12 The Moon of the Rutting Deer
The Moon of the Rutting Deer
NOVEMBER 5–DECEMBER 3
“God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble.” Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you. Cleanse your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. . . . Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will exalt you.
If you look for merciful love you will find it among the humble ones. Humility is the place where justice resides.
A TIMELESS VIRTUE
The eleventh Lakota virtue is Canteyuke, “generosity.” Here is a description: “‘To have a heart’ is the literal translation of this Lakota word which is a timeless virtue residing in the heart. True generosity has always been encouraged and exemplified in Lakota society while accumulating material possessions was greatly discouraged. As our Earth Mother gives everything, we should in turn do the same. True generosity embodies love and the understanding of impermanence.”
Generosity meaning, “to have a heart.” I like that very much . . . I need that very much. Oh how I need heart today; a heart for the outcast, a heart for the lonely, a heart for the down and out, a heart for the up and in. Lord, increase my heart toward my neighbor . . . my neigh-bor, the person who is near me.
THE HAPPINESS OF HUMILITY
This afternoon I receive a note from Brian, who knows about both my humility project and my keen appreciation for John Woolman: “Your stories about Woolman prompted me to dig back into his Journal. What a remarkable man. This morning I read this: ‘But through the revelation of Jesus Christ, I had seen the happiness of humility, and there was an earnest desire in me to enter deep into it; and at times this desire arose to a degree of fervent supplication, wherein my soul was so environed with heavenly light and consolation that things were made easy to me which had been otherwise.’”
I thought I had scoured through Woolman’s journal writings from top to bottom, but this passage comes to me as if brand new. O how I would love to experience more fully “the happiness of humility.” And O how I wish for my soul to be “environed with heavenly light.”
A NEW HISTORY OF INDIGENOUS POWER
In these journal notes I have tended to focus on Lakota life experiences in the Black Hills and their efforts to retain this region. Of course, there is far more to their story, and an excellent source for learning the larger story is a rather hefty book by Pekka Hämäläinen titled Lakota America: A New History of Indigenous Power.
Hämäläinen seeks to recover “the untold story of the Lakotas from the sixteenth into the twenty-first century and it also recovers the story of the North American interior, the immense swath of land stretching from the Great Lakes to the Rocky Mountains and from the Canadian Shield to the edges of the American South.”
In the mid-seventeenth century the Lakotas had been an obscure tribe of hunters and gatherers centered mainly in the Great Lakes region. Even though they were lacking metal weapons or political clout they began to establish what Hämäläinen describes as
the most improbable expansion in American history. Lakotas left their ancient homelands and reinvented themselves as horse people in the continental grasslands that stretched seemingly forever into the horizon. This was the genesis of what I call Lakota America, an expansive, constantly transmuting Indigenous regime that pulled numerous groups into its orbit. . . . Another century later they were the most powerful Indigenous nation in the Americas, controlling a massive domain stretching across the northern Great Plains into the Rocky Mountains and Canada.
It seems to me that the Lakota found a way to wield power that affirmed their right to protect their culture and land but did not force domination and control on other people groups. Indeed, they seem to have been masters at building their strengths from within, rather than from seizing the resources of other cultures to claim as theirs alone. A history lesson for our day, to be sure.
A PRAYER AT COFFEE TIME
In the middle of the first moon of my little experiment into humility (The Hard Moon) I sought divine guidance for a prayer that might carry me through the entire year. After a few days the prayer that emerged was a simple four-part petition:
Lord Jesus, I invite you to . . .
Purify my heart,
Renew my mind,
Sanctify my imagination, and
Enlarge my soul.
Amen.
Often I pray in this way over a morning cup of coffee. At times I may sense a divine invitation to linger over one particular area . . . heart, mind, imagination, soul. Instruction or guidance may be given, and, perhaps, confession from me. Most of all there is the stillness of a familiar friendship. I seek to keep praying in this way even when my heart seems to wander far from the purity I seek. My little prayer sometimes follows me throughout the day . . . purify . . . renew . . . sanctify . . . enlarge.
I am now twelve moons (eleven months) into this simple experiment in prayer, and one change I am noticing is a gentle shifting in my desires. Some desires are quietly dropping away and others are rising up. For example, ever so slowly I feel myself drawn more deeply into experiencing the life-giving words of Frederick W. Faber:
Only to sit and think of God,
Oh what a joy it is!
To think the thought, to breathe the Name
Earth has no higher bliss.
I am sure I have much more to learn. But I thank God for the quiet shifts in desire I am detecting already. Step by step!
A TENDER HEART AND A HUMBLE MIND
This afternoon I find myself meditating on the relationship between humility and grace. The words of James 4:6 comes to mind, “God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble.” The same words are echoed in 1 Peter 5:5, “God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble.”
