Anne Marie Brillante never imagined she would have to choose between being Apache and being Catholic.
To her, and many others in the Mescalero Apache tribe in New Mexico who are members of St. Joseph Apache Mission, their Indigenous culture had always been intertwined with faith. Both are sacred.
“Hearing we had to choose, that was a shock,” said a tearful Brillante, a member of the mission’s parish council.
The focus of this tense, unresolved episode is the 8-foot Apache Christ painting. For this close-knit community, it is a revered icon created by Franciscan friar Robert Lentz in 1989. It depicts Christ as a Mescalero medicine man, and has hung behind the church’s altar for 35 years under a crucifix as a reminder of the holy union 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. Also taken were ceramic chalices and baskets given by the Pueblo community for use during the Eucharist.
Brillante said the priest took them away while the region was reeling from wildfires that claimed two lives and burned more than 1,000 homes.
Parishioners, shocked to see the blank wall behind the altar when they arrived for Catechism class, initially believed the art objects had been stolen. But Brillante was informed by a diocesan official that the icon’s removal occurred under the authority of Bishop Peter Baldacchino and in the presence of a diocesan risk manager.
The diocese has returned the icons and other objects after the community’s outrage was covered by various media outlets, and the bishop replaced Simeon-Aguinam with another priest. But Brillante and others say it’s insufficient to heal the spiritual abuse they have endured.
Brillante said their former priest opened old wounds with his recent actions, suggesting he sought to cleanse them of their “pagan” ways, and it has derailed the reconciliation process initiated by Pope Francis in 2022. That year, Francis gave a historic apology for the Catholic Church’s role in Indigenous residential schools, forcing Native people to assimilate into Christian society, destroying their cultures and separating families.
A spokesperson for the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops declined comment on the Mescalero case. But last month, the conference overwhelmingly approved a pastoral framework for Indigenous ministry, which pointed to a “false choice” many Indigenous Catholics are faced with — to be Indigenous or Catholic:
“We assure you, as the Catholic bishops of the United States, that you do not have to be one or the other. You are both.”
Several of the mission’s former priests understood this, but Brillante believes Simeon-Aguinam’s recent demand to make that “false choice” violated 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 the approval of 15 Mescalero leaders before Lentz began the painting that took three months to complete.
“He poured all of himself into that painting,” said Gosselin, explaining that Lentz sprinkled gold dust on himself and skipped showering, using his body oils to adhere the gold to the canvas. Then he gave the painting to the humble church.
Albert Braun, the priest who helped construct the church building in the 1920s, respected Mescalero Apache traditions in his ministry and was so beloved that he is buried inside the church, near the altar.
Church elders Glenda and Larry Brusuelas said to right this wrong and to repair this damage, the bishop must issue a public apology.
“You don’t call or send a letter,” Larry Brusuelas said. “You face the people you have offended and offer some guarantee that this is not going to 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 about the icon being “hastily” reinstalled rather than acknowledging the harm or offering an apology.
Still, some are hopeful. Parish council member Pamela Cordova, said she views the bishop appointing a new priest who was more familiar with the Apache community as a positive step.
“We need to give the bishop a chance to prove himself and let us know he is sincere and wants to make things right,” she said.
The concept of “inculturation,” the notion of people expressing 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’s rather shocking to see a priest who has been assigned a parish with Native people acting in such a disrespectful way in 2024,” he said. “But it does reflect a long history of concern that blending these symbols might weaken, threaten or pollute the purity of the faith.”
Deacon Steven Morello, the Archdiocese of Detroit’s missionary to the American Indians, said the goal of the U.S. bishops’ new framework is to correct the ills of the past. He said Indigenous spirituality and Catholic faith have much in common, such as the burning of 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 goes up 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 Indigenous people have lived by for millennia.
“There is no conflict, only commonality, between Indigenous and Catholic spirituality,” he said.
There are over 340 Native American parishes in the United States and many use Indigenous symbols and sacred objects in church. In every corner of the Mescalero church, Apache motifs seamlessly blend in with Catholic imagery.
The Apache Christ painting hangs as the focal point of the century-old Romanesque church whose rock walls soar as high as 90 feet. Artwork of teepees adorns the lectern. A mural at the altar shows the Last Supper with Christ and his apostles depicted as Apache men. Tall crowns worn by mountain dancers known as “gahe” in Apache, hang over small paintings showing Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection.
For parishioner Sarah Kazhe, the Apache Christ painting conveys how Jesus appears to the people of Mescalero.
“Jesus meets you where you are and he appears to us in a way we understand,” she said. “Living my Apache way of life is no different than attending church. ... The mindless, thoughtless act of removing a sacred icon sent a message that we didn’t matter.”
Parishioners believe the Creator in Apache lore is the same as their Christian God. On a recent Saturday night, community members gathered to bless two girls who had come of age. Kazhe and Donalyn Torres, one of the church elders who authorized Lentz to paint the Apache Christ, sat in lawn chairs with more than 100 others, watching crown dancers bring blessings on them.
Under a half-moon, the men wore body paint and tall crowns, dancing to drumbeats and song around a large fire. The women, including the two girls donning buckskin and jewelry, formed the outer circle, moving their feet in a quick, shuffling motion.
In the morning, many from the group attended Mass at their church, the Apache Christ restored to its place of honor.
The painting shows Christ as a Mescalero holy man, standing on the sacred Sierra Blanca, greeting the sun. A sun symbol is painted on his left palm; he holds a deer hoof rattle 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 mission’s former priest, said he was struck by the level of detail Lentz captured in that painting, particularly the eyes — which focus on a distance just as Apache people would when talking about spirituality. He believes the painting was “divinely inspired” because the people who received it feel a holy connection.
“This has resonated in the spirit and their hearts,” he said. “Now, 35 years later, the Apache people are fighting for it.”