After a week of preparation, it was time to enter into the place of the wound to which we had been summoned. The Sand Creek Massacre site was our destination. And after an afternoon series of presentations and reflections, it was time to go to where the wound still lies open.
Pilgrimage
II, Day 4 – Entering With a Context
It is the day
before we are to go the Sand Creek Massacre site for our vigil and liturgy. To
ensure that we are able to engage this in its full context, Native American
scholar Sarah Augustine and Episcopal priest Joe Hubbard provide an afternoon
of discussion about the Doctrine of Discovery.
It’s tempting to
see this as a quaint idea one might study in world history, no longer of any
great relevance to our world today. But the Doctrine of Discovery, rooted in
the papal bulls of the European conquest of the two thirds world and adapted
into American jurisprudence through a series of decisions of John Marshall’s
Supreme Court, has taken on various guises over time. From Winthrop’s City on
the Hill to O’Sullivan’s Manifest Destiny to 21st CE notions of “nation
building” of the Bush era and the predatory Washington Consensus of the IMF and
World Bank, all of these paradigms are simply variations on an ongoing theme –
colonization.
In America’s past,
colonization has meant that Native Americans were seen as obstacles to
America’s westward movement. Discovery of gold in the west meant a flood of
“settlers” - the European descendants’ generous self-description (there are
other descriptions beginning with “invaders”) – began to stream across the
western plains. The indigenous residents would be seen as impediments to
“progress,” not the least of which was the construction of the transcontinental
railroad. In the end, the bison, their sacred animals and source of food,
clothing and shelter, would be decimated, plummeting from an estimated 60
million prior to the arrival of European descendants to only 1000 by 1900.
Like the bison,
American Indians would be first “removed,” forced onto “reservations” (reserved
by whom and under what authority? Reserved for whom and for what reasons?) and
later hunted down and slaughtered, much like their sacred bison. This was what my
travelling companion and I had come to learn about, to hear the painful stories
of the descendants of the massacres at Wounded Knee and Sand Creek, to engage
in a rite of repentance, and to take what we would learn back to our own
communities to engage in truth telling, the first stage of dismantling the
Doctrine of Discovery.
That Doctrine plays
out today in the ongoing removal of indigenous peoples from their lands around
the world, a process which inevitably includes extraction of desired natural
resources and contamination of those natural resources which remain - water, air,
soil and biota. With a sense of entitlement it provides its beneficiaries to
act without regard for those impacted by these actions, the Doctrine of
Discovery continues to harm vulnerable peoples around the world and
increasingly poses an existential danger to “this fragile earth, our island
home.” (BCP)
Pilgrimage II, Day 5 – On Repairing the Breach
On Friday morning, we would head out to the site of the Sand
Creek Massacre. Simply encountering the grisly realities of this wanton
slaughter would be difficult enough. Learning how to process what we would
encounter and beginning to consider what we do with these new understandings
was the last part of our preparation.
The term “reparations” is so loaded with political baggage
that it is often difficult to get past initial concerns about money in a
society in which “In God We Trust” appears on its money, the god we
actually trust. Reparation is a derivative of the word repair and the goal that
the Episcopal Church has set is to find ways to repair the breach. That
involves a long process in which any monetary considerations are actually the
final step.
Reparation draws into question the notion that the pain and
suffering of a people can somehow be commodified and compensated for through
payments. In 2011, the Sioux of the Black Hills region were offered a $1.3B
compensation package as a result of a successful lawsuit whose verdict was
ultimately affirmed by the SCOTUS. But they refused a payoff. “The land was
never for sale,” they said. What they sought was much more dear, much more
valuable, and much less easily attainable in a post-conquest world. They wanted
the land to which they belong – and not vice versa – back.
Monetary compensation also allows the inheritors of the
value of that stolen land to assuage their consciences once the check has been
cut. It’s a cheap out, ultimately. It comes nowhere close to dealing with the
suffering that these events entail. Whatever else it might do, it does not
serve to repair the breach.
