Daddy Knows Best
but the Mothering Spirit of Life knows us better
When I was 13-years-old, I was invited by my father to “enter into adulthood,” to the learn responsibility and accountability expected of the men in my family. No, there wasn’t a coming-of-age ceremony like those I have witnessed on Navajoland, where a boy is taken into a sweat lodge with an elder and given sacred instructions. There was no hanbleca and naming ceremony, where a boy is sent up on a hill to fast and pray to receive the divine vision that would orient his life and his new name and identify, as I have learned about amongst the Oyate of the Dakotas. There was not even a father-son retreat, like those that were popular in the 90’s with evangelical Christian communities.
We went to the bank. I had a check I received for my birthday in the amount of $13, and we were opening my first checking account. I was, now, officially part of the “market economy.” I was learning how to be a productive member of society. And yet. In those days, First Alabama Bank did not allow a minor to be the sole owner of a bank account. So, my father was a co-owner on my custodial account. Practically speaking, this meant he had the right to oversee and control all my spending – not a good use of his time with my meager $13. But it reflected the paternalism of a Daddy-Knows-Best mindset that we see, even today, in the language of the President of the United States, who crowed upon his return from a NATO Summit, “Daddy’s home,” following an oblique reference by the NATO commander to “daddy” during a press avail with Trump.
This kind of Daddy-Knows-Best paternalism has long oppressed Indigenous peoples in this country, all of whom were part of thriving, sovereign nations long before any settles arrived on North American shores. And Daddy-Knows-Best paternalism wasn’t just the policy for the federal government, whose agents amongst Indigenous tribes referred to the President as the “Great Father.” The Church – and its missionaries – reinforced paternalism as the mode for relationship with Indigenous peoples, only the Church reinforced its paternalism with the authority of the Almighty. When Henry Bejamin Whipple, the first Episcopal Bishop of Minnesota, was accused by the Red Lake Ojibway of “speak[ing] for the Great Father,” Whipple reportedly responded, “No … I speak for the Great Spirit.” So recounts Indigenous scholar, Tink Tinker.
At a recent Executive Committee meeting for the Episcopal Church, G.J. Gordy, a friend from Navajoland, preached a powerful sermon on the long silence of Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist, whose lips were loosed when he proclaims the fulfillment of God’s promise for God’s people (Luke 1:68). GJ told us,
When I think of Zechariah’s long silence, I don’t think of someone being ignored. I think of someone who’s waiting. Someone who’s been carrying a sacred promise for a long time, with no guarantee they’ll get to see it fulfilled.
That’s a feeling we know deeply in Navajoland.
For decades, our elders, our mentors, our clergy, and lay leaders have dreamed of this moment — of Navajoland becoming a diocese in its own right. A Church grounded in the rhythms of our people, our language, our culture, our land. A Church that reflects both the Gospel and our sacred ways.
I think of our past leaders who prayed, worked, preached, and served on the land long before many of us arrived. They never stopped planting seeds. They believed in the voice of the Diné people. And they spoke that vision even when it was still far off.
They taught us that leadership is not control—it’s commitment. And they remained committed.
Many of them did not live to see the day Navajoland would be named a missionary diocese.
But they carried the dream. They cleared the path. They prepared the way, just as John did.
And like Zechariah—who waited a lifetime to hold his son in his arms—these elders remind us that sometimes, even when we don’t live to see the promise fulfilled, the promise still comes.
After her sermon, the Executive Council of the Episcopal Church ratified the Navajoland as a self-determining diocese. What does that mean? It means that, unlike its prior 47 years of existence, the House of Bishops would not be appointing another well-intentioned White man to manage the spiritual needs of the people of Navajoland. Instead, the people themselves will be identifying their own leader in a manner that honors the “values, teachings, and traditions of the Diné.” Recognizing that the Spirit of God doesn’t need a White man to reveal itself to an Indigenous community or lead that community into flourishing is not just a characteristic of self-determination, it is a renunciation of White Supremacy.
It also Biblical. As Psalm 139 reminds us, “Where could I go to get away from your spirit? Where could I go to escape your presence? If I went up to heaven, you would be there. If I went down to the grave, you would be there too! If I could fly on the wings of dawn, stopping to rest only on the far side of the ocean — even there your hand would guide me” (7-10).
If Psalm 139 is right (and I know its truth in my bones), what exactly did our missionaries to Navajoland believe they were bringing? Because it certainly wasn’t the Spirit of God. The Spirit of God was already there! Had the Church better honored the witness of scripture, our missionaries might have actually discovered a Gospel of Jesus made known and made new amongst the people of Navajoland.
In recognizing the spiritual sovereignty and self-determination of Navajoland, the Episcopal Church has actually opened itself to the ongoing enter and revelation of God Amongst the Diné. It may well be “evangelized” by the very peoples it once sought to “convert” to Christianity and civilization. Perhaps, now, it will be the Episcopal Church that will experience conversion.
It is a powerful and holy vision. So powerful that Warren Hawk, a Lakota member of Executive Council rose and claimed it for his people. “There have been whispers across the Niobrara for a long time that this may be possible for us, and I want this for my people, too!” So holy that Bp. Jonathan Folts of South Dakota, also a member of Executive Council, called on Warren a few days later at the 153rd Niobrara Convocation to “put an end to those whispers” and bring the conversation into the light. The next day the air in the Lakota Cultural Center was electric when Warren’s resolution creating a commission to study the possibilities for the self-determination of the Niobrara room passed unanimously — with Bp. Folts’ commitment to “walk with you and support you 100%” if self-determination is what the people want.
