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July 22, 1995, Saturday, FINAL EDITION
SECTION: RELIGION, Pg. 7A
LENGTH: 783 words
HEADLINE: NATIVE AMERICAN TRADITIONALISTS WORRY AS SACRED RITUALS;
BECOME MAINSTREAM
BYLINE: KAREN LINCOLN MICHEL; Dallas Morning News
DATELINE: DALLAS, July 22, 1995, Saturday, FINAL EDITION
A growing interest in American Indian culture is leading more and more non-Indian worshipers to participate in "pipe" and sweat-lodge rituals. It's a trend that deeply concerns many American Indian traditionalists.
Many participants say age-old native customs and representations of tribal rituals provide them insights into God, creation and spirituality. But American Indians say that performing certain rituals without living the culture or understanding the language diminishes the sanctity of these religious rites. They particularly frown on those who lead such rituals without years of training or who take money for such work.
"They're plastic medicine men," said Lakota tribal member James Eagle Bull of Lewisville, Texas, near Dallas. "Anyone who claims to have the right to lead ceremonies but hasn't gone through years of learning under a traditional holy man is a 'plastic.' "
Eagle Bull said he thinks American Indian religious beliefs have become trendy because non-Indians have discovered the spiritual power in the ceremonies.
Tribal spirituality has caught on like wildfire in recent years with the spread of the New Age movement, which, like the American Indians, gives great respect to nature in its philosophy. Herbs and other natural items sacred to American Indians line shelves of health food stores and are sold at festivals and street fairs.
Joseph Bastien, an anthropology professor at the University of Texas at Arlington who has studied ancient religions, says natural healing and shamanism have become a billion-dollar industry in North and South America.
Bastien said this trend also has opened a door to instant medicine men. "People are looking for the old-time traditional healers, but they're few and far between," he said.
They'll settle for anyone claiming to have learned from a medicine man, he said. "What they really want is a quick fix, so they'll turn to anyone who's offering them an instant remedy. And they'll pay good money for it."
Eagle Bull cites examples of people charging from $ 20 to as much as $ 2,000 for a four-day ceremony. It's a price some are willing to pay for a piece of Indian culture, he said.
Although customs vary from tribe to tribe, many have accepted the practice of paying the expenses for a spiritual leader to travel to a ceremony or reimbursing costs of sacred items used in rituals.
Some also provide a gift to the leader if he or she is a full-time practitioner with no steady income. Payment most often comes in gifts, a hot meal and a handshake.
Leonard Crow Dog, a Lakota holy man on the Rosebud Indian Reservation in South Dakota, disagrees with Eagle Bull that it's sacrilegious to charge for services rendered.
Crow Dog said there's nothing wrong with sharing Lakota beliefs with all races because "in the eyes of the Creator, we are all one. The Spirit really doesn't care what color you are, as long as you are concerned with carrying on the sacred way."
Non-Indians have sought spiritual healing from Crow Dog, who came to national attention as a leader in the 1973 takeover at Wounded Knee and who maintains a homestead on the reservation. He said he opens his home to anyone who sincerely wants to experience the Lakota ways.
"Long, long time ago, holy men who performed healing ceremonies were given such things as buffalo robes, teams of horses, tepees and other possessions," Crow Dog said. "In today's money, that could be as much as a quarter of a million dollars. If I doctor you and you give me $ 1,000, that's cheap."
Leroy Rattling Leaf, coordinator of a treaty council for the Rosebud Sioux tribe, said he disapproves of sharing Lakota ceremonies with non-Indians. The more it happens, he said, the more it chips away at the heart of native culture.
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"I think we've lost something because of it," he said. "And we can never get it back."
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Rattling Leaf also criticized Crow Dog for putting a price on spiritual ceremonies, calling it a dangerous practice.
Crow Dog's teachings have reached the Dallas-Fort Worth area through a religious group called "Alpha Millennium." The group holds sweat-lodge ceremonies every other weekend at a camp in Wizard Wells, about 80 miles northwest of Fort Worth.
Crow Dog said he taught the sweat-lodge tradition and sacred pipe ceremonies to Mary Thunder, a woman of Cheyenne ancestry who lives near Austin, Texas.
She, in turn, revealed the teachings to Chira Morgan, a Dallas woman who calls herself "Sweet Medicine" and leads the ceremonies at Wizard Wells.
"Prayer is for every race," said Morgan, a 62-year-old of Cherokee descent. "God just can't be that exclusive. If it's godly, it has to be for all people."
Buffalo News (New York)
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