… a path forward is starting to take shape …

In 2022, the 225th General Assembly approved an overture to meaningfully address the wounds inflicted on Alaska Natives, who were directly impacted by the sin of the unwarranted 1963 closure of Memorial Presbyterian Church, a thriving, multiethnic, intercultural church in Juneau, Alaska.

  Since Monday, an interagency delegation from the Office of the General Assembly and Presbyterian Mission Agency has been in Juneau to meet with the Healing Task Force to begin the process of learning and understanding ahead of a visit in October 2023, when the Formal Service of Acknowledgement, Apology and Commitment to Reparations will take place. 

We invited members of the delegation and the Healing Task Force to share their thoughts, reflections and insights as they discern their experiences during this journey. This is not only to give them an outlet for sharing and growth through reflection, but to help the greater church gain a better understanding of these trips, as well as the process and spirituality of repair. These expressions may come in words, art, video, photography, etc. 

We invite you to pray with this delegation and join members in imagining future possibilities in light of what is experienced and learned in Juneau and provide a model for future applications to repair historical harms. 

A reflection from Pastor Matt Paul | First Presbyterian Church of Port Angeles, Washington 

I’m not sure how to describe the day and the talking circle we had yesterday. Plus, it is late and I’m really tired, but I want to pass some things along before I collapse.

The last couple of days have been really hard, but the path forward is starting to become clearer. It will entail more work moving forward, but I think it will be good work on many levels.

When I spoke with Sasha Soboleff, the oldest son of the late Rev. Dr. Walter Soboleff, the other day, he told me something to the effect that I should listen with my eyes as well as my ears. I took that to mean that I should pay attention because things will not always come directly. Whether I got that correctly or not, that is how things seem to be playing out.

For instance, one participant in our conversations who was a teenager when Memorial closed told me a story about his village in Angoon and how he was asked by the elders in the early 1980s to go to Washington, D.C., to represent the village in seeking an apology from the Defense Department for a naval bombardment that destroyed the village 100 years earlier. He pointed me to a video on YouTube that documents a ceremony commemorating the 100th anniversary of that event and told me to watch it.

Watch the video here.

I did, and it was quite informative and revealing about the nature of apology in the Tlingit culture. I’m not sure if he meant it in this way, but it had quite an impact on me. Long story short: he met with an assistant secretary of defense who denied their request and said that an apology would “open up a can of worms.” He was given a Naval Academy midshipman’s cap because the undersecretary thought, “hats seem to be important to your people.” In the video, there is a man wearing that hat as a symbol of the government’s shame. At one point in the ceremony, the people call upon the U.S. government to apologize — and what follows is a two-minute silence before things continue.

From left to right: Richard Chalyee Éesh Peterson is Tlingit and Haida from the Kaagwaantaan clan. He grew up in Kasaan, Alaska and is a lifelong Alaska Native of Southeast Alaska. He has served as President of Central Council of the Tlingit and Haida Indian Tribes of Alaska since 2014, the largest regional federally recognized tribe in Alaska with over 36,000 tribal citizens.
Dr. Rosita Worl, whose Lingit names are Yeidiklasókw and Kaaháni, is Tlingit, Ch’áak’ (Eagle) moiety of the Shangukeidí (Thunderbird) clan from the Kawdliyaayi Hít (House Lowered From the Sun) in Klukwan. Kaaháni serves as the president of Sealaska Heritage Institute. She is an anthropologist and for many years served as assistant professor of anthropology at the University of Alaska Southeast.
Lance X̱ʼunei Twitchell is from Tlingit, Haida, and Yup’ik Native Nations. He is a scholar, poet, and language revitalization advocate. He is Professor of Alaska Native Languages at the University of Alaska Southeast. He speaks and studies the Tlingit language, and advocates for indigenous language revitalization. He is also a multimedia artist in poetry, fiction, drama, non-fiction, Northwest Coast Native design, and traditional and contemporary music. He was appointed by the governor to serve on the state’s Alaska Native Language Preservation & Advisory Council.
La quen náay Liz Medicine Crow (Haida/Tlingít) is from Ḵéex̱ʼ Kwáan (Kake), Alaska. She is an enrolled Tribal Citizen of the Organized Village of Kake. On her Haida side she is Eagle, Tíits G’itanée, Hummingbird. On her Tlingit side she is Raven Kaach.ádi, Fresh Water-marked Sockeye Salmon, of the Kutís Hít House. Her maternal grandparents were Mona & Thomas Jackson, Sr. of Haida Gwaii/Hydaburg and Kake, respectively. Her paternal grandparents were Lillian and Charles Cheney of Washington. Her parents are Della and William Cheney of Kake. La quen náay’s heart is always at home in the village with her family and people. Integrating Native knowledge and values into organizations, governance mechanisms, and everyday life is a primary passion and responsibility she has pursued through her education and career. Since coming to First Alaskans Institute, La quen náay has served as the Director of the Alaska Native Policy Center, Vice-President, and now serves as the President/CEO, providing a direct path for service to Native peoples. (Photo by Corey Schlosser-Hall)

At a conversation we had today with Tlingit members from the community, including the president of the Sealaska Corporation, a for-profit corporation representing the Tlingit, Haida, and Tsimshian tribes, one person called out three times: “Is there anyone here from the Navy? Is there anyone here from the Navy? Is there anyone here from the Navy?” This, of course, was met with silence. I don’t recall the context of why she said that at that exact moment because I was so floored by how it paralleled the video.

The point of that story is that the people do not forget. They remember in order to honor the dead — which in the case of the Angoon bombing was a shaman and several children. (By the way, there was another parallel found in a totem in town that depicts a man with outstretched hands of brass. It represents an instance where a white miner failed to repay a debt to the tribe.) Anyway, in the case of Memorial Presbyterian Church, on account of the overture, some people are only now becoming aware of what happened. If the apology does not strike the right chord, will our denomination/presbytery be carved on a totem in a posture of shame?

One other observation is that our work this week is already having an effect on the community, or at least a small portion of it. We heard from people today who are not Christian but who revere Dr. Soboleff and for whom our conversations have dredged up memories of generational trauma. Specifically, the Sheldon Jackson boarding school in Sitka and the Haines House orphanage in Haines.

In order to understand the harm caused by the racist closing of Memorial Presbyterian Church, we must also understand how that one action relates to so many others that were all part of a system of oppression. This is part of an overarching sense we are getting from the people we’ve heard from that in order for the apology and reparations to be meaningful, they should be part of an ongoing commitment healing. The hope of all is that what takes place with this apology and reparations will have a ripple effect in the community, throughout Southeast Alaska, and beyond.

From left to right, Richard Chalyee Éesh Peterson, Dr. Rosita Worl and Lance X̱ʼunei Twitchell present as part of the Healing Task Force. (Photo by Corey Schlosser-Hall)

I will say that I am deeply, deeply, honored by what people have shared with us. The overture has brought up a lot of pain, but hopefully pain that is in service to healing — for the community and for the Church of Jesus Christ. I keep wondering what could have happened had Memorial not been closed and a revered Native pastor not been removed …

Anyway, I believe a path forward is starting to take shape and I am grateful for how the people we have met are pointing us in the right direction of how to proceed. They have been clear that we need to do the work and it is not up to them to solve the problem for us. So, we will indeed have more work to do … not the least of which is attending to the relationships we are forming.