May we honor the Spirit that ever proceeds the church, and may we recognize that for all that “Daddy” may know, the mothering Spirit of Life will continue to seek us out and find us, if we are open to the unexpected encounter and revelation of the divine. Because she knows us best.
Wow. Wow. This was a barnstormer of a post, Joe. Well done as always, good brother. So many things splitting apart and coming together in this last week or two, for me personally and also nationally. It's almost too much to contain or understand.
I am as you know the noisy prophet down in Tennessee about the proposed partnership renewal between East TN and South Dakota. I've caused quite a stir about it, as far as I can tell nobody knows about amongst the lay people unless I bring it up. That's why I bring it up. I love our Bishops, but I do find our structures way too patriarchal and hierarchical and wish we had much swifter and more tribal network style communication networks. Alas, us Episcopalians do still tend to wait on "Daddy" or "Mommy" to tell us what to do. The old British empire heritage runs deep.
No matter. It was so beautiful to hear your joy in the revival happening right now amongst native Episcopalians. I imagine in your own journey and in the journey of the church this is the result of decades of struggle by many people, both native people and allies. For a while now, the concept of an Indigenous Christ has formed a chrysalis inside me, and appeals to me a lot but confuses my vast group of woke, totally secular friends who think frankly our church is kind of bullshit and organized religion is bullshit. Traditional native peoples who follow Jesus?! It's not a European empire thing?!?
Of course not. It was a message of universal forgiveness, love, and oneness with Creator and Creation that arrived 2,000 years ago, and it is for everybody. I buy it in my bones. Being a Christ follower is how I make sense of my life, how I have been saved from possible suicide and potential homicide, moments of desired violence, it is how I am learning how to forgive and love my parents especially my mother, it is how I am learning how to honor my ancestors including those whose ashes as well as many living relatives populate the prairie country around Yankton. Don't mistake me as any kind of holier than thou person.
I am a real screwed up sinner. And a couple years ago, hundreds of people gathered in a church in Knoxville to say to me "You are still God's most beloved child and you are Holy" and something become complete in me. My Grandma Myrtle always had this sense of profound sadness and watchfulness to her, and I believe she knew the true suffering of Christ. Hard times on the prairie in the Depression, big family with too many kids. Agreeing to be a Christian is kind of like agreeing to be a human being, and trying to be a good one despite knowing how we can stray from our holiness. It's good to have other people help you out.
I have always connected to tribal and earth settled peoples, no matter their race or place. Connecting with modern Americans, and often white American christians is hard right now- and I'm a white man. It's just hard. I've sort of had an awareness in my local church of a kind of blindness about what is happening with the current regime from "Daddy" Trump. The vast expansion of ICE indicates long term plans. And the internment centers being built, connected to corporate power and technology. It feels like the end point of a long, long road of white supremacy in this country that started in Jamestown- founded that's right by our Anglican forebears, bringing in slaves and pushing out native peoples, like any good group of colonizers.
So, in the last week I was about ready to quit the church. I can't really, I'm a confirmed member. But then this post..... Lord almighty thank you Joe. To see a white man who understands these things is a balm and a blessing. Guys like us always have that "backpack", and to give it up for the sake of other people who matter just as much to God as we all do is a medicine this country and land need. We are all one Rainbow Tribe of good human beings, Jesus says. That is our Original Blessing. Who else would let us know this except for our elder siblings the indigenous people? I LOVE what you say about maybe the native peoples will have to evangelize to us folks, the lost white tribe of Europe as I call us, who don't feel very rooted in much except for money and machines and and earthly power, all the things Jesus says to avoid. This time we could be the heathens, and native people can help lead us on a revival.
Three more remarkable connections- you know Tink Tinker! Of course you do, this is a small world. He's been a major presence for a while. And it so happens that my dear friend Christopher Watkins who is a UU pastor in Fort Collins, Colorado had Tink as a teacher in Divinity School, and Christopher and I are very dear friends dating back to pre-school, two intuitive and sensitive little white boys who always felt different. Christopher like you and me has been deeply questioning within UU world the very baseline of our western civilization, and how much of our western religion is idolizing the wrong things, and perhaps we are becoming our own Antichrist and we need to repent, renounce, and renew for Good Road ahead.
The last connection is I like that you and my home parish priest Father John Mark Wiggers are both Alabama boys, you should give him a holler sometime! He's profoundly inspiring and been a great guide and teacher for me, and is one of the reasons somebody like me was even able to join the Episcopal Church. I've become the loud prophet to his radical priest, and we've had an ongoing dialogue about just what the church is going to become in the future. And whether or not I can even bear it enough to stay in. It's hit and miss, right now kind of miss, and I don't think I want to be a show up every Sunday kind of guy for a while.
The church is just the people, gathered together connecting to God and following Jesus. I am pretty afraid about what is coming up. I have people who I am afraid for who don't have my skin color. I will have to make decisions, and they come first- before any involvement in the church. But it is stuff like this, and especially from guys with the skin privilege, that makes me think maybe I am still in the right place, maybe I am not just wasting my time. You, Christopher, John Mark, me, this is a good crew. We are all awakening.
Stay awake. Come what may. Keep writing this stuff, Joe. It is good medicine.
Thank you so much for this post. I had no idea. Hadn't heard a word about this yet in my Episcopalian community here in San Diego. I imagine I will be soon. The curious and wonderful confluence of Native Peoples and the Episcopalian tradition only affirms my own involvement with it.