Black Elk
Oglala Sioux
Topics covered in this document:
Introduction
I would like to express my extreme gratitude to the late Black Elk
(1862-1950) -- or as he was known in his native Lakota tongue, Hehaka
Sapa -- for sharing his wisdom and insight.
Black Elk was an Oglala holy man, following in the tradition of his
fathers ... the fourth generation to carry the name Black Elk.
His Christian name was Nicholas Black Elk.
Sacred Path
Black Elk was, first and foremost, a holy man ... a man of peace.
His aim was only to teach the two-leggeds to walk the sacred path upon
the Earth. It is through his generous gift of the sacred knowledge that
both the Oglala and we non-Oglala alike may enjoy the spirit of his
people's rich heritage.
Recollections of Youth
In his later years, Black Elk recalled his youth ... the freedom of
the plains and of hunting bison (buffalo) ... before the white man took
all of that away from his people. As an adult, he participated in the
historic battles at Little Big Horn and at Wounded Knee Creek.
He was a cousin of the famous chief and holy man, Crazy Horse. He knew Sitting Bull, Red Cloud, and American Horse.
Although he spoke no English, he had traveled with Buffalo Bill to Italy,
France, and England, where he had danced for Queen Victoria (he called
her "Grandmother England").
Sacred Responsibility
Yet even when he was with his friends, Black Elk was a man apart.
In his youth, he had been instructed in the sacred lore of his people
by such great men as Whirlwind Chaser and Black Road. But perhaps his
most honored teacher was the sage Elk Head, Keeper of the Sacred Pipe,
from whom he learned the spiritual heritage of his people.
With this knowledge, Black Elk fasted and prayed at length, until he
became one of the wise men ... receiving many visions and special powers
to be used for the good of his nation.
Thank You
This sacred responsibility weighed heavily on Black Elk all his life.
Even as he lay dying, he feared that he had failed to bring his people to
the "good red road." I cannot speak for his people ... but as for me, he
not only succeeded then ... but he continues to succeed. He continues to
inspire me to ponder just what it means to be a member of the two-legged
people.
Thank you, Black Elk, for helping me to see clearly.
Black Elk's Prayer
The following quote is from the end of the book Black Elk
Speaks, which is one of the recommended books in the Native American bookstore here in the
Village Fox's den. I highly recommend this book to anyone interested
in Native American beliefs.
If you'd rather read it online, see the University of
Nebraska version.
Every time I read Black Elk's prayer, I get a chill up my spine ...
for my heart tells me I am listening to a prayer from a very holy man at
the end of his life. A man who's spirit still speaks to mine across time
and culture.
Standing where he had received his vision, ceremonially dressed and
painted, Black Elk faces the west with the Sacred Pipe in his right hand. Then
in a voice betraying his advanced age, he prays:
"Grandfather, Great Spirit, once more behold me on earth and lean to
hear my feeble voice. You lived first, and you are older than all need,
older than all prayer. All things belong to you -- the two-leggeds, the
four-leggeds, the wings of the air and all green things that live. You
have set the powers of the four quarters to cross each other. The good
road and the road of difficulties you have made to cross; and where they
cross, the place is holy. Day in and day out, forever, you are the life
of things.
"Therefore, I am sending a voice, Great Spirit, my Grandfather,
forgetting nothing you have made, the stars of the universe and the
grasses of the earth.
"You have said to me, when I was still young and could hope, that in
difficulty I should send a voice four times, once for each quarter of
the earth, and you would hear me. Today I send a voice for a people in
despair.
"You have given me a sacred pipe, and through this I should make my
offering. You see it now.
"From the west, you have given me the cup of living water and the
sacred bow, the power to make live and to destroy. You have given me a
sacred wind and the herb from where the white giant lives -- the cleansing
power and the healing. The daybreak star and the pipe, you have given from
the east; and from the south, the nation's sacred hoop and the tree that
was to bloom. To the center of the world you have taken me and showed the
goodness and the beauty and the strangeness of the greening earth, the
only mother -- and there the spirit shapes of things, as they should be,
you have shown to me and I have seen. At the center of this sacred hoop,
you have said that I should make the tree to bloom.
"With tears running, O Great Spirit, Great Spirit, my Grandfather --
with running tears I must say now that the tree has never bloomed. A
pitiful old man, you see me here, and I have fallen away and have done
nothing. Here at the center of the world, where you took me when I was
young, and taught me ... here, old, I stand, and the tree is withered,
Grandfather ... my Grandfather!
"Again, and maybe the last time on this earth, I recall the great
vision you sent me. It may be that some little root of the sacred tree
still lives. Nourish it then, that it may leaf and bloom and fill with
singing birds. Hear me, not for myself, but for my people. I am old.
Hear me that they may once more go back into the sacred hoop and find
the good red road, the shielding tree!"
A scant chill rain begins to fall and there are sounds of distant
thunder. With tears running down his cheeks, the old man raises his
voice to a thin chant:
"In sorrow I am sending a feeble voice, O Six Powers of the World.
Hear me in my sorrow, for I may never call again. O make my people
live!"
For some minutes the old man stands silent, with face uplifted,
weeping in the drizzling rain. In a little while, the sky is
clear again.
What Next?
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Have a pleasant day!
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