How does one begin to talk about the life and ministry of Rev. Margaret Waterchief?
Those who knew her were touched by her aura of humility and wisdom. Her gentle strength enabled many to recognize their own God-given capabilities.
During the years she serve St. Cyprian’s Anglican Church, Brocket, she often spoke at United Church sponsored gatherings on the theme “Being Native, Being Christian”. At first when asked questions about “Native Spirituality”, Margaret would say she couldn’t talk on the subject because she had been educated by teachers and leaders of the Anglican Church, but would be glad to invite another friend to speak on the subject (as if “Native Spirituality” was non-Christian). But to my surprise and hers, one day she found herself talking about what the smell of the sweet-grass, the beat of the drum, the feather and the prayers spoken in Blackfoot meant to her spirituality. I was reminded of the Biblical passage at the end of Job’s story – where Job confessed to the Almighty “(There was a time) when I knew only what other people told me (about You). But now I have seen you with my own eyes.” Job 42:5)
“For many of us”, National Indigenous Archbishop Mark MacDonald said, “Waterchief embodies the aspirations of the emerging self-determining Indigenous Church within the Anglican Church of Canada.”
It was for Margaret a long journey. She was a residential school survivor who overcame racism, poverty and addiction. She quit drinking in her early 1980s and became an alcohol counsellor and lay Anglican priest. She was officially ordained in 1994 – the first Indigenous woman from Calgary Diocese to be so honoured.
Although she had been prevented from speaking her native Blackfoot at residential school, she eventually combined her Blackfoot traditions with Christian teachings in caring for her people.
“We always had fresh bread with our Agape gathering,” Margaret explained to me as she talked about the work she did with the Calgary CUPS (Calgary Urban project Society) program. “Although our budget was incredibly tight, we found the money for fresh buns from here-and-there”, she said. “This was the only time people from the street could enjoy the taste of bread that wasn’t stale.”
Margaret Waterchief listened with her heart. She listened for the soul of each person … and from those stories she found ways to plead for justice. The Calgary YWCA noted that she was known as an “angel of mercy”.
She told me there were times, when she was in Brocket, when she felt as if she was physically and spiritually depleated. More than once help appeared without asking. A letter would arrive from a lady who lived to the west, in the mountains. In it were words of wisdom and prayers along with a financial offering. Or the Hutterite colony boss’s wife would invite her for supper – then generously load her car with garden and kitchen goodies. Blessings on top of blessings.
One day I took Margaret with me to visit my Grandmother’s ranch home on the Milk River, adjacent to what we now know as “Writing-on-Stone Park”. I didn’t yet know why so few Blackfoot people over the last hundered years had never visited the famed sacred spot (because the Indian Agent wouldn’t allow the Blackfoot people at Pikanii and Kainai to have a 3-day pass). But as I watched Margaret stand high up where she could look over the sacred Valley of the Milk River for the first time, I saw her imagine the vision her people had encountered in this place over thousands of years. Truly a sacred moment for her … and for me!
Visitors joined Margaret and me at the ranch for lunch that day. The young visitors exuberantly told about their early-dawn visit to watch the prairie chickens do their mating dance.
Margaret gently started to chuckle at the reminder. She told us that her husband was one of the Blackfoot “Chicken Dancers”. When they were first married, he and his friends dressed in their regalia and went out to dance with the rising of the sun. But as they got older, the dancers got started a little later after sun-rise … and then still later yet so they could perform their ritual. Did it have something to do with people aging?
For me, Margaret was a friend, a colleague, a mentor and a prayer-partner. Her memory shall be forever embedded in my being. God’s blessing … now and always.
( Margaret Waterchief died at age 88 years after being admitted to hospital with complications due to COVID-19. She was the proud matriarch of 10 children, 29 grandchildren and several great-grandchildren.)
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