To do that requires a lot more hard work that Sarah
Augustine says comes in five steps:
First, we must tell the truth about what has happened to
bring us to this point. That requires both truth tellers and those willing to
listen to the truth.
Second, because the result of conquest is always damage to
those invaded, the ongoing damage from that conquest must cease. That includes
the continued shrinkage of tribal lands and the extractions that render them
damaged while leaving the surrounding environment ruined.
Third, there is the need for those who have caused the
systemic harm to take responsibility for it. That includes those of us who are
the beneficiaries of that harm.
Fourth, repair requires dialogue led by those who carry
generational trauma. The goal at this stage is the creation of relationship.
Only then does stage five arise – Asking forgiveness. This
has to be last. And it is the most expensive thing anyone can ask from people
who are the victims of atrocity.
This is not a process that can be accomplished in a short
time. It doesn’t result from a weekend retreat or a Lenten series. Sarah
Augustine, whose numerous works are referenced here, puts it this way: We
don’t need help, we need relatives. We’re in this work together for a whole
lifetime.
Pilgrimage II, Day 5 – Where a Massacre Occurred
The pilgrim to the Sand Creek Massacre site must be
intentional about visiting there. It is not easily accessed, lying at the end
of 8 miles of a washboard dirt road, 23 miles from the closest town. The site
includes only a small shop, bathrooms, picnic facilities and a series of guided
trails.
There is a peacefulness about this place that belies its
bloody history. The overlook to the site by Sand Creek where the Arapaho and
Cheyenne were camped provides a wide view of the area. As one looks out at the
plains, lush with late spring grasses and flowers (and buffalo gnats!), brisk
winds blowing rainclouds into formation, it’s hard to imagine an atrocity ever
occurred here.
In 1864, the attack was led by John Chivington, a Methodist
minister and would-be politician. His regiment had been hastily assembled by
John Evans, Colorado’s territorial governor, also a Methodist layman who had
assisted in the founding of the church’s Northwestern University prior to
coming to Colorado.
In the moral panic that arose in Denver with the killing of
a settler family, Evans exploited their fears by ordering all Coloradans to “go
in pursuit of all hostile Indians [and] kill and destroy all enemies of the
country." (Whose country, one wonders) He would call together an ad
hoc cavalry called the Colorado Volunteers led by Chivington even as he
offered sanctuary to “friendly Indians” at nearby forts, an offer that soon was
revealed as hollow.
When the Arapaho and Cheyenne reported to Ft. Lyon as Evans
had ordered them to do, they found nothing to eat or drink there. In
desperation, the tribes decamped to Sand Creek, a site within the Arapaho and
Cheyenne territory according to the treaty then in effect, to wait for
provisions. The warriors had gone out to find food.
It was at this point that Colonel Chivington ordered 700
cavalry troopers to attack Black Kettle's peaceful encampment, when most of the
men were away. They slaughtered 28 unarmed men and 105 women and children and
wounded many more during the massacre. A few Cheyenne, including Chief Black
Kettle, who had been a main negotiator with the settler authorities, were able
to escape. Many of the survivors were children whose families buried them in
the wet sands along the creek bed, surviving an assault by Chivington’s forces
using cannons to drive the survivors out.
The soldiers would mutilate the bodies of the deceased
Indians, taking grisly “souvenirs” and dragging the mutilated bodies back to
Denver to parade them through the streets to the delight of the citizens
inflamed by the moral panic. Governor Evans would decorate Chivington and his
men for their "valor in subduing the savages." But a later
Congressional hearing would find Chivington guilty of a massacre in large part
due to the testimony of Captain Silas Soule, a Union army officer stationed in
Colorado to prevent Confederate encroachment from the west during the Civil
War.
