Spring Break '06: Sacred Space

Last spring, I tried to describe what it was like to set foot in St. Peter's Basilica and the Sistine Chapel, two awe-inspiring parts of the Catholic heritage. Now, let me try to describe what it was like to encounter a bit of Native American sacred space. First, the inipi (sweat lodge) ceremony. In the Native American way of life, the inipi ceremony is a sacred ritual of purification, intercession, thanksgiving, and communion. Roughly speaking, it is what the Mass is to a Catholic. However, for the Lakota, there are no regulations or suggestions for how often you must take part in this ceremony. It is there whenever you want it. Some sweat on a near-daily basis, some once a week, some once a month, or some hardly at all. In fact, we learned that some of the kids there knew nothing about the ceremony at all. As you can see, the exterior of the sweat lodge is nothing more than a small, earthy structure made out of branches, rugs, and tarps. On the inside, there is a firepit in the middle, with room for maybe 13 people to sit comfortably around the pit. I pulled this picture off the web, but I thought it would help to get an idea of what I'm talking about, even though I think this particular picture was taken in Canada. Ritual preparation for the ceremony takes place long before anyone ever sets foot within the lodge itself. Seven large rocks - representing the four directions, the air above, the ground below, and the fire within - are selected and ceremonially placed on the fire. Then, nearly two dozen more rocks are placed on the fire, all of which are left to bake on the fire for at least two hours. Over the course of the ceremony, ritual dominates the proceedings. All the rocks are brought into the lodge, their initial red glow accentuated in the otherwise total darkness. The ceremony usually lasts about 45 minutes. Lakota songs are sung, prayers are offered, and the sacred chanupa is smoked. The person running the sweat has a large bucket of water at his disposal, and every so often he will throw another ladle-full onto the rocks, sending off blasts of scorching air. That part of it is reminiscent to being in a sauna, but I don't remember any sauna ever being so physically demanding. There's more to be said about the experience, but I feel in me describing it, it loses some of its meaning. We made friends with a man who would sweat nearly every night, so over the course of the week, our group participated in three sweats, including two on single day. My point here has been to try to impart on you the natural simplicity of all the materials involved in the ritual. Fire, rocks, and water provide the backbone of the ceremony. At the end of the week, we drove past a site ("Crow Dog's Paradise") for the sacred sundance, a ritual where once a year in the summer, people gather for four days of dancing, community, and prayer - all without the aid of food and water. Much like any sweat lodge, this site wasn't hardly outwardly impressive or imposing. The land was abandoned and barren, the site marked by splotchy white paint on an old abandoned tire, tattered prayer flags tied to a central tree blew in the wind, and foundations of sweat lodges showed. As if they were protecting the sacredness of the space, two stray dogs came toward our van and barked ferociously. Yet, just like being in the presence of a sweat lodge, a sense of something bigger than yourself radiated. The Lakota would describe this as the presence of sacred spirits. Their sense of sacred space is something totally foreign to anything I have grown up with. Yet in many ways, the way they view sacred worship makes perfect sense.