Sermon: Reflections on the Journey to Standing Rock

Transcription

1 September 25, 2016 Reflections On The Journey to Standing Rock Reverend Dennis Reynolds Opening Words by Reverend Peter Morales The construction of the massive Dakota Access pipeline, stretching from North Dakota to Illinois, is a textbook case of marginalizing minority communities in the drive to increase fossil fuel supplies. As people of faith and conscience, committed to protecting the interdependent web of all life and supporting indigenous rights, Unitarian Universalists cannot remain silent as land held sacred by our Native American siblings is threatened. We join other faith groups and native tribes to support the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe as they oppose the construction of this dangerous pipeline. I am proud to see that Unitarian Universalists in the region are already joining the protests. But I know that more is urgently needed. I urge you to join the effort to bear public witness to the injustice in North Dakota and add your voice to oppose the Dakota Access Pipeline. Hymn # 170 We Are A Gentle Angry People Sermon: Reflections on the Journey to Standing Rock My mentor minister, Reverend Caroline Colbert, was there the first time that the singer songwriter Holy Near performed that song we just sang. It was at a rally in San Francisco after the shooting death of Harvey Milk, a gay activist and San Francisco s first openly gay city councilor. As Caroline tells the story, the crowd gathered at city hall was growing increasing angry and volatile, and there was a scent of violence in the air. Then Holy took the stage and began to sing the song. She sang: We are a gentle angry people We are a justice seeking people We are a land of many colors and we are singing, singing for our lives. Caroline said that it was amazing, and the song became a kind of

2 shared prayer. This past week, I traveled to North Dakota to stand in solidarity with the people of the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe and thousands more, a gathering of gentle, angry people, justice-seeking people, people of many colors. And they were singing, singing for their lives It was truly amazing, and it was a kind of prayer. The first amazing part of my journey was the fact that I actually packed up and went. Indeed the Reverend Peter Morales, President of the Unitarian Universalist Association, had urged us to join the effort to oppose the Dakota Access Pipeline, but Peter often asks us to do things. Then my colleague Rev. Florence Caplow, the junior minister at Quimper Fellowship in Port Townsend, put out a call to District ministers asking if there were colleagues who would join her on a journey of solidarity and public witness to the land of the Sioux. Just a few days earlier, I had followed a Facebook link to a video of the arrival of the Lummi and other native tribes at that same gathering that was very inspirational. Our tribal neighbors had packed up their large, ocean-going canoes and headed out across the continent to then launch them in Missouri River in order to arrive by boat to pledge solidarity with their distant Plains Indian cousins. That was pretty amazing. And here was a colleague asking me to do a scaled down railway version of such a journey. I pondered, Hmm? It would no doubt be an amazing experience. Though it is not well reported on mainstream media, something very special has been happening there on the plains of North Dakota.

3 I shared the notion with Suzanne, and her first thought was that maybe she could go too. The dedicated actions of the Sioux and their growing list of allies had, at that point, inspired her even more than it had me. She quickly realized that given her upcoming work schedule, it was not an option. I checked my calendar, and it was mostly open. There are certainly some tangible benefits to being a half-time minister and, chief among them, is open spaces in my calendar. So, I pondered the possibility. I made mental lists of the pros and cons. The list of cons was the longest. There were: work commitments; the appointments and meetings I would miss; the monthly minister s report due to the Board; planning for future Sunday services; visiting members of the congregation; reaching out to recent visitors and more. I added a bunch of home tasks to the list too. There was also the expense and the uncomfortable long train ride. Perhaps most significant, though, was my own anxiety about how I might behave in potentially awkward cross-cultural interactions. I found lots of reasons to stay in the comfort of my own home and in the comfort zone of my everyday routines. The list of reasons to go was much shorter, but I soon realized that things on the do it list carried far more weight than the reasons not to go. There was Peter s call and Florence s invitation and increasingly I felt myself being pulled by something ineffable and deeply compelling. This was not just about politics; it was something much deeper. This was not a protest, but rather, as its organizers repeatedly affirm, an opportunity to join with protectors, protectors of the waters, protectors of the land, and protectors of an ancient living ethos that affirms that values other than financial should be primary. I ed Florence that I was leaning towards joining her, but I

