we shall remain

Have you seen this documentary mini-series from American Experience (on PBS)? If not, you’re really missing it. We didn’t really study Native American history in school – we touched on it, but my indian education is limited to the movies (raise your hand if you loved Last of the Mohicans!). This series is wonderfully filmed and narrated, and the commentary is poignant. I hope it wins an Oscar. It really should.

I’ve come to learn, through watching this series, that the history of the American Indian is really fascinating – rich, tragic, heroic, complex and steadfast. I’ll say it – just like white America did great wrong by keeping and trading black slaves, it did just as horrible, if not worse, things to the native population, too. There was no Emancipation Proclamation for them. We – white America – took and didn’t ask. We committed ethnic cleansing. We showed them a form of tyranny that was never forced upon us. I won’t lie – it makes me a little less patriotic. Reparations wouldn’t even begin to make restitution. There is no easy answer for what was done, and what is still ignored. Just as African sold African into slavery, Cherokee turned upon Cherokee. What is to be said? What is to be done? What is the response, as a 21st century audience? These are the questions I’m asking myself this afternoon. I’m not really coming up with anything.

One thing I found especially moving while watching the “Trail of Tears” episode, was the fact that, as the Cherokee – numbers dwindling by the day due to sickness and starvation – marched thousands of miles west, barefoot over frozen wilderness, and sung Christian hymns (many Cherokee had converted by the 1830s) – hymns sung by the very people who denied them rights to the land the Cherokee had inhabited for generations. The narrator cited the hymn “Guide Me O Thou Great Jehovah”. Imagine this quiet, starving, frozen processional singing these words:

Guide me, O thou great Jehovah, pilgrim through this barren land / I am weak, but thou art mighty; hold me with thy powerful hand. / Bread of heaven, bread of heaven, feed me til I want no more. Feed me til I want no more.

Open now the crystal fountain whence the healing stream doth flow / Let the fire and cloudy pillar lead me all my journey through. / Strong deliverer, strong deliverer, be thou still my strength and shield. Be thou still my strength and shield.

When I tread the verge of Jordan, bid my anxious fears subside / Death of death and hell’s destruction, land me safe of Canaan’s side / Songs of praises, songs of praises, I will ever give to thee; I will ever give to thee.

may it please the court

check out this lovely blog.  i got a kick out of it – you might, too.

of His pure glory poured

Been thinking about hymns lately. I love ‘em. This past week being Holy Week, I’ve had a few going ’round in my head. I thought I’d post a few lyrics here.

Ever heard of the Phos Hilaron? Literally, “Hilarious Light”, it is the oldest recorded Christian hymn. Written originally in Greek, here’s a modern translation:

Hail, gladdening Light, of His pure glory poured
Who is th’immortal Father, heavenly, blest,
Holiest of Holies – Jesu Christ our Lord!

Now we are come to the sun’s hour of rest;
The lights of evening round us shine;
We hymn the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit divine!

Worthiest art Thou at all times to be sung
With undefiled tongue,
Son of our God, giver of life, alone:
Therefore in all the world Thy glories, Lord, they own. Amen.

One of my favorite hymns for Good Friday:

How deep the Father’s love for us, how vast beyond all measure  That he should give His only Son to make a wretch His treasure  How great the pain of searing loss, the Father turns His face away As wounds which mar the Chosen One bring many sons to glory

Behold the man upon a cross, my sin upon His shoulders
Ashamed I hear my mocking voice call out among the scoffers
It was my sin that held Him there until it was accomplished
His dying breath has brought me life – I know that it is finished

I will not boast in anything, no gifts no power no wisdom
But I will boast in Jesus Christ, His death and resurrection
Why should I gain from His reward; I cannot give an answer
But this I know with all my heart; His wounds have paid my ransom

Been humming this little one around the house this week:

Jesus, all for Jesus / All I am and have and ever hope to be / Jesus, all for Jesus / All I am and have and ever hope to be

All of my ambitions, hopes and plans / I surrender these into Your hands / All of my ambitions, hopes and plans / I surrender these into Your hands

For it’s only in Your will that I am free / For it’s only in Your will that I am free.

real american hero

Remind me to tell my daughter about Annie Oakley. I just watched this documentary about her, and am just astounded at not only her sharpshooting and business savvy, but the way she carried herself in the face of childhood abuse, competition, and later, libel. Married for almost 50 years, Annie and her husband, Frank, held nontraditional roles with the utmost respect and undying love for each other. This kind of person is a role model I want my daughter to emulate. These are the heroes I want her to know. This is the kind of American culture I don’t want to see buried in favor of superficial celebrity.