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CATHY WURZER: From Minnesota Public Radio, this is a special report. Rekindling the Spirit-- the Rebirth of American Indian Spirituality. I'm Cathy Wurzer. The US government and Christian churches spent more than 150 years trying to disrupt and destroy American Indian spiritual practices. Now, across America, Indians young and old are returning to traditional ways. They call the traditional life, walking the red road.

Some are turning to the spiritual beliefs of their ancestors to cope with the vast social problems that plague Indian communities. Others are rediscovering their spiritual roots as a way to reclaim a culture that was nearly wiped out. The beliefs are mysterious. To some, even mystical. American Indians who live the traditional way reject attempts to define their beliefs as theology or religion. They prefer to call it a way of life.

Tom Robertson and Dan Gundersen report on Rekindling the Spirit-- the Rebirth of American Indian Spirituality. Tom Robertson begins the story in Northern Minnesota.

TOM ROBERTSON: Bob Shimek's small home is nestled in a stand of jack pines just outside the Leech Lake Indian Reservation. Shimek is a soft spoken man. Sitting at his kitchen table, his black hair pulled back in a ponytail, Shimek lights a small pile of sage leaves and tobacco. It's something he does when he talks about spiritual things.

BOB SHIMEK: I'm going to burn some of that and hope that the spirit helpers that watch over this medicine will forgive us and help us and guide us through this conversation.

TOM ROBERTSON: Bob Shimek believes that tobacco smoke carries his prayers to the great spirit. The sage purifies his body and soul. Shimek fans the burning embers with an eagle feather. He cups the smoke in his hands and pulls it toward his face and body. The ceremony is called smudging. He offers a prayer in Ojibwe and translates.

[SPEAKING OJIBWE]

BOB SHIMEK: Our Highest Father, hear me, because I'm a weak and pitiful person. I was thanking all the spirit helpers. And I was thanking the great spirit.

TOM ROBERTSON: The spirits know Bob shimek as Aniimikiiwanakwad. In English, it means "thundercloud." Shimek got his Indian name as a child in the 1950s. And for a long time, that's as close as he got to the spirituality of his ancestors. Shimek grew up on the White Earth Reservation in Northwestern Minnesota. It was a life far removed from mainstream America.

BOB SHIMEK: When I was a kid, it was a bad thing to be an Indian. It was a difficult time. It was a time of extreme poverty. A lot of confusion, a lot of chaos, a lot of violence.

TOM ROBERTSON: In the '50s, Indian spiritual ceremonies were illegal. They were done in secret. Bob Shimek says few people were invited. His Indian name was rarely spoken. Shimek was introduced to Christianity when he tagged along with neighbors to church. He was baptized Catholic in the second grade. But when he was eight years old, something happened. He was drawn to an old Ojibwe burial ground on the banks of the Otter Tail River. He says it was there the spirits first spoke to him.

BOB SHIMEK: Just as clear as a bell as I was sitting there, this voice from somewhere in those trees close by said, it doesn't have to be this way. It was a kind of a comforting and reassuring voice. It doesn't have to be this way.

TOM ROBERTSON: Bob Shimek heard the same voice again as an angry, troubled 17-year-old. He put it in the back of his mind but never forgot. In his late 20s, Shimek says he was drawn again by the spirits. This time to a sweat lodge near his home. The sweat lodge represents physical and spiritual cleansing. It's one of the more common ceremonial practices of American Indians. Bob Shimek was told the sweat lodge experience would change him. He was skeptical. But then an old man started talking and singing in Ojibwe.

BOB SHIMEK: And that whole lodge just started shaking like this great big hand was this over it, going-- like that. The whole thing was just moving. And I said, oh. This is pretty good. And then pretty soon, there was the sounds of these birds and these animals right in the lodge. And there was birds, you could feel them flying. You could feel the wind from their wings as they were going around in there. And there's all these animal sounds. And at some point in there, I just broke down and I cried like a newborn baby.

TOM ROBERTSON: That was Shimek's formal introduction to Anishinaabe spirituality. Bob Shimek describes the experience as being torn down and rebuilt, being reborn.

BOB SHIMEK: It's basically the foundation from which I run my life. It's real simple. To be Anishinaabe in today's world and to be the best Anishinaabe that I can be in today's world, it's important to keep these things going.