4 needed to sleep on it and see if, perhaps, my dreams might influence my decision whether or not to go. When I awoke the next morning, I remembered small snatches of a dream about opening many little doors seeking an unknown something. It seemed my subconscious was undecided too. So I reviewed my mental lists and settled on yes. What tipped the scale, called to me most deeply, is the reality that I cannot, in good conscience, stand in this congregation s pulpit week after week and ask you to stretch yourselves in our shared calling to affirm our beliefs, if I am not prepared to walk my talk, to do more than just offer interesting sermons. I need to practice what I preach. I went to North Dakota because I simple could not, not go. So, I texted Suzanne that I had come to a yes, then put in a call to Florence and to Sarah Richards, your congregational President and my immediate supervisor, and began to share my intention with people I met with at church that morning. I deeply appreciate that Sarah and that first wave of members with whom I shared my plan were so very supportive. One of you promptly handed me a fifty dollar bill to help cover the costs. Our group, which Florence dubbed Team Standing Rock, soon grew to six. It included us two ministers, three members of the Quimper congregation, and one woman in Port Townsend who heard about the trip and asked to join us. Two days after I said yes, we were on the train to North Dakota. On the long train trip, our team got to know each other and took in some breath-taking scenery. We arrived late at night in Minot, North Dakota, picked up our 4-wheel drive rental car, and settled in for the night in a local motel. The next morning, we made our way north to Bismarck. There, we

5 headed to the local Bismarck Mandan UU Fellowship and Church yes, they use both of those names. We met the Minister, the Board President, the Administrator and her baby, and several other active members who were all thrilled to see us. It seems that this small congregation, no larger than ours, had been offering support to the protectors at Standing Rock since spring, and they had often felt very alone. They are 200 miles away from the nearest UU congregation, and Bismarck is far from a liberal community. Many of their neighbors had not appreciated these dang liberals public support for the tribes. Our UU relations appreciated seeing our friendly and supportive faces. We got some tips from them, picked up a few more supplies, and headed towards the encampments. We had to take a detour from the main highway as a National Guard roadblock had closed the road. We came back towards the encampment from the south and thus first passed the junction to Sacred Stone Camp, the place where this vigil had begun. Because of heavy rains the two days before, the road was barely passable, so we continued on to the main camp as our UU friends had advised. Just a couple of miles down the highway, we came around a corner, and there it was. There, spreading out across the river bottom, were scores of teepees, hundreds of tents, and thousands of people all gathered together as protectors protectors of the waters. This main camp is called Oceti Sakowin which is the name given to the council of all the Sioux nations. These seven separate tribes have not come together as one since the Battle of the Little big Horn in 1860s, and we all recall how that played out for the US Calvary. These often argumentative tribes are together now, and they, along with many more, affirm the rallying cry of this movement, mini winconi water is life. I recall how just a few weeks ago here in this sanctuary, we had during our water communion affirmed that water is sacred.

6 From our first entrance into the camp, we realized there was sacred work being done here, for as we passed through the entrance gate and were welcomed by security, others circled our car swinging gallon cans filled with smoking sage, smudging us as we entered. Such smudging is, in earth-based traditions, a ritual cleansing and part of entering into sacred space and sacred time. We were invited to camp wherever we found space, so I drove down the least muddy hill and we found a place in a meadow to pitch our tents. Within minutes of our arriving, two people on horseback rode up to welcome us to camp. They introduced themselves. Frank was from the local tribe and part of the security team, and Dee Dee from Minnesota was a nurse and part of the medical team. She told us how, in spite of concerns from some in her family, she had come to stand in solidarity with her people. Soon others came by to offer additional words of welcome. After pitching our tents, we headed up the hill to where the central circle and the tents housing donations, the kitchen, and the medical clinic, and the refrigerated storage truck were located. In the middle was a central fire that was kept burning day and night and additional fires with huge pots of ever-present coffee. Off to one side was a shelter that housed a circle of chairs gathered around a huge bass drum. We would later spend hours with the sound of that drum and the singers who gathered around it filling our ears with amazing music that resonated deeply within. We grabbed some plates and were soon enjoying a late lunch of macaroni and cheese and a garbanzo beans salad. This was the first of many meals we shared with the gathered multitudes. After watching the literally thousands who were fed there three times each day, I gained deeper appreciation of the story, from the Christian