In 2 Peter 3:18 we are urged to “grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.” We, it seems, can grow in grace. Then, in 1 Peter 3:8 we are instructed to “have unity of spirit, sympathy, love for one another, a tender heart, and a humble mind.”
So, I think it is safe to say that humility opens the door for receiving grace from God. And, in turn, grace is multiplied to us as we cultivate humility of heart and mind. Grace upon grace.
O Lord, root out the arrogance and pride that seeks to establish residence in me. Instead, instill deep within “a tender heart and a humble mind.” Amen.
THE COMPLETE ANTI-GOD STATE OF MIND
I have not thought deeply enough about pride as the most vicious enemy of humility. Lewis in his famous chapter “The Great Sin” writes, “The essential vice, the utmost evil, is Pride. Unchastity, anger, greed, drunkenness, and all that, are mere fleabites in comparison: it was through Pride that the devil became the devil: Pride leads to every other vice: it is the complete anti-God state of mind.”
O Lord, teach me the horridness, the awfulness of pride. Let this reality sink deep down into my consciousness. Cause my spirit to react instinctively to the very presence of pride and to flee from it. Purify my heart so utterly that no hint of pride is able to reside inside. This I pray in the strong name of Jesus. Amen.
PRIDE SLIPS IN UNAWARES
This morning Nate and I took a hike in the backside of the canyon. We took the Old Homestead loop that normally is an hour and a half hike . . . though nowadays I find the time creeping up toward two hours. Ordinarily, we would hike the loop clockwise, but today we decided to go counterclockwise, which makes staying on the main trail a little trickier.
About half an hour in we came upon a large flock of wild turkeys scratching and pecking among the dense scrub oak. We watched for a time while I counted twenty-nine, maybe thirty turkeys. They paid no attention to us and continued their foraging for food. Ten minutes further on we encountered another flock of what appeared to be an equal number . . . I think, I couldn’t get a good count. These two flocks are by far the largest number of wild turkeys I have ever seen in one place. Astonishing!
We hiked on. Several times we would come to a fork in the trail and Nate would wait for me to nod left or right. Nate has been on this trail before but never in reverse . . . and I have hiked it so many times that I began imagining I could probably hike it with my eyes closed. I felt rather pleased with the thought. This went on until near the end of our hike we came to a final fork in the trail and I said casually, “Right.” Within twenty paces I knew we had taken the wrong trail. Humbled and well chastised, I had us backtrack to the main trail.
Astonishing how quickly and quietly pride slips in unawares.
GLORYING IN UNDESERVED HONORS
I have just happened on a new resource for my thinking about humility: Spiritual Practices of Jesus: Learning Simplicity, Humility and Prayer with Luke’s Earliest Readers by Catherine J. Wright. Right now I am only reading what I can find on the internet so I have yet to read the book. She has three chapters devoted to humility: (1) Humility in the Gospel Narrative, (2) Humility Through First-Century Eyes, and (3) Learning Humility with the Church.
I’m eager to get the whole book . . . but I captured a nice statement on humility through the material I was able to access: “Humility, rooted in an accurate self-assessment, rejects arrogant pride, which is seen in a desire to gain or maintain status, glorying in undeserved honors, and self-praise.”
I am especially taken with the phrase “glorying in undeserved honors.” Oh my, this is where I stand nowadays. People say such nice things . . . some are accurate but others are way over the top. I shudder sometimes at the “undeserved” accolades well-meaning folk send my way. Lord, teach me to discern the “accurate” from the “undeserved” and allow the undeserved to simply slip away. Amen.
I REMEMBER WITH GRATITUDE
In the United States today is Thanksgiving Day, one holiday that is indeed worth remembering . . . minus the mythical embellishments about Indians and pilgrims. So, today I remember with gratitude the lives of Lawrence (“Gunner”) and Helen Payne. Our paths crossed numerous times over the years. The first was before I had even met Gunner and Helen when a dozen of us gathered in retreat at their mountain cabin at Lake Arrowhead to dream and plan a summer mission trip to Kotzebue, Alaska, ostensibly to build the first high school above the Arctic Circle. Gathering at the Payne cabin took me back to my childhood time wintering at a cabin in the Rocky Mountains, and the planning did indeed lead to a trip of a lifetime living and working among the Inupiaq Eskimo people.
Gunner and Helen were almost legendary among Quakers in California, certainly because of their loving and humble service, but also because of a terrible tragedy that occurred in their family. Ruby Ann, their teenage daughter, had gone to babysit the three children of a neighboring farmer. Unexpectedly, William Rupp, the farm handyman, appeared at the back door. He sent the children off on an errand. While they were away, he abused and brutally murdered Ruby Ann and then fled into the nearby hills.
