by Johannes Kleiner

Keith Basso masterfully chronicles the Apache’s understanding of wisdom, in his seminal Wisdom sits in Places: Landscape and Language Among the Western Apache. Place names are used as tools to evoke vivid imaginations of stories and terrain in a person’s mind to teach them a lesson and eventually make them wise. The reference to well known places functions as hands-on memory aid: “‘Look at the mountain and think about it! It will help make you wise.'” (122) When recalling specific place names, imagination explodes in a form similar to intense daydreaming (cf. 89): “Western Apache place-names provide more than precise depictions of the sites to which the names refer. In addition, place-names implicitly identify positions for viewing these locations: optimal vantage points, so to speak, from which the sites can be observed, clearly and unmistakably, just as their names depict them.” (89) The listener is transported to different places in his/her surroundings and visually rooted in a particular spot—all in the creative realm of the mind.

Wisdom in Apache life is acquired by the knowledge of places and the stories (be they myths or real events) connected to them. Ultimately, wisdom aims at the avoidance of danger and is seen as an “instrument of survival.” (131). In this vein the storied places call to mind misfortunes, accidents, precarious situations, and socially as well as personally destructive behavior. But what all this instruction and learning really hinges on are well trained and cultivated skills of observation.

First of all, observation skills are needed to be able to recall the instructional tales. One needs to be acquainted with the places invoked in such an intimate and conscious way (let’s call it place-awareness) that mentioning a place-name can translate effortlessly into a mental stage. This requires an attentive familiarity with the lay of the land. The intended transportation of the individual to the places in the daydreaming of the mind relies on the fact that the person has been there before, paying particular attention to features of nature.

Second, the learner of Apache wisdom is called to closely observe the events in the story and figure out what the point of the story is. This is a creative exercise and sometimes quite mind bending, as Basso’s own journey to comprehend the complex meaning of speaking in names illustrates (cf. his ch. 3). What did the person in the story do wrong? What is the lesson to be learned here? Detail orientation and a grain of empathy serve the student best. This relational-awareness drives home the point of how to avoid danger and misfortune.

Third, wisdom is an exercise in continuous observation. On the one hand the stories teach what to be on the look-out for: indications of danger, suspect social behavior, unsafe places, etc. On the other hand the exercise of acquiring wisdom itself involves to be on the look for more and more stories and places to expand one’s own mental map. Awareness as way of life and way of—practical and social—survival itself.

Observations that lead to different ways of awareness are central in the life of a wise Western Apache. The wise person is ultimately the person aware of places and their stories and teachings. Put more clearly: the wise person is aware of the storied nature surrounding him or her. This insight is shared cross culturally and across the divide of time with many other conceptions of wisdom. In the Hebrew Bible wisdom is frequently conveyed through the close observation and awareness of nature and natural phenomena and what they tell the observer about life. For example, one only needs to consider the observation of the ant in Proverbs 6:6 or the observation of natural processes in Ecclesiastes 1:2-11. Wisdom teaching, constructed by humans, is (at least partially) rooted in the other-than-human world and human attentiveness to it.

Where do we root our wisdom today? In books, science, computers…? If we want to become wiser people, both, the Western Apache and the biblical tradition urge us to train our observation skills. But not just any observation skills! Especially those connected to nature and the other-than-human actors that fascinate us and draw our attention. When our surroundings and co-habitants become storied and instruct the aware observer, our relationship to our ecosystem changes. We value it more, because it teaches us. When we root wisdom in nature, through stories and analogies, nature becomes a resourceful and invaluable companion.

I suspect that we are much less likely to do harm to a landscape, an animate being, or to interrupt processes in an ecosystem from which we derive meaning for our own lives. Maybe it is high time to be re-inspired once more by the bible and the Apache to story nature and relate to it in an observant and highly aware way. This form of mutual and respectful human-nature relationship might be the beginning of the much needed change of mind for us in the age of climate change and natural degradation. Let’s explore how we can re-learn and cultivate this connection of wisdom to nature in our modern Western societies.

A reflection inspired by Loyal Jones’ Faith and Meaning in the Southern Uplands

How can we best understand the people of the Southern Uplands, without our preconceptions and prejudices take over? Loyal Jones’ answer is to let the people of the region speak for themselves, through their writing, interviews and, not least, their music! Jones notes: “The words of songs always tell us the basic theology of the
people,”(p. 181) and “those who wish to understand religion in the mountains must listen carefully to the hymns for their layers of meaning and observe and talk with the singers, so as to perceive their feelings and sentiments.” (p. 200). I suspect that music is not only one place among others to find the real Southern Uplands, but maybe THE place to do so. Music, much more than sermons and writing, touches people’s minds and hearts, while also engaging their bodies (by movement, resonance, and other embodiments of song) (cf. the account in Jones, 193). This holistic engagement reveals multiple layers of meaning and gives insights into a people’s soul.

These points are driven home for me week after week at Our Lady of Lourdes Catholic
Church here in Atlanta. The oldest African American Catholic parish in the city, OLL prides itself for its excellent music ministry featuring the best that African American Catholic music has to offer. The music combines an amazing sensitivity to the biblical texts it is based on (or the traditional texts of the Catholic liturgy respectively) with traditional African American rhythms and rhetorical figures. In this, the music inculturates theology. The African American experience is cross-fertilized with the Catholic experience and achieves one major feat: it makes room—creates a place—for the distinct African American culture within the still mainly Euro-centric Catholic Church.

Before the second Vatican Council (1962-65) enabled a more open approach to different cultural elements in the setting of the mass, African American Catholics often
had to choose between culturally sensitive and nourishing Sunday services and their Catholic denomination. It was not uncommon that African Americans would attend protestant services just for the music and the connection to their roots. A meaningful place for their religious experience was inextricably connected to music as place maker, music as integral part of their spiritual geography.

In the aftermath of the Council, the African American priest and composer Clarence
Joseph Rufus Rivers, quickly accompanied by a wide range of African American
composers such as Rawn Harbor, created culturally sensitive and meaningful
music that ever since has enriched the Catholic Church and made it a more
welcoming place of worship. This music encapsulates the history and theological
perspectives of African Americans and actualizes and inculturates both time and
time again.

The experience of the Southern Uplands is none of finding a place, where there was
none, but music plays the same role of communicating a culture, a theology more effectively than words alone could. And that is the great potential of the music: it provides an avenue into better understanding an appreciating a people and their cultural heritage. The Songs are always culturally particular, but at the same time they are hybrids of different influences that convey a complex history. But above all, music is universally accessible to human beings and thus a great teaching and appreciation tool.

My experience in the Bay Area and now at Our Lady of Lourdes led me to adopt African
American music and worship practices as my own primary form of worship. The power of the music is what drew me in, but it is also what intensified my interest in learning more about African American culture and history in general. After reading Loyal Jones’ book, another, more effective, and more appropriate way to learn about and appreciate the religiosity of the Southern Uplands is to listen to the music, both sacred and profane, originating from there and let it touch and inspire us (together with the stories and personalities of the musicians). In the study of American Religions–in the attempt to place American Religions–I am more and more convinced that we need to consider music as a (and in some cases even the primary) place where meaning resides and where appreciation and learning happens.