TOM ROBERTSON: In Ojibwe language, Anishinaabe means "original people." Anishinaabe is the name preferred by many Ojibwe Indians.

[MUSIC PLAYING]

Today, kids on the White Earth Reservation don't face the same struggles Bob Shimek did. In schools and homes and forests, they are learning a way of life that was nearly destroyed. A half dozen children are gathered around a table doing homework at the Anishinaabe Cultural Center in Detroit Lakes. These kids are from the nearby White Earth Reservation. Some go to tribal schools, others attend public school.

Kids come to the center every afternoon. They learn Ojibwe language. They participate in ceremonies, and they get help with their homework. An adult mentor reads as the kids work. The story blends science and traditional American Indian spirituality.

SPEAKER 1: The Ojibwe believe that each plant has its own soul. A culture that believes plants have souls would not purposely destroy them. Plants, like all forms, are sacred beings. Each has an important purpose as part of creation.

TOM ROBERTSON: These children are part of a group called Anishinaabe, or the Young Warrior Society.

SPEAKER 1: Many centuries ago the Ojibwe lived on the Atlantic Ocean. Seven spirits came among the people and foretold the future of the tribe. These prophecies are called the Seven Fires.

TOM ROBERTSON: Seven Fires refers to the seven ancient prophets. The first prophet told how Anishinaabe people would migrate to a land where food grows on the water. That's a reference to wild rice. Another prophecy predicted the coming of a light skinned people and an ensuing great struggle. The sixth prophet told how Indian people would suffer as they turned away from traditional beliefs and practices. The seventh prophet told of a rebirth of the Anishinaabe Nation. He predicted a return to traditional ways. Many believe today's children are the seventh fire.

SPEAKER 2: I can't believe that.

SPEAKER 1: What can't you believe about it?

SPEAKER 2: That we're the seventh fire.

SPEAKER 1: We are. How does that make you feel?

SPEAKER 2: Happy. It feels good inside.

SPEAKER 1: Yeah, it does. We are the ones that are taking back our old ways. It's our responsibility to keep this alive, and we're living that today right now, as we learn and read our stories, our legends.

TOM ROBERTSON: Lara Haefner is a fourth grader in Detroit Lakes. She proudly wears a red jacket with an eagle emblem on the back. There's a different color jacket for each of four levels in the Young Warrior Society. Lara has reached the third level. The Young Warriors must follow a code of conduct. They must be respectful. They must abstain from alcohol and drugs. They also must study traditional spirituality and practices.

Lara says following a traditional path is difficult. She says she tries to offer tobacco and pray every day. But sometimes she forgets. And sometimes it's hard to be quiet while elders talk. But she says she has experienced a spiritual presence in her life.

LARA HAEFNER: I feel it when it's a big time and the Creator tells me stuff. His helpers come and talk to me. And it's like having a little angel right by you and talking to you all the time.

TOM ROBERTSON: Lara says some of her public school classmates call her a goody goody, because she's respectful. She often hears disparaging remarks about Indian heritage.

LARA HAEFNER: Sometimes I get treated differently, and it doesn't feel right. But I just say, that's OK with me. And turn the other cheek and just let it pass through me and don't bother to worry about it, because it'll only bring me down.

TOM ROBERTSON: The Young Warrior Society provides a support system and reinforces traditional Anishinaabe values. The kids also learn age old skills like beadwork and drum making.

TOM MASON: Hopefully that's tight enough.

TOM ROBERTSON: Tom Mason is tying wet rawhide over a drumhead.

TOM MASON: It's always hard to judge when you tie a drum if it's too tight.

SPEAKER 3: Do you go for a certain sound, then?

TOM MASON: Yeah, I like the bass-y sound. Like, this sounds good here. When that dries, you won't be so-- it won't be so muffled, but it'll be--

[VOCALIZING]

[DRUMMING]

[RITUALISTIC SINGING]

TOM ROBERTSON: Tom Mason is 32 years old. His long black hair is pulled back in a ponytail. Mason is one of the leaders of the Young Warrior Society. He's also lead singer for a drum groove called Little Redtail. Most of the drummers are teenagers. Today, they're playing an honor song at a high school career day.

