"The superior man thinks always of virtue; the common man thinks of comfort."
--Confucius (551-479 BC)
I REMEMBER A conversation with a friend and spiritual brother in Australia. I was 30, at the time, and he, old enough to be my father. He came to our current Evangelical church with a family, a Chilean/Spanish surname, and resolute Calvinistic and protestant leanings. I came singly, as an Anglo with equally ardent thoughts on human choice and anti-sectarianism. Because of injustices suffered at the hands of the established church--particularly the enslavement and murder of Indigenous peoples by self-proclaimed Catholic explorers and soldiers--he could not believe the Catholic denomination compatible with Christian belief. As I was watching Cabeza de Vaca (1993) recently, I found it easy to agree with him.
The film by director Nicolas Echevarria is based on the journal of 16th Century Spanish explorer Alvar Nuñez Cabeza de Vaca, and presented by infamous and inventive B-movie director Roger Corman--himself noted for using profits from schlock films to finance and distribute art films. With a filmic style reminiscent of a BBC nature documentary or a Mike Leigh project--i.e., gritty, up-close, and frank--it portrays the journey of a treasurer named de Vaca (Juan Diego) who discovers much more of value in the New World than gold, including honor and brotherhood. Using few subtitles, the film relies on image and on emotions evoked by each actor--an ensemble that includes the landscape, the Native dances, and the camera movement itself.
One might compare the film with Roland Joffé's The Mission (1986). Both deal with Indigenous peoples and the impact of colonial invaders, and the geographic areas are consecutive--Echevarria's film focusing on Florida and New Mexico, Joffé's on South America. Further, though the time periods are a century apart--with Joffé's film set in the 1700s--the historical parallels are simultaneously provocative and haunting. Both portray the lethal struggle between spiritual truth and institutional profit; and both contemplate unreasonable love. Both films also focus on a man from among the enslavers--an individual set apart from the masses--who comes to love those he is sent to enslave.
Yet, the filmic styles are wholy dissimilar--including the uses of color and perspective. Where Joffé favors brilliant splashes of hue, Echevarria dwells in a subtle, almost monochromatic pallette. As a result, the damp reds, greens and blues of the Amazon melt into the hardened browns, yellows and pinks of the Pueblos. While Joffé passionately pursues spiritual enlightenment as someone familiar with Christian text and orthodox history, Echevarria fervently highlights the unorthodox, subjective experience of a foreigner immersed in a strange, new world. Thus, Joffé's Enlightenment thinker and his unabashed paternalistic concern gives way to that of Echevarria's tortured brother who comes to believe in ghosts
These ghosts come as savages, and as brothers. The Natives are wholy unfamiliar. In de Vaca's words: "And I speak and speak and speak ... because I'm more human than you.... Because I have a world, even though I'm lost.... Because even you were created by God." It's this last thought that catches de Vaca by surprise. As he's subjected to the Natives' world--by net, cage, tether, and stick--he slowly comes to know the edges of their ways. At first, he is harrassed, bullied and belittled by the Shaman and his cohort; in his silence, he serves his captors and mimics their actions. Yet, as de Vaca travels with them, he's drawn to healing others--and this sets him free. For a while.
"The God who made the world and everything in it ... does not live in temples built by hands" (Acts 17:24). And in this wonderous world, de Vaca is free to wander among canyon recesses, into awe-inspiring caves, and along red clay valleys. Free to heal a young Indian boy speared in the chest, and return him to his people. Free to experience a Native culture vastly different from his own, but where honor, thankfulness, and celebration are shared. At the same time, de Vaca's free from a 'civilized' culture that moves stone only to build thick-walled cathedrals for human lords. Free from Conquistadors that meld horse, silver, and Native alike to their single-minded pursuit--gold and glory. Gold as impossible to find as these Spaniards' Christian devotion. Glory as impure as the lies the men tell of their exploits. Lies of which de Vaca once said there are "no greater evil".
Surely, lies are central to this imbalanced healing art that subtly ensnares de Vaca. As Christ Jesus said: "When an evil spirit comes out of a man, it goes through arid places seeking rest and does not find it" (Luke 11:24). Neither can de Vaca find rest. Drawn into an inbetween world of stifling sickness and evil spirits, of dizzying rites and insatiable demons, he first heals a malady he himself helps create. Even as de Vaca brings a woman back from the dead, his desire to help people is slowly subverted. For de Vaca comes to believe the only reason to stop marauding nature is to worship it. The only way to live in this world is to appease the next. The only faith that considers the Indians brothers is "The Faith"--a belief system exclusive of both Spain and Christianity.
Still, isn't de Vaca closer to God than all those self-proclaimed Christians who whisper their devotions and don't do likewise (James 1:22)? Who habitually kiss the cross and exploit other people (Proverbs 14:21)? Isn't he, alone, doing what his Father wanted (Matthew 21:28-32)? For though de Vaca discards his crucifix when he discovers Conquistadors have returned to the coast, he also sends away the Native boy he'd befriended: "My brother, please go away from me." Maybe he'd not heard the Christian tenet: "You cannot serve both God and money" (Matthew 6:24). Nor seen this Christian text: "Are [the rich] not the ones who are slandering the noble name of [Christ Jesus]? If you really keep the royal law found in Scripture, 'Love your neighbor as yourself,' you are doing right" (James 2:7-8). Yet, unlike his companions, de Vaca calls the Indians brothers, not savages.