When the murder was discovered a group of men from town gathered to hunt down Rupp, enraged and seeking vengeance. On that horrific day a close friend of Gunner made the astonishing statement that the safest place that William Rupp could have been found that night was not up in the hills of Yorba Linda but with Ruby Ann’s parents, Gunner and Helen Payne.
William Rupp was caught, charged with first-degree murder, and sentenced to die in the gas chamber. For the six years before Rupp’s execution, Gunner was a regular visitor. He extended to William the completely undeserved gift of forgiveness and, in God’s time and in God’s way, led him to a saving relationship with Jesus.
I met Gunner through my warm friendship with his and Helen’s son, Preston. (Sadly, the family suffered even more tragedy—as a young man Preston was in a terrible auto accident, which ever after damaged his speech and mobile abilities.) It was Gunner, a laborer by trade and a father who had suffered so much, who taught me to appreciate the writings of François Fénelon. Whenever we met he would ask enthusiastically, “Richard, have you read Fénelon’s Christian Perfection?” Well, I had tried, after a manner of speaking . . . but I always tried by speed reading it, and one simply does not speed read Fénelon, and so I would give up. But Gunner would stay with me urging me repeatedly to give Fénelon another try. Finally, with great patience, Gunner taught me to read ever so slowly . . . to read with the heart. I will always thank Gunner Payne for that lesson.
I today remember the loving, humble lives of Gunner and Helen Payne.
THE MORE WE LOVE PURELY
Remembering Gunner causes me over morning coffee to open Fénelon’s Christian Perfection. Because of my daily focus on humility these words jump out at me, “All the saints are convinced that sincere humility is the foundation of all virtues. This is because humility is the daughter of pure charity, and humility is nothing else but truth. . . . Jesus Christ said that we must be meek and humble of heart. Meekness is the daughter of humility, as anger is the daughter of pride. Only Jesus Christ can give that true humility of heart which comes from him. . . . He, who does not seek his own interest, but the interest of God alone in time and for eternity, is humble. The more we love purely, the more perfect is our humility.”
My, how Fénelon teaches me . . . if I can be slow enough and patient enough to learn.
DEVASTATION AND DESPAIR
Today is the beginning of Advent in the Christian calendar. This season, which lasts about a month, is designed to help me wait expectantly for the coming of the babe of Bethlehem . . . “born a child and yet a King,” to borrow words from Charles Wesley’s wonderful Advent hymn.
However, I am not ready for the Advent season . . . not yet. My mind is fixated on one month ahead . . . December 29, to be exact. This will be the 130th anniversary of the grisly massacre of Lakota men, women, and children at Wounded Knee, December 29, 1890.
Here is a little of what led up to what Black Elk described as “the butchering at Wounded Knee.” In 1887 Congress passed the Dawes Severalty Act and the Sioux Agreement, which called for the breakup of the Great Sioux Reservation into smaller, more manageable units. As a result the Great Sioux Reservation was carved up into five isolated islands of controllable size. The remaining lands (half of the original reservation) were ceded to white settlers.
Then came the severe winter of 1889–1890, and Lakota families suffered extensive crop failures. Add to this an outbreak of whooping cough and influenza, which spread like wildfire among the people, with a particularly heavy toll falling on the children.
In the midst of all this devastation and despair came a Paiute “holy man and prophet” by the name of Wovoka. He shared with the destitute Lakota a prophetic message of hope, rebirth, and deliverance. His vision promised the resurrection of the Lakota who had died, the return of tatanka, and the restoring of the old indigenous world. This prophetic vision of a restored earth and a better world gripped the Lakota people.
To bring about this prophetic vision of resurrected kin, of restored bison, and of a world without disease, the Lakota began dancing and singing in what has come to be known as “the Ghost Dance.” Some Lakota wore special dresses and shirts which were supposed to protect them against bullets.
Army officers and Indian agents were alarmed at this frenetic activity. At Pine Ridge a new agent wired Washington asking for troops because the “Indians are dancing in the snow & are wild & crazy.” President Benjamin Harrison authorized an armed response, sending six to seven thousand soldiers to Lakota country concerned that, in the words of General Nelson A. Miles, “the most serious Indian war in history was at hand.” An effort to arrest Lakota leader Chief Sitting Bull went terribly wrong. Sitting Bull was shot, first in the back and then in the head, dying in front of his log cabin.
