I'm in a REALLY good mood today. Things just feel okay today.

Some of you know that I have a lot of turmoil in my life, and despite my efforts to remain dignified and positive it has affected my family nonetheless. But today I feel at peace, no matter what happens. I am reminded that I carry a responsibility to hold respect for all peoples' worth, and that even when people despise or condemn me--my character flaws, my mistakes, my oversights, my foul-ups, my methods--it does not cause me to abandon my commitment to seeing all people as worthy sons and daughters of God. Having critics is evidence that an accomplishment was attempted. In my entire life, I have never rejected or condemned a person for the mistakes of their human character, and it has saddened me to see the effects of condemnation. The fact that there are people who dislike or judge us does not change the fact that we are children of God...nor does it change the fact that they are, too.

Earlier this week, my close friend James (the tribal spiritual leader who has opened his sweatlodge to women who want to attend with me for personal cleansing/prayer), stopped by my house on an impulse. He said he just felt led to come over and say to me, "The Creator has a plan for you and your family. No matter what happens, you are where you need to be, doing what you need to do." He said that he had some light that things would change, and that I would not understand the reasons for it at first, but that he had insight that these changes would not end God's intentions for me. It reminded me of Bill's lyrics: "Dark river, Black skies / Change is coming, Don't cry."

In the late 1880's, a Paiute man named Wovoka had a series of visions that started a new religion among the Plains Indians. Wovoka told the people that God had showed him that through hardship would come new life, and that if the people formed a circle--literally, but also symbolically as a community--and prayed together for peace, the turmoil of this world would burn away and the people would live. Wovoka warned them that this "burning away" would hurt very much, but it would establish a departure from our old mistakes to a new way of ministry and interconnection with life.

This new way of understanding became known as the Ghost Dance. The spooky-sounding name comes from a misunderstanding by Whites on the frontier, who heard Wovoka talking about setting our old lives aside to die, and then seeing new life being born within us. They lacked the understanding that he was talking about transformative struggle, and assumed he was urging some type of cult-like sorcery.

The people who listened became very peaceful, very non-violent. They endured slurs, attacks, and nasty rumors directed at them from outside, but they remained calm and continued to pray and sing. Their peacefulness did not assuage their enemies, though, who saw it as a sign of weakness. This clash of ideas--peace versus hostility--erupted on December 29, 1890, at Wounded Knee, South Dakota. There, about 300 Ghost Dancers were hewn down by machine gun fire and left for dead, the crosses and birds painted on their garments still shining in the snow.

This was the final massacre of the so-called "Indian Wars." The site is now marked by a common trench grave and monument with names engraved on it (my son and I will visit the site in a couple of weeks). To Native people today or every tribe, the site is a shrine; it represents the difficult choice between fighting back and hating your adversaries, or becoming willing to suffer while praying and seeking peace with them, acknowledging them as our brothers and sisters whom we love despite misunderstandings and differences. And although that choice ended in tragedy in 1890, it has inspired thousands of people in the decades since then. To us, it represents the truth that despite our human flaws, our adversaries, and the risks we take to love and attend to others, there is still worth and purpose in continuing to mend wounds, seek good for those who do not seek good for us, and even keep loving...keep loving. The lesson of Wounded Knee is this: Even with the wounds upon you brought by those who condemn what you seek to do, keep loving. Keep seeing them--even your adversaries--as holy people, children of our Creator, and continue the work of tending to the wounds of others even as other add wounds to you.

This is a hard choice.

But I see this work as my own Ghost Dance. Even in the act of praying and loving, there are those on the perimeter with a clear shot. And we are BOTH children of God. And by continuing to love, yearning to uplift, and struggling to support others who are also wounded, and go with them into new life--not as a leader, but as an ally--we all risk hurt, rejection, and condemnation. But we also know in our hearts that we take on these wounds for the RIGHT reasons: because we dared to reach out to others who pray for the same things, and because we refused to fail them. And in this comes our own healing. It is this tribe's Ghost Dance, where even the pain of our work, the pain brought by those who hear what we say and condemn it as misguided and pull it to bits in anger and hurt, still matters.

http://resurrectionafterrape.org/mp3/GhostDance.mp3

I want to go where the blind can see
I want to go where the lame will walk
I want to see the sick ones clean
where the deaf can hear and the silent talk

Where are you going, to a ghostdance in the snow?
Where are all your warriors? I see they're finally
coming home

I wanna go where the dead are raised
Where the mountain lion lays down with the lamb
I wanna stand where God is praised
I wanna ride across the plains
to the promised land

Where I'm going don't need to raise your voice
No starvation, we'll have plenty to eat
no guns, no wars, no hateful noise
just a victory dance, we'll never taste defeat
where there's nothing done or said that can't be forgiven
where every step you take is on sacred ground

walk away from death into the land of the living
where all the lost tribes
are finally found