Jesus in a Basket

Those who know me best realize organized religion and I are at times incompatible. I am confident it is because of my rebel streak, that doesn’t like being told what to do or how and when to do it.
I often joke with Twin Rocks Trading Post patrons that I am here on Sunday because I would otherwise have to attend mass and answer for those things I don’t want to disclose, admit, or otherwise ask forgiveness for.
The customers just shake their heads, knowing I will ultimately answer for my obstinance. I intuitively know it too, but, like many things in my life, I continue kicking that can down the road, hoping when my time comes God will be compassionate and kind.
When my siblings and I were young, Momma Rose did her best to raise us in the Roman Catholic church and Daddy Duke did his darndest to teach us sound moral principles he said were required for us to succeed in a rapidly changing world.
Because there were no Catholic churches in our remote corner of Utah, however, we often attended St. Christopher’s Episcopal Mission, which was founded in 1943 by Father Baxter Liebler and is located just two miles east of Bluff.
In the early 1960s, St. Christopher’s was a beehive of activity and included a preschool, medical clinic, salvation services, and all the supporting personnel necessary to minister to the northern Navajo Nation and our isolated colony.
Despite my absence from regularly scheduled services over the past four decades, I have always had a highly developed fascination with Christian iconography. That might somehow be related to my intentionally suppressed knowledge that there will one day be a reckoning for my intransigence.
That may also have been what piqued my interest when Elsie Holiday suggested she explore images of Jesus through her basketry.
Featuring Jesus in Navajo baskets might seem spiritually inconsistent, but it is certainly provocative. I am often asked how Navajo people see Christ.
My answer is that it’s complicated, and, as far as I am aware, there is no universal answer.
Each individual Navajo has his, her, or their own belief system. I think it is fair to say that some traditional Navajos see Jesus as a powerful figure, but not a central focus of their spiritual beliefs.
Navajo people are diverse, and I am confident there is no single, monolithic view of Jesus and his teachings. The relationship between traditional Navajo beliefs and Christianity is complex, with many different perspectives based upon individual lived experiences.
There are varying interpretations of Jesus’ role and significance within the Navajo cosmology, with some seeing parallels to their own spiritual beings and others maintaining a stark divide.
Whatever her view on the intersection of Christianity and traditional Navajo beliefs, as an artistic exploration, Elsie’s proposal was intriguing and powerful, so I quickly got on board.
Elsie and I have been working together for more than 25 years, and I have learned to trust her instincts, so after a brief conversation about various interpretations, she climbed back in her car and headed west toward Monument Valley to begin the project.
It wasn’t long before she returned with the first basket featuring a Byzantine Christ, then came Picasso Christ, and finally, well, I am not sure how to characterize the third weaving, but it is striking.
Although I have seen hundreds, maybe thousands, of amazing baskets from the contemporary Monument Valley Navajo basket-makers, I have never seen anything like this.
Priscilla and I mounted the threesome on the eastern wall of the trading post, and I stare at them every day I am in the store.
It took a lot of courage for Elsie to attempt this set, but, as always, she managed to inspire us with her intelligence, design, colors, and execution.
With Elsie’s Jesus baskets on the wall of the trading post, I don’t feel so guilty for not going to church; I have my own altar right here at the store.
Surely God can understand that and forgive me my persistent absenteeism. Priscilla has cautioned me against making that assumption, but, like Elsie, I am willing to take the risk.