CPTnet
May 25, 1999
SOUTH DAKOTA: Pray with your Heart, Confronting a Storm
by Joanne "Jake" Kaufman

A person may learn to respect her own tradition more deeply by learning from
another one. I recently learned this truth regarding prayer during a brush
with a tornado while working with Christian Peacemaker Teams (CPT) on La
Framboise Island in the Missouri River.

The Lakota have set up a tipi camp to protest the transfer (confiscation) of
200,000 acres of their land to the state of South Dakota. The camp and a
sacred fire represent their living treaty rights to the land. Meanwhile,
Congress drags its feet on the camp's demand that it hold oversight hearings
on the bill, which was never discussed in committee. As the Lakota camp
people wait, and CPT watches beside them, there are tests.

Passersby yell things like "You f... Indians, get a job." Police minimize
concerns about a van that drove by and emitted a loud sound and flash like a
backfire -- or a shot. Senator Tom Daschle of South Dakota, who
accomplished the land transfer by slipping the bill into a 40-pound budget
bill last fall, clings to shaky moral and legal grounds by denying the
validity of treaties broken by only one side -- the U.S.

On a daily basis, rain, wind and storms challenge the perseverance of the
campers -- and it was here that the faith of the campers gave me new respect
for the power of prayer and hope in a seemingly uphill struggle for justice.

Late one Sunday afternoon, we heard there were going to be severe
thunderstorms with the possibility of tornadoes. We packed up my clothes
and CPT's literature and books into a friend's car, took down the tent and
weighted it with stones.

I looked around the camp. Clouds hung low and the wind was picking up. A
woman from town came to warn us that a severe thunderstorm was heading for
the island from the south, and to leave. The camp members gathered in a
tipi to pray, sprinkling a bit of tobacco in the fire as a symbol of their
prayers for safety.

I was scared. It was not reasonable to stay but something in me balked at
abandoning my role as an observer to bad weather.

Outside, in the center of the circle of tipis, a large fire was crackling
merrily. One lady said, "This is a test of faith." We gathered around it
quietly, sitting down so as not to attract lightening, as she sang.

The syllables and strong notes of the lady's voice mingled with rain
spattering on the stones in and around the fire. As the wind blew, flipping
the new leaves of cottonwood trees upside down, I sat still. Suddenly
feeling at peace, I knew I was there to learn to trust.

Thunder rolled. The lady said to the people scattered around, "If you're
afraid, go into the sweat lodge." The round shape and stakes in the ground
would be protection and something to hold onto. Not one to tempt fate TOO
far, I went into the dark lodge, sitting beside other camp members. The
wind increased and rain splattered onto the plastic tarp covering the lodge.
One woman wept. We held onto each other, not sure if or when a tornado might
tear off the covering above.

A phrase I've heard often in the camp is, "Think [or pray] with your heart,
not with your head." Feeling the solidity of earth below me, I prayed with
all my heart for a right outcome as the lady outside prayed for the safety
of the camp and for the townspeople of Pierre.

Eventually the wind subsided. We emerged into a dripping world and joined
the rest of the camp in the tipi. The lady who had warned us about the
storm had returned from town and brought strange news. She said that two
storm cells had been converging on Pierre. But when they reached the river,
a lightening bolt flashed and the cells separated.

Rationally, with my head, I don't believe the weather was as bad as we had
been led to believe. With my heart, I believe that it was a test of faith.
The strength of the camp to stay through a possibly lethal storm were tested
-- as they will be tested through the storms and challenges of Congress and
by racist hecklers and law enforcement in the coming months.