It’s March in Northern Ohio.
The day before yesterday, we flirted with 60 degrees. Yesterday and today, 35 with a wind chill in the 20’s. The weather geeks say that we are currently in meteorological Spring. They might be right. I can look out my front door and see crocus starting to peak up into the sky. The robins are back en-mass. The other birds are also out in their full-throated glory filling the air with songs of hope and optimism. And, of course, the real test for this season, dead skunks along the road. Yep, around here Spring is synonymous with squashed-skunk season.
Right now, the sun is pouring through my office window. The orchid and rubber plant on my desk are loving it! It’s also good for my humor. No, not the funny kind of humor. The other kind. You know, the melancholic kind that is exorcised by sunlight. Not a bad day, so far. It’s still early, though.
I recently read a book by Dr. Randy Woodley, (Cherokee), about Indigenous theology and Western worldviews. It was a good read. One of the things that struck me was how he wrote about the traditions of passing on wisdom and stories in the two different worlds. It was a discussion about oral tradition and the written word. For those who’ve read anything that I’ve shared on this here blog thingy know, Words are a big deal with me. Words are not just powerful. They are Power, itself. Ancient people knew this well. Remember that story in Genesis in the Hebrew Bible? “God said,” and “it was so.” Stories like that create identity, if not actual worlds. Indigenous people all over the world have their own identity stories that help to explain their existence in the world. For some Native Americans, the story of how Turtle Island came to be is one such story. Although, there are different versions of the story depending on which Nation tells it, the gist is that the creatures of the earth had a large part in the creation myth. They had to work in order for their world to become real. Creator said that if they didn’t have a stake in the making of their world, they would not be grateful.
Other stories like the Sky Woman and her children gave meaning and purpose to the earliest people on this continent. These words were powerful in that they gave true identity and purpose to the people. They saw that because of Creator partnering with them, they had a vested interest in the care of the world. The earth and the cosmos around them were also part of Creator’s team to make sure that balance and life could continue. They utilized symbols and ceremony to reflect these living relationships. Wisdom and knowledge of how to live together and in the world was passed from generation to generation. The power of the stories created the living bond that stretched from age to age.
We in the West have diminished the power of words to what may be written on a piece of paper. We call those written words “binding.” That seems to me the exact opposite of the words of power that gave life and identity to all of those generations of Indigenous folks who came before us. We think that our way is the best way. All of those ‘Natives’ were nothing more than stone age hunter-gatherers before we arrived to show them the right way of things. Thank God for Us!
I could stop right there and let that thought sink in. But, I’m afraid that the thought may just bounce off and fall on the floor. We who think that our enlightened Western Way is the only way are guilty of the same arrogance that our forebears were. Our words and our laws make that true. Right? Just ask any lawyer or politician. The Rule of Law reigns supreme!
I said that words are Power. It’s true. Words have the power to bring life. Ask our Indigenous sisters and brothers and they will tell you. Words can also bring death. Our Western ideal is built on words like that. Words that kill are baked into Western culture.
I wonder if we can change that.
I wonder if we even care.
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