7 Bible, about feeding thousand with just a few loaves and fishes. The whole camp is dominated by a double line of flags down both sides of the muddy central boulevard. These are the flags of the now 300 tribes and Indian nations who have come here and pledged their support. Some have called this the United Nations of Indigenous People. Around the central fire, we heard presentations from representatives of communities in Venezuela and the northern-most regions of Canada. We heard wisdom from the elders of many tribes and many prayers; prayers of gratitude and appreciation for the presence of all who had gathered there. Conversation filled many of the hours that followed. Where are you from? was a common opening line. Our traveling a great distance was not unique. In walking around the vast campsite, I saw license plates from ranging Florida to California, Vermont to Wisconsin, along with many from Montana and the Dakotas. Everywhere we went, we felt deeply welcomed. I was struck by some of the facets of tribal culture that shaped each day. There was the way all, especially the young, were expected to pitch in when there was work to be done and the deeply respectful way the elders were honored. One evening, when the line for dinner stretched for many yards and I was well back in the line, a young native women came to me and reminded me that elders were to go to the front of the line. I asked, When does one become an elder. She smiled and replied, You are an elder. So I went to the front of the line. With thousands being fed at some of the meals, this was a much appreciated honor. While we were there, the Hopis, who are known among all the tribes

8 as deeply spiritual people, arrived. They proceeded into the camp, dressed in full regalia, their arms filled with gifts. And they danced, sharing dances whites are seldom invited to see. When a line was formed to welcome them with a traditional soft handshake from each individual, we joined the line. One member of our group asked, Is this appropriate for us as white people to be here in this way. A tall native man standing behind us answered, Here there are no tribes, no races. We are in this together. On Sunday, we drove into Bismarck to go to church with our UU community. After church and our traditional coffee hour conversations, we caravanned with them back to Oceti Sakowin. There, we stepped before the assembly and offered a letter of support to the Standing Rock tribe and their allies that had been signed by 120 UU clergy. People lined up to shake our hands and to offer gratitude for our coming and for our support. I am filled with deep gratitude for all I was given. We were fed in so many ways. We were offered deep wisdom. An old Lakota man who said, I am nobody. I am just a man, but there were two hundred pipe carriers [important personages in Sioux culture] here on the day of the court decision. One mind, one heart, one prayer, he said. This is prayer that is spreading all over the world. What you are praying for is spreading all over, all races all people. From the brother of Arvol Looking Horse, keeper of the White Buffalo calf pipe, a deeply significant religious icon, said, We as native people see mother earth, and she is suffering. If the prophecies go through the earth is done.

9 The prophesies he speaks of are ancient Dakota stories of how, if the great black snake crosses their land, the earth as we know it will begin to fall apart. The North Dakota Access pipeline is seen as the embodiment of that great black snake. Such cataclysmic prophesies are not too far removed from what science tells us will occur if we do not begin to keep fossil fuels in the ground. One elderly grandmother, the granddaughter of one of the famous chiefs, we were not sure which one, spoke of the prayers she had offered to the creator for strength, and how the strength of the young and the strength of many had come. I was honored last week to gather with people of faith, deep faith; faith in the power of community; people who know that we can, and we must, set aside petty differences to seek the common good; People who have never forgotten the fundamental truth that what we do to the web, we do to ourselves. The ancient wisdom of our interconnectedness with all life has come late to Western thought, yet science now affirms in many ways, this ancient truth. That last night, as we drove through the darkness heading towards Minot on the first leg of our journey home, we saw in the distance red lights shining in the sky. We wondered what they might be. Radio or cell towers perhaps? But, there were so many, perhaps they were warning lights for an airfield, but there is none nearby. Finally we got close enough to see that they were lights attached to scores of wind turbines; great wings turning in the sky creating power, generating energy that requires no black snake, no fossil fuels. What we are praying for is truly spreading all over the earth. May we help to make it so. All races are in this together.

10 * Hymn #1073 The Earth is Our Mother Benediction By Rev William Schulz We affirm that every one of us is held in creations hand A part of the interdependent web- And hence strangers need not be enemies That no one is saved until we are all saved Until all means the whole of creation. Shalom, Salam, Amen, and Blessed Be