Soule had refused to let his soldiers participate in the
massacre and testified that the Sand Creek engagement had been nothing less
than a massacre of unarmed people. Evans would be accused of a coverup by the
committee and he was forced to resign as Governor in 1865. Thereafter, both
Evans’ and Chivington's political ambitions were ruined. Soule would be shot dead
in the streets of Denver days after offering his testimony. To this day, some
still see Chivington as a hero. But among the Cheyenne and Arapaho, it is Soule
who is the saint.
Pilgrimage II, Day 5 – The Immeasurable Value of Good Public Servants
Tim Jobe is one of the rangers at the Sand Creek National
Historical Site along with his wife, Terri. While Terri worked the park shop,
Tim provided a very thoughtful discussion of the events at Sand Creek to the
participants in our pilgrimage.
He began by noting that the term “settlers” was somewhat
self-serving on the part of the European descendants moving into the Great
Plains. “There are other terms. Trespassers. Invaders. Colonizers,” he said.
Jobe laid out the events of the massacre beginning with the observation that
John Chivington, who led the assault, “undeniably knew that these people were
unarmed.”
He noted that territorial governor John Evan was a Lincoln
appointee who had been an Indian agent even as he knew little about Native
Americans “and cared even less. He was in a position to create stability but he
[went] out of his way to create bloodshed.” Evan declared that Colorado was at
war and authorized groups to murder Indians at will, a part of Colorado law
until rescinded in 1921.
The deaths of the Hungate family outside of Denver was the
spark that would set off the massacre. Their bodies, allegedly killed by
Indians, were disinterred and put on display in Denver. Evans would say, “The
Indians can expect no mercy.” He did little to dispel rumors that the Indians
to the east were moving toward Denver and said that the city should “brace for
an attack.” Evans would recruit an entirely new regiment whose job it was to
kill Indians. When the Indians made peace offers, Evans rejected them. What was
he to do with this Third Regiment he had recruited?
By this time, John Chivington’s troops were moving on Sand
Creek. He knew they were unarmed. He knew they saw the troops as bringing the
food they so desperately needed, living into their agreement with the US
forces, thus they saw the appearance of soldiers as good news. But Chivington
was bent on attacking them, saying “Damn any man fit to be a soldier who
shows mercy.”
Chief Black Kettle would approach the soldiers under the
white flag below the American flag as he had been told by the framers of the
peace treaty he was claiming. He soon knew he had been betrayed and would run
for the river to escape. He would continue to work for peace only to die four
years later during an attack on his village at Washita River by George Custer.
The looting of the vanquished camp and the mutilating of the
bodies would continue for two days. “Only demons and human monsters could
have done this,” Jobe said.
This place of massacre lay unclaimed for over a century. In
1991, the site was identified by archaeological teams from the National Park
Service, Dept. of the Interior BLM, Colorado Historical Society, and Native
American observers who found significant evidence of the massacre, including
period bullets, camp equipment, and other items confirming the site's accuracy.
Northern Cheyenne Ben Nighthorse Campbell, U.S. Senator from
Colorado, helped usher through bills which created the American Indian Museum
within the Smithsonian Institute in D.C. and established the Sand Creek
National Historic Site. Jobe noted that as such, the Sand Creek site held an
equal status to the national historic site at Independence Hall in Philadelphia.
“Independence Hall reflects America’s greatest ideals – life, liberty, pursuit
of happiness; Sand Creek reflects a moment when America fell incomprehensibly
short of those ideals.” He also noted that the Methodist Church had
acknowledged the role of its own servant, John Chivington, in this atrocity,
has repented of that evil and engaged the long process of repairing the breach.
The Christian tradition could learn much from this example.
We live in a time when public servants are reviled, abused
and cut off from their vocations by partisan politics. But it’s precisely
servants like Tim and Terri Jobe whose dedication makes it possible for us to
know Our story, all of it, warts and all. We are in their debt. And we must
strongly resist any attempts to cut the National Park Service funding. These
are America’s parks. And we Americans badly need those who serve them and us,
perhaps now more than ever.
