love his world and its people, his people, a ordinance or two, even if it's national law won't stand in his way. 

This morning I'm thankful for a book I wouldn't wish on anybody, a memoir that's helped me to understand.