Chaseling gave me an example of the religious discourse he conducted with Yolŋu elders. He drew an analogy between one of the sets of ancestral beings of the Dhuwa moiety—the Djan’kawu—and Christian cosmology:

You have your Djan’kawu and we have ours - ours was the God of the Old Testament - yours made mistakes and so did ours. Our God sent Christ to show us what those mistakes were and the Wangarr [Ancestral Beings] sent you the balanda and the balanda [white people] can tell you the whole truth. For example our God of the Old Testament talked of an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth — just like your Djan’kawu encouraged you to take revenge — kill one of twins, although there was plenty of food for everyone. Wangarr sent Jesus to teach you and your children that this is wrong - find a greater sense of independence, as I said you know the  facts  -  go  and  work  them  out. ^[24]

His arguments reflect a liberal Protestant theology that is in its own terms opposed to bigotry, allowing a degree of individual freedom to make decisions on the basis of knowledge and experience.

This interest went beyond what was necessary to convert Yolŋu to Christianity, and had from early on hints of syncretism or perhaps even religious pluralism that have subsequently come to characterise Yolŋu religious practice. In Yulengor Chaseling writes appreciatively about Aboriginal religion, arguing for continuity to be maintained. He argued that in order to win people's confidence there must be an appreciation of their religion as religion permeates all aspects of Aboriginal life, ‘and determines even his methods of food gathering and cooking … the simplest activities are linked to his highest beliefs and noblest aspirations.’ The customs are linked together in a systematic way and cannot be tampered with without endangering the whole structure of life. ‘An effective approach to the nomad can be made only on the basis of religion’. ^[25]

While this certainly reflects Chaseling’s approach at the time he also acknowledged that the passage of time influenced his attitudes. Writing to Ed Ruhe in 1965 about art production during his time at Yirrkala he said: ‘I find this whole subject the more fascinating with the passing of years, much in the same way as I become more interested in the developing philosophy and theology of these people whom I knew so well in the Yirrkala area.’ ^[26]

The syncretic dimension, but also perhaps the retrospective romanticism, comes out clearly in the following passage from Thornell reflecting on a cultural performance he witnessed when he returned to Yirrkala in 1979, 30 years after he had left:

We were at Yirrkala on 6 July when the town celebrated National Aborigines day, and Aborigines of all ages, plus some white onlookers, gathered together in a clearing near the primary school for authentic native dancing to the beat of clap-sticks and the sound of the drone pipe. I was strongly reminded of the nightly singing around the campfire long ago. There isn’t so much ceremonial dancing and singing now, especially among young people. It would be a great pity if it were allowed to die out, for it is a unique form of artistic expression. Among the young people of Yirrkala now there is a different kind of singing. Most nights they gather around a bonfire — to simulate the atmosphere of the tribal campfire — but instead of ceremonial singing and dancing the young people sing hymns learnt on Church gatherings. There is an air of spontaneity about it ... a young man may read a passage from the Bible ... another may give an impromptu sermon. Yet there is nothing over emotional about it. After all spiritual things have been vital to the Aborigines from time beyond thought. The only difference is that these young people have chosen Christianity. I see no reason why Christianity and the traditional cultural songs  and  dances  cannot  exist  together. ^[27]

And indeed had Thornell's visit to the region been more prolonged he would have again heard ‘the singing around the campfire’ and realised that many Yolŋu shared his view on the co-existence of Christianity with Yolŋu religion. Daymbalipu Mununggurr, talking to Ian Dunlop in 1974 expressed the relationship in the following words: ‘This time is a little bit different because there are two ways we see. One is the Christian way, one is our law, the Aboriginal law. These laws do not hate each other. We like to make a good law, leading to peaceful ways’. ^[28]

This dialogue between Yolŋu religion and Christianity set in motion in the first years of missionisation has had a continuing impact over time. We do not have direct evidence of how Yolŋu responded to Chaseling and the role that they took in carrying the syncretic dialogue forward. We do not know what challenges there might have been to the positioning of Djan'kawu as an Old Testament figure. However there are hints in Chaseling's writings:

Several old men were talking together and invited me to join them. One of them said: 'We like those stories of Jesus that you tell us: He is white man's Junkgowa [Djan'kawu]. Our Junkgowa came from the Wangarr and we can see now that, in the same way, Jesus is the Whiteman's Junkgowa. ^[29]

However, the theological discourse that we can imagine occurring from the beginning has remained a strong component of Yolŋu culture. In 1982 Ian Dunlop filmed a fellowship meeting of young Yolŋu sitting talking, playing the guitar and drinking kava. Wuyuwa Mununggurr led the discussion with her husband Djoki Yunupingu.