Pilgrimage II, Day 5 – Elegy for All the Lost Souls
Simon Ortiz is a poet, fiction writer, essayist and
storyteller. He is a member of the Acoma Pueblo people and has taught creative
writing and Native American literature at a number of institutions in the U.S.
and Canada, currently on staff at Arizona State University.
His 1981 book, From Sand Creek, Rising in the Heart Which
is Our America, (Tucson, AZ: University of Arizona Press, 1981) is a
collection of poetry and prose offering a beautiful elegy to those lost at Sand
Creek, the defenseless victims, the souls of their attackers and the ghosts of
those lost which continue to haunt us today. I bought a copy of the book and
offer some excerpts below:
Repression works like shadow, clouding memory and
sometimes even to blind, and when it is on a national scale, it is just not
good….
Buffalo were dark rich clouds moving upon the rolling
hills and plains of America. And then the flashing steel came upon bone and
flesh.
Thunder rolling across the plains is a beautiful,
valorous noise, but the train that became America roars and cries.
Pain and death did not have to be propagated as darkness
and wrong and coldness; they could have listened and listened and learned to
sing in Arapaho.
Who stole the hearts and minds of the humble,
hard-working folk until they, too, became moralistic and self-righteous:
senators, bishops, presidents, missionaries, corporation presidents?
Colonel Chivington was a moral man, believed he was made
in the image of God, and he carried out the orders of his nation’s law; Kit
Carson didn’t mind stealing and killing either.
The blood poured onto the plains, steaming like breath on
winter mornings; the breath rose into the clouds and became the rain and
replenishment.
The land and Black Kettle took them in like lost
children, and by 1876 land allotment and reservations and private property were
established.
Women and men may be broken and scattered, but they
remember and think about the reasons why. They answer their own questions and
always the truth and love will make them decide.
Dreams are so important because they are lifelines and
roadways, and nobody should ever self-righteously demean or misuse them.
You can’t help but be American, not a citizens or a
shadow but a patriot and warrior for land and people even when insignificant
and lost.
There is an honesty and healthy anger which will raze
these walls and it is the rising of our blood and breath which will free our
muscles, minds and spirits.
There is a revolution going on; it is very spiritual and
its manifestation is economic, political and social. Look to the horizon and
listen.
The future will not be made with loss and waste though
the memory will be there; eyes will become kind and deep and the bones of this
nation will mend after the revolution.
I have always loved America; it is something precious in
the memory in blood and cells which insists on story, poetry, song, life,
life…..
[I am indebted to Simon Ortiz for this elegy. The prose
above is a small portion of the total content of his book and each assertion
was accompanied by poetry. I bought my copy at the massacre site but it is
available at Amazon. The painting is by Robert Lindeux, Sand Creek Massacre
(2002)]
Pilgrimage II, Day 5 – A Work of and for the People
The conclusion of our two day pilgrimage to Sand Creek was a
Liturgy of Remembrance. Liturgia is a Greek word meaning alternatively
work of the people and work for the people. In this case, it was the work of
those gathered to express the sorrow of our hearts, to acknowledge the evil
that had occurred there, to remember the dead and the dispersed, and to ask for
strength, courage and guidance in answering the call to be instruments of peace
and healing. It was also a work for the people lost in this day of human
depravity and for the devastating impact on the descendants of the targets of
that depravity.
We convened on the top of the overlook, a small rise from
which the plains below leading down to the river bank were fully visible. In
1864, this was the site of an atrocity.
The liturgy began by remembering “the more than 230
chiefs, elders, women, men and children of the Tsitsistas (Cheyenne) and
Hinono;eiteen (Arapaho) nations who were attacked in their homes and murdered
near here on Nov. 29, 1864. We remember, too, the hundreds who survived and
their many living descendants.
Today we reject both the dehumanizing systems, narratives
and doctrines that led cavalry here, and the greed, arrogance, racism and
violence that drove U.S. citizen-soldiers to kill, steal and destroy here in
the name of Christ and country.