The followers of Sitting Bull sought refuge in the camp of Chief Spotted Elk. Army officers considered Spotted Elk to be Sitting Bull’s successor and a key hostile. Spotted Elk himself was seriously ill with pneumonia and was on his way to Pine Ridge to find a place to rest. General Miles did not allow this and instead ordered Spotted Elk and his followers to be disarmed and detained.
General Miles assigned the Seventh Cavalry under the command of Colonel James W. Forsyth to escort Spotted Elk and his followers to the Wounded Knee Creek. Once at Wounded Knee Colonel Forsyth ordered the Lakota rounded up for the night and had four Hotchkiss cannons placed on a hill overlooking their camp.
The next morning Colonel Forsyth ordered that all weapons be removed from the Lakota. One Lakota man, Yellow Bird, resisted, asking to be paid for his gun. In the ensuing struggle with a military officer the gun went off, killing the officer . . . this was all it took for the Seventh Cavalry to begin firing, and the four cannons sent deadly shells raining down on the camp. Most of the men were killed almost instantly and the women and children took shelter in a ravine behind the camp. Whatever resistance there was ended in minutes, but the killing continued for over half an hour, followed by point-blank executions. Nearly three hundred Lakotas were killed that day at Wounded Knee, over half of them women and children.
General Miles was highly critical of the command of Colonel Forsyth and would later describe Wounded Knee as “the most abominable criminal military blunder and a horrible massacre of women and children.”
Most who know of this horrific event have learned about it from Dee Brown’s fine book, Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee, penned in 1970. It covers the years from 1860 with the Long Walk of the Navajos to 1890 with the massacre at Wounded Knee.
THE NATION’S HOOP IS BROKEN
My most helpful source about Wounded Knee is the 1932 book Black Elk Speaks, for Black Elk was a witness to the horrendous events. In 1890 Black Elk was a young man of twenty-seven and was in the Pine Ridge area at the time. He heard the terrible sound of “wagon guns” (cannons) going off. He describes what happens next:
I saddled up my buckskin and put on my sacred shirt. It was one I had made to be worn by no one but myself. . . . I painted my face all red, and in my hair I put one eagle feather for the One Above. It did not take me long to get ready, for I could still hear the shooting over there. I started out alone on the old road that ran across the hills to Wounded Knee. I had no gun. I carried only the sacred bow of the west that I had seen in my great vision.
Black Elk rode at top speed, and then, “the shooting was getting louder. A horseback from over there came galloping very fast toward us, and he said: ‘Hey-hey-hey! They have murdered them!’ Then he whipped his horse and rode away faster toward Pine Ridge.”
Black Elk rode on to the top of the ridge where he could look down into Wounded Knee; “wagon guns were still going off over there on the little hill, and they were going off again where they hit along the gulch. There was much shooting down yonder, and there were many cries. . . . Cavalrymen were riding along the gulch and shooting into it where the women and children were running away and trying to hide in the gullies and the stunted pines.”
Black Elk himself charged at the soldiers holding his sacred bow out toward them in his right hand. They shot at him and he could hear the bullets zinging past but none hit him. Other soldiers across the gulch began shooting at him too, but he was not hurt.
Black Elk continues,
By now many other Lakotas, who had heard the shooting, were coming up from Pine Ridge. . . . We followed down along the dry gulch, and what we saw was terrible. Dead and wounded women and children and little babies were scattered all along there where they had been trying to run away. The soldiers had followed along the gulch, as they ran, and murdered them in there. Sometimes they were in heaps because they had huddled together, and some were scattered all along. Sometimes bunches of them had been killed and torn to pieces where the wagon guns hit them. I saw a little baby trying to suck its mother, but she was bloody and dead.
As Black Elk concludes his heartbreaking description he adds, “When I saw this I wished that I had died too.”
The massacre at Wounded Knee occurred on a bright winter day. By that evening a howling wind came up followed by a vicious blizzard. The bitter cold froze the bodies into grossly contorted shapes. Black Elk observes, “The snow drifted deep in the crooked gulch, and it was one long grave of butchered women and children and babies, who had never done any harm and were only trying to run away.”
Black Elk concludes,
And so it was all over. I did not know then how much was ended. When I look back now from this high hill of my old age, I can still see the butchered women and children lying heaped and scattered all along the crooked gulch as plain as when I saw them with eyes still young. And I can see that something else died there in the bloody mud, and was buried in the blizzard. A people’s dream died there. It was a beautiful dream.
And I, to whom so great a vision was given in my youth,—you see me now a pitiful old man who has done nothing, for the nation’s hoop is broken and scattered. There is no center any longer and the sacred tree is dead.
For Black Elk the tragedy of Wounded Knee meant the end of a culture and a way of life. This evening, in my feeble efforts to recount this enormous crucible of grief, my heart is saddened beyond the telling.