She began by posing a question: ‘What law does this sacred dilly bag hold, compared with the law of the Bible? What do they both represent, what do you see in these two?’

Djoki continued: ‘They both have equal status, both are sacred they are both telling the same. The Bible tells us sacred stories and the same with the dilly bags, they tell us about the sacred law.’

Wuyuwa: ‘True.’

Chorus of young people: ‘Yes!’

Wuyuwa: ‘When people dance or [the dilly bag] is brought out for other reasons, we only see the outside of the dilly bag, but it carries an "inside" story, it is just the same. Our law that it carries and the stories. The sacred dilly bag carries them just like the Bible.’ ^[30]

In this dialogue people are referring to the elaborately crafted and feather-decorated bags that are used in ceremonies and that often contain objects associated with the sacred life of particular clans. ^[31] These baskets are themselves associated with stories of the clan’s ancestral heritage and are linked to particular people and places. ‘Inside’ refers both to the interior of the dilly bag and the pages inside the Bible and also to the inside level of spiritual knowledge which echoes Christian conceptions of inner truth. The discussion hints at the rich metaphorical nature of Yolŋu religious practice and the multiple possibilities of finding points of connection with Christianity.

The discourse between Yolŋu and Christian missionaries has produced a significant number of syncretic events, some initiated by Yolŋu leaders and theologians others encouraged by the missionaries themselves. The two best known manifestations of this are probably the Elcho Island Memorial of 1957 and the Yirrkala Church Panels of 1962. Both events involved the installation of major icons of Yolŋu religion in a Christian context. The Elcho Island Memorial was erected outside the church at Galiwinku (Elcho Island). It comprised a series of wooden sculptures based on the form of sacred objects belonging to the northern Yolŋu clans. The Yirrkala Church Panels were two masonite panels painted with designs from each of the clans represented at Yirrkala. These were placed on either side of the altar of the new Yirrkala Church. The events were very different ones, but they had in common the assertion that Yolŋu had objects of religious value that were equivalent to the icons of Christianity and that these icons should have a role in the discourse between cultures.

The events that gave rise to the Elcho Island Memorial were led entirely by Yolŋu and had a complex set of motivations. ^[32] In addition to asserting the equivalent value of Yolŋu religious icons and outlining Yolŋu political objectives, the Memorial also implied or enacted a change in Yolŋu religious practice—a bringing out into the open of forms that had previously been restricted, and the sharing of those forms on a wider basis. It was part of the dialogue with Christianity that involved a shift from ‘inside’ to ‘outside’—a modification of elements of Yolŋu religious practice to accommodate changing circumstances. ^[33] The Memorial also had a political dimension; it asserted Yolŋu autonomy and rights, while acknowledging that those rights had to be incorporated in a wider political structure. While most Yirrkala clans refused to participate in the Elcho Island Memorial, partly through concern over the opening out of previously restricted objects, it can nonetheless be seen as contributing to the possibility of the Yirrkala Church Panels. The Yirrkala Panels also required the exhibition of religious art in a public space even if that space was the consecrated space for another ‘local’ religion. ^[34]

The Yirrkala Church Panels were explicitly syncretic and in continuity with the dialogue set in place by Chaseling. According to Edgar Wells, Narritjin Maymuru proposed the idea of the church panels to him, but Wells’ own respect for Aboriginal religion may also have been a factor. He believed that all religions had the capacity to produce mystical insights that could increase understanding. This comes out most clearly in a letter he wrote to his long-term correspondent Ed Ruhe in 1983:

You must know that there are moments of illumination when the mind expands under the force of new horizons … it is the force of such encounters within the spiritual realm … that has kept me within the [Christian] group. It is because I was able to minister to the Aborigines in this special way of causing a stretch … of thought processes … that men such as Djawa and Narritjin could expose little cracks of their own mountain ranges … that made areas of understanding possible. They did not of course have to become Christians to receive this illumination — and this is where some of my companions in missionary activity part company with me. ^[35]

The Church Panels were also a religious expression of a political aim in which both the Yolŋu and the missionaries concerned were united—the recognition of Yolŋu rights in land. The paintings were a response to the mineral explorations and to concerns over the possible granting of a mining lease over the bauxite reserves on the Gove Peninsula. They led directly to the Yirrkala Bark Petition that was sent to the Commonwealth parliament in the following year. Kim Beazley senior saw the panels in the Church, and suggested that this would be an appropriate way to petition parliament using the symbolic medium of Yolŋu religion and law. The Gove Land Rights case can be seen as a logical outcome of the dialogue that occurred. ^[36]