Today, we lament this massacre for the unspeakable
suffering it inflicted on those camped peacefully along Sand creek, for its
reverberations across the Plains and through eight generations to today, and
for its grotesque demonstration of our long, continued failure to prioritize
and sustain safe, interdependent and just communities for all G-d’s image
bearers….”
This opening was followed by the reading of the names of the
“family heads” of those present at Sand Creek to which the assembled
participants responded “We will remember…”
The closing prayer including these words echoing words from
Christian and indigenous traditions:
Good Creator, make your face shine upon them and be
gracious to them, lift up your countenance upon them and give them peace. Great
and Holy Spirit, mark this place on our hearts and in our collective memory.
Compassionate One, who suffers with us and calls us to love our neighbor as
ourselves, lead us toward conciliation as individuals, as members of
congregations, and as a nation of many nations.
The response was simply: May it be so.
Pilgrimage II, Day 5 – Saying Goodbye
With the liturgy finished, it was time to leave. The final
exhortation of our liturgy was the familiar Episcopal dismissal: Let us go
in peace to love and serve the Creator.
I felt a sense of peace as we departed. The anguish of that
place, which I intensely experienced in a vision of the massacre during the
honor song offered to the chiefs who died there, was still present. No single
rite could ever dispel the agony rooted in that place.
But I felt our earnest prayers of repentance, our honoring
of the dead by naming those whose names we knew, and our prayers for strength,
courage and guidance to go from that place to work for the justice that
continues to elude the peoples involved in this massacre had all been accepted
by the dead and by the Creator. That was, as Francis of Assisi had called his
followers, what was ours to do.
Now it was time to go.
Days before, behind the motel where we had stayed in
Alliance, Nebraska, I had picked up some sparkling pink quartz stones to leave
behind at our visits to Wounded Knee and Sand Creek. I had learned that
practice of leaving stones at gravesites and shrines to show one’s respect on
my trips to Israel. When the liturgy had ended, Deidre and I retrieved the
stones from our car, walked back up to the Overlook, said our prayers, and
placed our stones there on one of the large boulders that lined the public space
there overlooking the massacre site.
It was my prayer that we not forget what we had experienced
here at this place of death and sorrow. I prayed that we would be guided on our
path to take these new understandings our pilgrimage had provided us to others
and that we would know where those understandings needed to be shared. I prayed
that our efforts might make a difference in ending this pattern of domination
and dehumanization that continues all these years after the first waves of the
conquest began 600 years ago. Finally, I prayed for peace to those who still
rest here, those who carry the generational trauma from this place, and peace
to our souls, so deeply disturbed in just coming to be present for this story.
On the way back to the car, Deidre noticed a purple flower
alongside the path. I don’t know what it is, but I felt my heart light up when
I saw it. It seemed to embody the hopes that I held in departing from Sand
Creek.
Poet Simon Ortiz describes that hope in his book
From Sand Creek, Rising in this Heart Which is America. In his closing
words, he says, “That dream shall have a name after all, and it will not be
vengeful but wealthy with love and compassion and knowledge. And it will rise
in this heart which is America.” I am not a particularly optimistic person
but I am a hopeful man. These words speak of a hope which is indispensable as I
see it. Without hope, we are bound to despair.
But it was the opening words to his book that spoke to our
departure from Sand Creek and they had been used in the closing of our liturgy.
Ortiz says, “This America has been a burden of steel and mad death, but look
now, there are flowers and new grass and a spring wind rising from Sand Creek.”
Look, indeed.
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Harry Scott Coverston
Orlando, Florida
If the unexamined life is not worth living, surely
an unexamined belief system, be it religious or political, is not worth
holding. Most things worth considering do not come in sound bites.
Those who believe religion and politics aren't connected
don't understand either. – Mahatma Gandhi
For what does G-d require of you but to do justice, and
to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your G-d? - Micah
6:8, Hebrew Scriptures
Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief.
Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly now. You are not obligated to
complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it. - Rabbi Rami
Shapiro, Wisdom of the Jewish Sages (1993)
© Harry Coverston, 2025
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