Truly, the savages are familiar spirits. They are Capitan Pantillo Narvaez who abdicates responsibility for those in his charge: "From now on ... every man for himself." A Spaniard ruled by his appetites--his lust for gold and glory--he consumes his crew in his selfishness, preying on the trust of those who would follow him. A Spaniard true only to himself, he recognizes expediency as the only authority. To self-proclaimed Christians like Capitan Narvaez, savages are only people different from themselves--with a strange language, custom or value system. Instead, the Capitan should have glanced in the looking-glass. Likewise, de Vaca's other companions on the expedition settle for comfort and compromise. They'd rather be thought of as sane than honorable, as loyal to their country rather than their conscience. "We are going ... to have to lie."
And so they survive. After all, the world of corporate progress--of supply and demand--cannot recognize individuals, but only profit. Institutions won't pursue justice, but only the bottom-line. Big business will never bow to anything but a thick wallet; it knows its master. Truly, it is only individuals who may do such. One person, and another. And one more. Indeed, if de Vaca came to understand this much of Christ's teaching--that the Indians are brothers to the Spanish--this much of Truth, a few others on the expedition may have too. And more. That it's not the hue of someone's skin, but the condition of one's heart--pliable, compassionate, of flesh not of stone (Ezekiel 36:26). That it's not the denominational banner under which one assembles, but the person of Christ whom that someone follows. That it's not merely what you say, but how you live it that matters.
In this world full of contradictions--this world we must live in yet not be of, this world Christ so loved and also warns us to come away from, this world of inspiring beauty and seductive evil--we must practice discernment. We are not followers of Christ if we cannot tell the difference between being 'civilized' and being loving, between self-justification and justice, between unhealthy compromise and mercy, between human accomplishment and the Glory of God (and when the two conflict). We are not followers of Christ if we cannot recognize a church without a steeple--even when the Church stands right before us, every brown-eyed, brown-skinned child. We are not followers of Christ if we allow ourselves excuses for past sins done in His name--for enslavement, abuse and dehumanization of any of God's children. No matter if we agree with the victims on who exactly this god is, or not.
Still, as I wake from the bewitching prospect of de Vaca's story, I know it's not as simple as condemning each person involved for following the orders of his Captain, or Bishop, or Queen. For all establishments--eg, the military, the church, the government--are supported by money; each expedition, scientific venture, or piece of art must have a sponsor, and all human progress has a very human price. I don't think the answer's simple at all; or, that there is only one. But, I do know Christian faith is not something we proclaim for ourselves; God proclaims it first. I do know all people, Christians included, act differently in a group than on our own--often to the detriment of all involved. I do know the instinct to survive is sometimes more powerful than the conscience, but that Christ is a God who forgives the humble. A God who loves mercy. A God who does justice. A God who created us to be like Him (Micah 6:8; 1 Peter 1:16).
And I know there are Catholics who believe this, too. And Baptists. And 7th Day Adventists. And, probably, some Evangelicals. (Yes, that's tongue-in-cheek.) Someday I hope my Australian/Chilean friend will know it, too. Until then, I want him to know I love him--my brother in Christ. Recently, many Americans celebrated Columbus Day--the day the daring Spanish explorer Cristobal Colon happened upon the New World. In honor of my Chilean brother, let's not forget its significance....
This was the day settlers discarded the cultural contributions of Indigenous peoples--including oral stories and histories, pottery and pictographs, dance and music--asserting that the misnomer 'savage' applied more to Native than settler. The day, in the name of absent monarchs, Colonial invaders began to divide and sell land previously stewarded by Indians. The day racism again seeded among strangers, forcing Native people into serfdom--a system known to Spaniards of Columbus's day as "the encomienda system"--and quickly decaying into slavery. The day a handful of settlers purposefully distributed enough disease-infected blankets to Natives to decimate entire villages. The day another treaty between Indian and European was broken--one of some 800 broken agreements between Natives and our American predecessors. For these betrayals, all Americans should sorrow.
Autumn days now stretch toward Thanksgiving--the day that commemorates when half the initial number of half-frozen Pilgrims gave thanks for, as William Bradford writes, "all things in good plenty" with those who had instructed and labored alongside them, their wary but compassionate Indian neighbors. Let's not forget its significance, but honor my Chilean brother....
This was the day the Wampanoag people introduced wild turkey, their 'Three Sisters' (ie, corn, beans and squash), and games similar to lacrosse and football to the Colonial settlers. The day a treaty was respected between Massasoit (aka Osamequin) and the English, "initiated not by the Pilgrims but by the sachem himself"--a peace that lasted Massasoit's lifetime (ibid). The day when differences in skin color and language weren't as important as celebrating Divine goodness and a common humanity. The day when a few Christians may have glimpsed their brother, their neighbor, and the image of God in the Indigenous peoples around them. In these things, all Americans should hope. Christians most of all--for we worship a God of forgiveness. A God of new beginnings. On that, everyone can agree. Even when it's far from easy.
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For more on Cristobal Colon (ie, Columbus), the New World, and Columbus Day:
The Columbus Navigation Homepage: Navigation, Ships & Crew (Keith A Pickering)
Who Really Discovered America (Keith A Pickering)
The Library of Congress: Today in History
For more on Thanksgiving:
Through English Eyes, with Links to Several Biographical Sketches
The Library of Congress: Today in History
For more on the contemporary situation among Native Americans:
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