Why These Apache Catholics Felt Faced with a ‘False Choice’ After a Priest Removed the Church’s Icons

MESCALERO, New Mexico (AP) — Anne Marie Brillante never thought she would have to choose between being Apache and Catholic.

For her and many others in the Mescalero Apache tribe of New Mexico who are members of the St. Joseph Apache Mission, their indigenous culture has always been intertwined with faith. Both are sacred.

“When we heard we had to choose, it was a shock,” said a tearful Brillante, a member of the mission’s parish council.

At the heart of this tense, unresolved episode is the 8-foot Apache Christ painting. To this close-knit community, it’s a revered icon created in 1989 by Franciscan monk Robert Lentz. It depicts Christ as a Mescalero medicine man and has hung behind the church’s altar beneath a crucifix for 35 years as a reminder of the sacred unity of their culture and faith.

On June 26, the church’s then-priest, Peter Chudy Sixtus Simeon-Aguinam, removed the icon and a smaller painting depicting a sacred indigenous dancer. Ceramic chalices and baskets donated by the Pueblo community for use during the Eucharist were also taken.

Brillante said the priest took them while the region was still in the grip of forest fires that had killed two people and destroyed more than 1,000 homes.

The Diocese of Las Cruces, which oversees the mission, did not respond to several emails, telephone messages and a personal visit from The Associated Press.

Parishioners, shocked by the empty wall behind the altar when they arrived for catechism class, initially thought the artifacts had been stolen. But Brillante was informed by a diocesan official that the removal of the icon was taking place under the authority of Bishop Peter Baldacchino and in the presence of a diocesan risk manager.

The diocese returned the icons and other objects after the community’s outrage was reported by several media outlets, and the bishop replaced Simeon-Aguinam with another priest. But Brillante and others say it’s not enough to heal the spiritual abuse they endured.

Brillante said their former priest’s recent actions had reopened old wounds, suggesting he wanted to purge them of their “pagan” ways, and that it had derailed the reconciliation process Pope Francis began in 2022. That year, Francis offered a historic apology for the Catholic Church’s role in boarding schools for indigenous peoples, which forced indigenous people to assimilate into Christian society, destroyed their cultures and tore apart families.

A spokesman for the U.S. bishops’ conference declined to comment on the Mescalero case. But last month, the conference overwhelmingly approved a pastoral framework for indigenous ministry that pointed to a “false choice” many indigenous Catholics face — to be indigenous or to be Catholic:

“We assure you, as Catholic bishops of the United States, that you do not have to be one or the other. You are both.”

Several former priests of the mission understood this, but Brillante believes that Simeon-Aguinam’s recent demand to make that “false choice” runs counter to the bishops’ new guidelines.

Larry Gosselin, a Franciscan who served St. Joseph from 1984 to 1996 and again from 2001 to 2003, said he sought approval from 15 Mescalero leaders before Lentz began the painting, which took three months to complete.

“He threw himself into that painting,” said Gosselin, who explained that Lentz sprinkled gold dust on himself, skipped showering, and used his body oils to help the gold adhere to the canvas. Then he gave the painting to the humble church.

Albert Braun, the priest who helped build the church building in the 1920s, respected the Mescalero-Apache traditions in his ministry and was so beloved that he is buried in the church, near the altar.

Church elders Glenda and Larry Brusuelas said the bishop needed to publicly apologize to right this wrong and repair the damage.

“You don’t call or send a letter,” said Larry Brusuelas. “You confront the people you offended and offer a guarantee that it won’t happen again. That’s the Apache way.”

While Bishop Baldacchino held a two-hour meeting with the parish council in Mescalero after the items were returned, Brillante said he seemed more concerned that the icon was “rushed” back in place than acknowledging the damage or offering an apology.

Still, some are hopeful. Parish council member Pamela Cordova said she sees the appointment of a new priest by the bishop, who is more familiar with the Apache community, as a positive step.

“We must give the bishop the opportunity to prove himself and let us know that he is sincere and wants to set things right,” she said.

The concept of “inculturation,” the idea that people express their faith through their culture, has been encouraged by the Catholic Church since the Second Vatican Council in the early 1960s, said Chris Vecsey, professor of religion and Native American studies at Colgate University in Hamilton, New York.

“It is quite shocking to see a priest assigned to a parish with indigenous people in 2024 behave in such a disrespectful way,” he said. “But it does reflect a long history of concern that mixing these symbols could dilute, threaten or pollute the purity of the faith.”

Deacon Steven Morello, the Archdiocese of Detroit’s missionary to Native Americans, said the goal of the U.S. bishops’ new framework is to correct the ills of the past. He said Native spirituality and Catholic faith have much in common, such as burning sage in Native American ceremonies and incense in a Catholic church.

“Both are meant to cleanse the heart and mind of all distractions,” he said. “The smoke rises to God.”

Morello said Pope Francis’ encyclical on caring for the Earth and the environment, titled “Laudato Si,” addresses the sacredness of all creation — a core principle that indigenous peoples have lived by for millennia.

“There is no conflict, only commonality, between indigenous and Catholic spirituality,” he said.

There are more than 340 Native American parishes in the United States, and many use native symbols and sacred objects in church. In every corner of the Mescalero church, Apache motifs flow seamlessly into Catholic imagery.

The painting of the Apache Christ hangs as the centerpiece of the centuries-old Romanesque church, whose rock walls rise 90 feet high. Artwork of tepees adorns the lectern. A mural near the altar depicts the Last Supper with Christ and his apostles depicted as Apache men. Tall crowns worn by mountain dancers, called “gahe” in Apache, hang above small paintings depicting the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ.

For parishioner Sarah Kazhe, the painting of the Apache Christ symbolizes Jesus appearing to the people of Mescalero.

“Jesus meets you where you are and he appears to us in a way that we understand,” she said. “Living my Apache life is no different than going to church. … The thoughtless, unthinking act of removing a sacred icon sent a message that we didn’t matter.”

Parishioners believe that the Creator in Apache lore is the same as their Christian God. On a recent Saturday night, members of the community gathered to bless two girls who had come of age. Kazhe and Donalyn Torres, one of the church elders who gave Lentz permission to paint the Apache Christ, sat in lawn chairs with more than 100 others and watched as crown dancers blessed them.

Under a crescent moon, the men wore body paint and high crowns, dancing to drumbeats and chants around a large fire. The women, including two girls wearing deerskin and jewelry, formed the outer circle, moving their feet in a quick, shuffling motion.

In the morning many from the group attended Mass in their church, where the Apache Christ had been restored to his place of honor.

The painting shows Christ as a Mescalero holy man, standing on the sacred Sierra Blanca, greeting the sun. A solar symbol is painted on his left palm; he holds a deershoe frame in his right hand. The inscription at the bottom is Apache for “giver of life,” one of their names for the Creator. Greek letters in the upper corners are abbreviations for “Jesus Christ.”

Gosselin, the former mission priest, said he was struck by the level of detail Lentz captured in that painting, particularly the eyes — which focus off into the distance, much as Apache people would when discussing spirituality. He believes the painting was “divinely inspired,” because the people who received it felt a sacred connection.

“This has resonated in their minds and in their hearts,” he said. “Now, 35 years later, the Apache people are fighting for it.”

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