The Oscar, the 'Godfather' and Littlefeather.

If you are movie fan like me, then you will enjoy the speculation and guess work surrounding the nominations for the BAFTA's, Golden Globes, and the Oscars. Some years it is going to be obvious who will go home with a shed-full of awards: the superb 1993 film, 'Schindler's List' won seven Oscars and seven BATFTAs and is still considered to be one of the most important films of all times. This film, shot in black and white, told the horrific tale of the Nazi Holocaust. It told of brave Jewish men, women and children who survived the wicked regime at Auschwitz-Birkenau through the dogged determination of a German industrialist, Oscar Schindler. He was no saint, treating his wife and mistresses appallingly. However, in his brokenness and failure, he recognised that he had to do something to save lives. One of my enduring memories is leading a service of Reconciliation in the chapel of the Salesian College in the Polish village of Oświęcim—a place that was to be re-named, in German, as Auschwitz. We were a group of educators from across Europe, and we prayed that such blatant racism and institutionalised racism be consigned to the dustbin of history. As the service came to an end, a violinist played the haunting theme tune from the movie—an evocative piece written by the great John Williams. Somehow that beautiful melody helped us to remember not just the thousand people that Schindler was able to save, but also the six million who needlessly suffered horrific deaths at the hands of evil women and men.

Twenty years earlier, the Oscar favourite was the mafia movie, 'The Godfather' Directed by Francis Ford Coppola, it boasted an all-star cast who told the story of the ruthless Corleone family. It received nine Oscar nominations, winning three including 'Best Film'. The iconic Marlon Brando won the best actor award; however, he boycotted the ceremony as he objected to the stereotypical characterisation of native Americans in Hollywood. As one who grew up as an ABC minor, spending my Saturday mornings watching endless 'cowboy and Indian' films, I understood where he was coming from. Native Americans spent their time in these films making strange noises and slaughtering innocents until the great white cowboy, usually John Wayne, came to save the day. These films never related the richness of Native American culture that I came to discover, especially in Arizona. They never helped us to understand the deep spirituality of Native American peoples that is very akin to Celtic spiritual understanding. These movies never helped me to understand the faith of those many Christian converts among the various tribes. Of course, these films ignored the discrimination and systematic displacement of people from their lands. These movies never told a much more interesting story of a small group of dispossessed native Indian people who reached out, in compassion to the suffering of Ireland during the dark days of the Famine.

The Choctaw Native American tribe originated in the area we know now as Louisiana. As a nation they fought against in British in the American War of Independence, fighting bravely in the 1815 Battle of New Orleans. Sadly, the bravery of these allies was treacherously repaid by the new United States government in their 'Indian Removal' policy: the Choctaw nation were forcibly displaced from their tribal homelands to make way for new European immigrants. Like the Irish in later decades, the Choctaw people had to face long pilgrimage to a new home in modern day Oklahoma in what became known as 'the Choctaw trail of tears'.

News of the Irish tragedy was reported widely in the US press. As coverage of the famine continued to ramp up, newspapers appealed to the American public to provide relief for those affected in Ireland—and Americans responded by sending funds. On reading of the suffering of the Irish, and consciously aware of their own pain, the Nation sent $170 to help with the aid effort. As today's tribal chief, Gary Batton told the news channel, CNN: 'we lost thousands on our trail of tears, and we understood their pain.' That $170 equates to over $5000 today, but it is more than just money—it is the widow's mite, as these people with so little reached out to those in deeper pain. There was a real empathy and deep understanding of what it means to suffer.

Importantly, this simple act of kindness has brought a real sense of solidarity among the two nations that lives to this day. In 1992, twenty-two Irish citizens walked the 'Trail of Tears' raising thousands of euros for the Somalian Famine Relief. Choctaw people are guests of honour at memorial 'Famine Walks' held in Ireland in our modern times. Friendship is not only tested through adversity but is made. In 2017 the beautiful sculpture, 'Kindred Spirits' was unveiled in Middleton as a symbol of that shared experience, with the Irish Government providing annual scholarships for Choctaw students to study in Ireland.

It is in this context that we need to understand Brando's boycott of the biggest night in Hollywood. Instead of going to the awards, he asked a Native American actor, Sacheen Littlefeather to refuse the award on his behalf. The significance of such a gesture was not lost on a global TV audience: she quietly and honestly affirmed that Hollywood's treatment of her people was unacceptable and wrong. Brando could not accept this high honour while such biased and unfair treatment was still allowed and practiced. Her live audience of actors and industry workers had mixed reviews. She also wanted to highlight the lack of diversity within the Academy itself. I was so disappointed to discover that my acting hero, John Wayne had to be physically restrained by security guards as he tried to storm the stage and physically attack this young woman. Her public stand led to few offers of work from the Hollywood and television establishment. However, she received support from the growing civil rights movement.

It is frightening to think that deep and open racism was very much alive and active in a nation based on equality and solidarity. Sadly, such evil has always been around, perhaps bubbling under the service. In recent years, we have seen a fresh expression of this bitterness as US politics has become increasingly more partisan and divisive. It is rather heartening to hear that the US Oscar Academy have decided to officially apologise to Ms Littlefeather in a gala evening to commemorate her stand. "The abuse you endured because of this statement was unwarranted and unjustified," former Academy president David Rubin wrote in a letter to Littlefeather. "The emotional burden you have lived through and the cost to your own career in our industry are irreparable. For too long the courage you showed has been unacknowledged. For this, we offer both our deepest apologies and our sincere admiration." After fifty years, an apology has come—it is a sign of hope. It is light in darkness: a living symbol of patience in an impatient world. I wish Ms Lightfeather well, as she enjoys this well-deserved gala night, aware of those who hurled abuse and tried to physically attack her are no longer with us to apologise. This is a story of patient reconciliation—it makes me aware of my need to apologise for those situations of ill-will and hurt that I am responsible for. In the horror of ethnic violence and genocide, Bishop of Rwanda, John Rucyahana can write and encourage each of us:

I knew that to really minister to Rwanda's needs meant working toward reconciliation in the prisons, in the churches, and in the cities and villages throughout the country. It meant feeding the hungry, sheltering the homeless, caring for the young, but it also meant healing the wounded and forgiving the unforgivable. I knew I had to be committed to preaching a transforming message to the people of Rwanda. Jesus did not die for people to be religious. He died so that we might believe in Him and be transformed. I'm engaged in a purpose and strategy that Jesus came to Earth for. My life is set for that divine purpose in Jesus Christ. I was called to that—proclaiming the message of transformation through Jesus Christ.

Author: Fr Gerry O'Shaughnessy SDB

Photo by Redd on Unsplash