In 1996, the Governor General of Canada designated June 21st as National Indigenous Peoples Day, a day to recognize and celebrate the cultures of the Indigenous peoples of Canada. The Sunday before National Indigenous Peoples Day, is annually recognized by the United Church of Canada as the Indigenous Day of Prayer.

Now, many of us, especially if we attended elementary or high school in Canada, have learned about the many tragedies that the Indigenous peoples of this land suffered. We know that the United Church of Canada was complicit in acts of physical, emotional, spiritual, and cultural abuse, during the operation of so-called “Indian Residential Schools.”. 15 schools, Iin fact, the Church operated 15 schools between the Church’s inauguration in 1925 and ending 1969. In 1971, June 21st was recognized by the United Church of Canada as what they then called “National Indian Day of Prayer” – Indian being a term we now know to be as inaccurate as it is insensitive.

Fifteen 15 years later, in 1986, the United Church issued an official apology to the Indigenous peoples of Canada for their part in the brutal colonization efforts. But we know this. This is what is taught in our schools, is public knowledge. So why have a day for it, why bring up the history of this day, a topic that is so very uncomfortable, even painful to talk about, year after year? We talk about it, because the effects of the over 150 years of tragedy that Indigenous people suffered, those effects are still being felt. It is not just history; it is here and now. While the United Church’s last residential school closed in 1969, the very last government-run residential school did not close until 1996 – less than 30 years ago.

A few weeks ago, I had the honor of hearing Debra Sparrow speak, at Shaughnessy Heights United Church. Debra Sparrow is a Musqueam weaver, artist, and knowledge keeper. Her artwork has been exhibited at museums all over Canada, and most recently she translated a traditional Coast Salish design into brickwork, for the new First United building downtown. The blankets that she is most known for weaving are representations of her people, of her history, of all the teachings she received. Her blankets, she said, are the way her people tell their stories. An oral tradition, as old as time. A tradition, she pointed out, that millions have been a part of but perhaps none so famous as Jesus himself. Who shared his lessons orally, for he was not a writer. The books that were cherry-picked to justify horrible wrongs over the years, were not written by him. And what are we to think, as modern day Christians practicing our faith? Are we to believe that Jesus, who taught us of love and understanding and compassion, that that was truly what he would have wanted to happen to those children, to those families – especially in his name?

But those tragedies happened regardless. Debra Sparrow said that countless people ask her, how do we reconcile? Reconciliation is a big word, one that can be seen everywhere, but how do we actually go about it? And the answer to this question that she shared was that we cannot reconcile without first talking of truth. And the truth is that the effects of residential schools have been boundless, reaching generation after generation, family after family. The perpetuating cycle of abuse that started within Residential schools, the trauma of the school’s colonization tactics that led to incredibly increased rates of mental health issues and a veritable suicide epidemic.

These truths are uncomfortable for us to hear, but acknowledging them is a vital step in any path towards reconciliation. And so is listening to Indigenous voices. I can tell you what I heard her say, what I have read of her, but I by no means want to pretend I could ever fully understand, or fully represent her words and her history. We live in an age where information is incredibly accessible. Seeking out stories, watching videos, reading articles, listening to the voices of Indigenous peoples, that is the another step.

Debra Sparrow has been deeply involved in the ongoing revival of Musqueam weaving techniques – techniques and traditions that were in danger of dying out only a few decades ago. And one thing she spoke of very beautifully, was how immensely her weaving and her art has connected her with her ancestors. She talked of speaking to her grandfather, showing him what her and her sister had taken upon themselves to learn how to do, and him sharing stories she had never heard before, about his mother weaving. A traditional craft that represented their history, their culture, one they had not been allowed to do, not allowed to pass on or teach to their children. With nothing but spoken words, her grandfather had bridged a multi-generational gap – a gap caused by an attempted cultural genocide – and together they had kept a sacred tradition alive.

In a TED talk that she gave at Langara in 2021, Debra Sparrow said, “Where is it written that we all have to speak the same language to understand who we are?” and “Know who you are, know where you come from.”

The weaver Debra Sparrow told the congregation that how when people come to her and ask her to teach them how to weave, she says she will not teach them Salish weaving patterns. Instead, she will teach them how to weave the patterns and designs of their own cultures, if they bring them to her. Connection to our own cultures, our own histories, that is what we make meaning from. That is how we learn to respect other ways of life.

As humans, we need connection. And we come to Church seeking it – Whether it is with God, with community, with ourselves. I know that’s certainly why I came here. I had heard my entire life of the great, kind, steadfast man that my grandfather was. I knew he came to Vancouver in the 1920s, I knew he owned a grocery store on 10th and Sasamat and knew every customer by name. I knew he loved this church. But I didn’t know which pew he always sat in, until Sharon told me. And I’d never seen photos of him eating and laughing in the fellowship hall where we drink coffee every week until Sheila photocopied some for me last week from 1983. This place connects me to my family, to my history (even if that history does involve leaving our home, our land to settle here). So when Debra Sparrow spoke of her ancestors, of being connected across time and space with an oral tradition of storytelling as old as the First Peoples – it moved me.
Connection matters. And for so many Indigenous families, it was stolen from them. Connection to their stories, their ancestors, their culture. We must honor our own histories, and do all we can to support and empower Indigenous peoples in reclaiming theirs.

One of our readings today, Psalm 8, reminds us of the majesty of our earth, of the immense honor the human race was given as not just rulers of God’s creation, but caretakers of all that He built. The flocks and the herds, the birds in the sky and the fish in the sea, belong equally to all daughters, sons, and children of Adam and Eve. We have been taught that all who are made in God’s image hold this honor, and were equally given the responsibility to uphold this sacred relationship. And the Indigenous peoples’ who had been taking care of this land for thousands and thousands of years before Captain George Vancouver’s boat arrived on these shores, they honor that relationship, that connection. Psalm 8 states that God made humans a little lower than angels, and put everything under our feet. His majestic name lives in all of us, as we all are connected to each other. In times of such hate and division and seeming resurgences of more rigid, oppressive ways of thinking, it can be hard to remember that – but we must.

So let us show the world that our strength as an Intercultural, 2SLGBTQ+ affirming, truth and reconciliation driven Church, is our ability to listen. Our dedication to showing the support, openness, and care that we learn from the teachings of Jesus himself. Let us nurture our connections and reach out for new ones (or old ones), and move forward holding truth close to our hearts and reconciliation in our minds, showing all we meet that Christ’s inclusive love is for us all. Amen.