"Reconciliation"

Native activist Mark Charles likes to say that the word reconciliation doesn't really apply in movements or attempts to bring Indigenous people together with the those who, even long ago, colonized land that simply wasn't theirs, land that belonged to First Nations. After all, there can't be re-conciliation where there never was cooperation or conciliation; you can't rebuild something never constructed. Therefore the two peoples--colonials and the those they displaced--need to work at conciliation, bringing people together who have never been.

Start where you will--Jamestown or Plymouth Rock--relations between Native tribes and Europeans pouring into "the new world" were never all that loving, despite our turkey-and-gravy Thanksgiving fantasies. White folks took land that wasn't theirs to take, and did so with religious intensity. "Manifest Destiny," the belief that "the new world," in its entirety simply belonged to those who would farm it, nurture it to its own full economic potential, made unmistakably clear that this land belonged to the able-bodied immigrant peoples "yearning to be free."  Ours was a destiny that was clearly manifest, quite simply, in this new nation's land mass--"of course it's ours, it's there for the taking."

Call it what you will: when it seems that something good and lasting can be redeemed from the dark corners of this nation's history, it's always worth noting. And not long ago that's what happened just outside of Philadelphia, when  Mennonite land-owners, whose families had been there for hundreds of years, hosted an Oklahoma tribe, the Delawares, who are looking to bury their ancestors in a homeland once theirs.

The 1990, the Native American Graves and Protection and Repatriation Act created a problem somewhat unforeseen. After the law's passage, museums and universities were required to give back the human remains and funerary items they held to the tribes to whom they rightfully belonged. Tribes greatly appreciated the return, but had to determine what to do with what they were given. For the Delaware (who prefer to be called the Lenape) most of those honored dead likely never lived in Oklahoma.

Discussions began when a noted Mennonite historian, John Ruth, met a Lenape couple, John and Faye Thomas, and began to talk about the dilemma the Oklahoma descendants of Pennsylvania tribal elders faced. To them, space in a Mennonite cemetery wouldn't be satisfactory. The burial ground had to be a place that didn't have meaning to other people.

Just a month ago, on April 12, The Mennonite Heritage Center in Harleysville, Pa., hosted the visit from representatives of the Lenape tribe, and the talks officially began. After a potluck supper with local Mennonites, Chief Brad KillsCrow, tribal elder John Thomas, and tribal historic preservation officer Susan Bachor presented their request: land to bury their ancestors.

“Our ancestors helped you," Mr. Thomas told the crowd of over 100 Mennonites. "Your ancestors helped us. I humbly ask if there is anything you can do.”

And so, the talk has begun. When the public meeting concluded, those who had gathered broke into song, an old favorite. You guessed it--"Blest Be the Tie That Binds."

I'm not sure if Mark Charles would call that reconciliation or conciliation; but even though a month has passed, right now, I'm can't help but think I can still hear that old beloved hymn all these many miles away.

 Lenape meeting with Pennsylvania Mennonite community