Preaching the Bible on Turtle Island [5 of 6]
Scriptures:
1 Kings 21 – Naboth’s Vineyard
Galatians 6:1–10 – Bear One Another’s Burdens
Matthew 5:1–11 – The Meek Shall Inherit the Land
Chikasha saya. I am Chickasaw.1 And I am from Oklahoma. My mother’s family can trace its Chickasaw heritage throughout Chickasaw Nation lands in what is now Oklahoma, from Thackerville to Ada, and to Pauls Valley.
But we can also trace our heritage along the trail of removal to what Chickasaw people refer to as our homelands in what is now northwest Mississippi, western Tennessee, and parts of other states. Our people’s origin story is a story of migration to these lands alongside our sibling tribe, the Choctaws, with whom we share much of our identity and language.
The Chickasaw Nation lands in Oklahoma are now the center of our tribal life. The Homelands, however, are our ancestral heritage. The separation of my people from our Homelands is very much like the story of Naboth’s vineyard. People in power acted in bad faith solely to satisfy their own wants and desires at our expense.
It is a sad story, a story of loss. But it is also a story of what White Earth Chippewa writer Gerald Vizenor calls “survivance.” Separation from our Homelands is just one part of our story. At the Chickasaw Cultural Center in Sulphur, Oklahoma, the story we tell about ourselves is one of enduring sovereignty. In the seasons of our tribal life, our “Chickasaw Winter” isn’t removal but Oklahoma statehood and the ongoing process of stealing our lands and challenging our sovereignty. We work to preserve our people and wait for a time of vindication. We stand with prophetic confidence.
The story of Naboth’s vineyard, of course, isn’t our story alone. It is a story shared by many other Indigenous peoples who have struggled to maintain ties to their lands, old and new. Chickasaws share this story with the other tribes and nations of what is now the Southeast of the United States and with all peoples who have experienced this country’s unrelenting territorial expansion. My sense is that we also need to recognize that we share this story with other Indigenous peoples around the globe.
The story of Naboth’s vineyard first came to my close attention through the writing of Palestinian liberation theologian Naim Ateek, a priest in the Anglican Church. In his book Justice and Only Justice, Ateek offers this story as an appropriate way to understand Palestinian experience and the hope of liberation in Palestinian land.
Most liberation theologians have focused on the Bible’s story of exodus—the Israelites being freed from Pharaoh’s grasp—as the key biblical story of liberation. Indigenous folks like Ateek and Osage scholar Robert Allen Warrior, however, have pointed out that the exodus also necessarily comes with a conquest of land. That conquest includes the genocide of the Promised Land’s indigenous peoples. While the Bible’s narratives of deliverance and conquest must be grappled with, other stories provide more life-affirming options.
My own experience as a Chickasaw citizen from Oklahoma who eventually traveled, studied, and lived in many parts of the world indicates to me that Indigenous peoples have a great deal to learn from one another. We don’t need to focus on our own people’s stories alone, however beautiful or however hard. Indeed, if we become too focused on our own stories or our own self-interest alone, we may fall prey to Ahab’s temptation, expanding at the expense of others.
Instead, we must recognize that we—those of us within the global community of Indigenous nations—are called to bear one another’s burdens. When we listen to one another’s stories, especially when it comes to our relationship with our traditional lands, we will often find parallels of purpose.
The difficult truth is that the world is not set up to concern itself with the burdens of Indigenous communities, in the United States or anywhere else in the world. Who will look after us if not we ourselves? At the same time, we must have a broader aperture than concern for our tribe or nation alone. We are all Indigenous peoples with deep connections to land and to one another.
Elijah’s indictment of Ahab’s vindication of Naboth—the truth of land theft and generational harm—reminds us that the meek will indeed inherit the land. It may be briefly seized by others, but it will return.
Being meek does not mean that we must be weak or surrender to defeat. No self-respecting Chickasaw would accept that. When we reference this verse, it is important to remember that “meek” translates the Greek word praus, meaning “disciplined strength under control.” It is the strength of a highly disciplined warrior or dancer who stands ready to take the field when necessary, whose strength and dignity are admirable even when they are standing still.
Just as Christians are called to be in complicated, diverse community with one another, we must be at the forefront of global Indigenous solidarities. This is true in the Brazilian rainforest. It is true in Palestine. It is true where Indigenous languages are in need of preservation and where the lives of Indigenous communities are under threat. We are called to bear one another’s burdens.
Like Naboth, Indigenous peoples the world over know what it means to live under threat and deception from greedy people who are unsatisfied with what they already have. We know that their false plans may succeed for a short time. Nevertheless, we have faith in Creator that the prophetic indictment of the greedy will be accomplished. In the meantime, we will continue living into our purpose as the Indigenous peoples of this world God loves.
Notes
- This article is part of the six-part series, Preaching the Bible on Turtle Island.