Mason says the drum is a way to teach the boys discipline. He says some were flirting with trouble when they were invited to join the drum.

TOM MASON: Some of those boys that sing on that drum, they used to be into this gang kind of lifestyle, wannabe kind of lifestyle. They were wearing the big jerseys and the backwards baseball caps. And they were talking the slang. And when we invited them to sit on that drum, we told them that we can't act like that when we're on this drum. We need to come to this drum as who we are. Anishnaabe people need to leave all that other stuff behind.

Nowadays, out of all those boys, none of them carry that attitude anymore. So that shows me that it's made an impact. Just that drum alone has made that impact on their lives.

[MUSIC PLAYING]

TOM ROBERTSON: American Indian communities suffer high rates of alcoholism, drug abuse, and violence. Some say the social dysfunction is a result of the loss of traditional spirituality. They say the old beliefs provided needed moral guidance, a sense of belonging, and a commitment to community. There are many stories about Indian spirituality changing lives. Michael Dahl turned away from alcohol, drugs, and gangs when he began to learn about Indian spiritual values. Dahl serves as a spiritual mentor to young people on the White Earth Indian Reservation. He says they are searching for a different way of life.

MICHAEL DAHL: Because they've had enough. They want it. They want it. They want to learn. They want to be Anishinaabe. They're tired of being Indians. They're tired of being Chippewas. They want to be Anishinaabe. They want to learn what that's about.

TOM ROBERTSON: Michael Dahl says to be Anishinaabe, or original people, is to be reborn and live as the Creator intended. Years of repression caused many Indian people to lose touch with traditional ways. Worship was illegal for generations of Indians. The federal government banned ceremonies in the late 1800s and early 1900s. In 1882, Commissioner of Indian Affairs Hiram Price wrote a letter expressing US government policy toward Indian religious freedom.

HIRAM PRICE: There is no good reason why an Indian should be permitted to indulge in practices which are alike repugnant to common decency and morality. The preservation of good order on reservations demands of me active measures be taken to discourage, and if possible, put a stop to the demoralizing influence of heathenish rites.

TOM ROBERTSON: The government also called for a careful propaganda to educate public opinion against the Indian religious dance. Violators were punished under regulations called Indian offenses. Food rations were withheld. People were jailed. Children were taken from parents and sent to government boarding schools. Indian spirituality went underground.

The White Earth Reservation was typical. Andy Favorite is tribal historian.

ANDY FAVORITE: In 1875, they banned all drumming, dancing, and singing for anyone 50 years of age and under. What that did is when the old people died, that stuff died with it. So now what we have is bits and pieces. People took and hid in the brush and did ceremonies. Because it was illegal. People were punished. I know elders who have done time in prison for praying with a pipe as late as the 1960s.

The FBI, the BIA, were looking for people practicing pagan. Oh my god, pagan stuff.

TOM ROBERTSON: In some areas, American Indian spiritual ceremonies were illegal until 1978. That's when Congress passed the American Indian Religious Freedom Act. The law has changed, but the fear of religious persecution still haunts some American Indian people. White Earth spiritual leader Michael Dahl remembers how his grandfather was traumatized.

MICHAEL DAHL: That old man used to sit, and he'd tell stories once in a while. Where we grew up seven miles out of town out in the country, he was a lot more relaxed. My auntie, she lived in town. In order for him to talk there, close all the windows, lock them. Close the door, lock it. Pull all the shades. And we'd all have to sit really close, and that old man would still whisper.

Grandpa, why are you whispering? Because I don't want them to hear. I don't want them to come and get you. That's what he would say. Though he was, what, 77 years old when that old man died. And he was still afraid of somebody coming and taking him. Somebody coming and taking his great grandkids. He still believed that.

TOM ROBERTSON: Churches and the federal government worked hand in hand to Christianize and civilize American Indians. Churches were given authority to distribute aid and run reservation social programs. Missionaries work to discredit traditional beliefs. They called Indians savages and pagans. People were punished for performing ceremonies or even wearing traditional clothing. The experience left many Indians deeply embittered.

Josephine Robinson's parents were members of the Grand Medicine Lodge on the Leech Lake Reservation. The lodge was where ceremonies were held in secret. Robinson was interviewed in 1963.

