Christianity and Indigenous "Problem" of Culture

Last week, Vanuatu kept returning to my mind (for those of you who haven't followed my blog, which I don't blame you, I used to live there). These islands weren't talked about specifically in class, but the idea of missionaries dealing with indigenous people was. Numerous people brought up the issue of missionaries coming in to places and almost forcing people to assimilate to the Western ideology of Christianity.... building churches, schools, Western civilization.... etc. I've experienced this first hand, only for me, I was the missionary. When I lived in Vanuatu as a missionary, we ventured off from the main island of Efate and travelled south to one of the most remote islands of Tanna. Here's a map to get a good mental image. Besides the semi-active volcano and the array of cargo cults, what makes Tanna so unique is that they have successfully remained remote amidst the other island's vastly growing economy..... everything about the people who live there is simple: their clothes, housing, diet... here are a few pictures:

(The "stove." Don't let this fool you, I had the best bread that I've ever tasted made on top of this)

The reason this relates to class is because of what happened while we were visiting the smaller island. While we did go to preach the gospel, I came to learn their culture. I've always been fascinated by people so I dove head first and was trying to learn everything about them. They taught me how to kill for dinner, make the fire (as seen above), and even how to weave together a house. Through sharing life together, I became good friends with them, a few women in particular. We bonded as fellow brothers and sisters and I cared deeply about them. One day, the women brought me into their house and sat me down. I didn't know what to expect. I can still recall a few women shaking and giggling from excitement as they announced that they were inviting me to one of their biggest rituals that celebrated boys coming into adulthood (no White person had ever seen it, i later found out). Without a moment of hesitation I said Yes. The women instantly began designing my "outfit" (this included bird feathers, straw, and, well, that's about it besides paint).Thrilled, I raced out to express my enthusiasm to the missionary couple that I had been living with (they were in charge of the entire trip down to Tanna). I can still see their faces, lined with outrage and disgust, looking down on me as if I had just agreed to go dancing with the Devil himself. They told me "NO" and if I even spoke to the women about their event again then I would be in trouble. Believe me when I say that I had never been more confused in my entire life....................... 


Sparing y'all the boring details of who said what and when and where, I'll sum up why the missionaries were so appalled that I wanted to partake in the indigenous' ritual. To begin, I'll summarize what the ritual was actually about. Once a boy in the village turns 11, he is sent out into the jungle for six months with no one to speak to except the elders (men). These boys are taught the ways of the village, how to hunt, the laws, but most importantly, how to be a Man. These boys go in groups and when they return, the women of the village throw a HUGE festival welcoming these boys back as Men. They give them gifts, sing songs, and dance all night long. My missionary friends didn't think that I should be a part of this because they were afraid for what it represented and how that may possibly "clash" with Christianity. They didn't fully understand what the songs were about so they didn't want me singing them (turns out most of the songs were about crops, such as potatoes).  They also were afraid that if I were a part of this ceremony than it would remove the invisible boundary between being a missionary and being there to have a good time. All of this I slightly agreed with (let me reiterate how slightly I agreed with them), but I still begged to go. 


One of the villagers, who had been a church leader back on the main island, told us that if we didn't go then we would be offending them and their culture. So, biting their tongues, the missionaries agreed to let me go. I wasn't allowed to participate in anything, but at least I got to witness a beautiful customary ritual in their culture. Here are some pictures that I snuck to remember the night: 

The boys arriving with the elders and mentors. It was neat to watch as the line wrapped itself around the men already there until it was a spiral.

The women and mothers dancing, cheering, and singing around the men celebrating their return to the village. (Notice the treehouse... it's much higher than it appears. Yeah, probably more badass than any treehouse in America)

Sylvia, the lady missionary, sat me down and we did have a good discussion. We worked out why I was so angry at them, which I was, and she shared with me all the boundaries that she has overstepped in her time as a missionary. She was making sure that I wasn't going to do the same. All of this to say that it truly is a difficult task to know how to be a missionary... how to bring the Gospel of Jesus but not bring Westernized Christianity. I think there is a fine line because as missionaries, we want to bring what we know about being in a Christian, but the truth of it is that Jesus's church is worldwide.... it encompasses all People, tongues, and nations. Sometimes I wonder if, as missionaries, we should even teach the idea of a Church being confined in a building..... what a Westernized thought! It honestly saddens me that when I think of Christianity I think of a building instead of a relationship with Jesus. If anything, I want to see how Christianity is manifested in Tanna's own way. How beautifully different it would be and how much would we learn from seeing Christ through their cultural lens. 

This has always been an issue and I think it always will be. There is no black and white answer on how missionaries are to be connected with the people whom their are trying to share the Gospel with....  I have seen the problems that missionaries have caused in America with the indigenous Indian nations..... forcing them to assimilate to their rigid understanding of civilization... forcing the Indians to abandon their culture for one that the missionaries believe to be more Christian....... Looking back I can't blame them. I may not agree with what they did, but I can understand their attempt to be a missionary to a people who lived entirely different than they (I hope this doesn't make me sound like I agree with the atrocities that happened because I don't). People make mistakes, sometimes catastrophic ones, but that doesn't mean the journey stops there. I think as a Christian I have the responsibility to make amends with the American Indians... to try to reconcile what my ancestors did (an entirely different topic for another day). I may never get the chance to do it personally (most likely it will be through proactive political support and awareness for American Indians) but it's something.


I can still remember going to bed that night. It was a good two mile hike through the jungle to get to their ceremony, but I could still hear their songs from where I was sleeping..... I imagined myself right beside them.... dancing birdlike around a blazing fire, singing the songs of a family, happily celebrating my friends becoming Men.... I can almost taste the dust in my mouth from the whirlwind of people... I can almost feel my sore, aching, happy feet as they've been dancing all night... I almost see it, all of it.

Going in to celebrate the first service in the brand new church on Tanna.