JOSEPHINE ROBINSON: They call us Indians pagans. There never was such a thing as a pagan Indian. We all just believe in the Holy Spirit and the spirit above. We all just believe that. I was taught that from the time I was a little baby. I can't understand why they come here and call us pagans.

TOM ROBERTSON: Many Indians are still suspicious of anything that has to do with the Christian church.

ANDY FAVORITE: Shame-based Christianity was used as a tool to colonize us.

TOM ROBERTSON: White Earth tribal historian Andy Favorite.

ANDY FAVORITE: So the churches were using the government, and the government was using the churches. It was supposedly for our soul. But in reality, the big carrot was the land and the resources.

TOM ROBERTSON: Favorite says many Indians converted to whatever religion was practiced by the Indian agent. Indians were often baptized for practical rather than spiritual reasons.

ANDY FAVORITE: I think it was conversion of the stomach. I want to eat, so I'll get baptized so I can get my issue. I'll get baptized so I can get a house. If you didn't have a baptismal record or a marriage license, that means you didn't get blankets and food and money. That was guaranteed by the treaties.

TOM ROBERTSON: Andy Favorite has no doubt many of the early missionaries were sincere. They clearly felt Indian beliefs were inferior to Western religion.

ANDY FAVORITE: You have to understand, they were doing what they thought was right. You have to get in their head. And they encountered this. People were part naked. And that wasn't OK. And you could have multiple wives. Oh my god. Think of how appalling that must have been to them. It must have been super, super mega cultural clash. And it's been a clash ever since.

TOM ROBERTSON: It's hard to know how much traditional Indian belief has been changed by exposure to Christianity. Indians have no documents detailing the beliefs of their forefathers. The sacred word is passed orally from generation to generation. Some believe the Christian message has slipped into the Indian stories. They worry the original Anishinaabe spirituality has been diluted. Over the years, Christianity and Indian culture blended in some unusual ways.

[MUSIC PLAYING]

The Ojibwe Bible Hour aired on a Cass Lake radio station from the 1950s through the early '70s. The Christian gospel message was presented in Ojibwe language.

[SPEAKING OJIBWE]

Ironically, most Ojibwe today wouldn't understand that gospel message. Few are fluent in their own language. Christianity and Indian culture still mix in many Minnesota tribal communities. The Ojibwe hymn singers are often called on to provide music at American Indian funerals.

[MUSIC PLAYING]

Sometimes a priest and an Indian spiritual leader walk down the aisle together at Indian burial services. But in some communities, families are forced to choose. Some churches encourage Indians to bring their traditions into the church. Other parishes reject all Indian symbols and ceremonies. Indian people are deeply divided over whether the Christian church and traditional beliefs can co-exist.

CATHY WURZER: You're listening to Rekindling the Spirit-- the Rebirth of American Indian Spirituality. A production of Minnesota Public Radio. Dan Gunderson reported on how many American Indians are seeking the spiritual beliefs of their ancestors. That can create tension within churches and families. We'll hear more when our program continues in a moment.

GARY EICHTEN: Rekindling the Spirit coming to you today on our midday program. Good afternoon, I'm Gary Eichten. Just a reminder that we'll be rebroadcasting this program at 9:00 tonight. And of course, it's available on our website as well, minnesotapublicradio.org.

CATHY WURZER: I'm Cathy Wurzer. As we continue with Rekindling the Spirit-- the Rebirth of American Indian Spirituality. Tom Robertson explores how the return to traditional spiritual beliefs has divided some American Indian families.

CHURCH LEADER: Hymn 135. Verses 1 and 2. Please rise.

TOM ROBERTSON: About 2,000 people living on the Red Lake Indian Reservation are baptized Catholics. That's half the population.

[SINGING]

The Red Lake Reservation is located about 30 miles North of Bemidji. Each Sunday, several dozen people attend mass at St. Mary's Catholic Mission. The mission was established at Red Lake in 1858. There's been a Catholic elementary school here for more than 100 years.

Father Bill Merkins is a priest at St. Mary's. He's been here for more than a decade. He says missionaries often forced Christianity upon the people.

BILL MERKINS: I'm amazed that there is not more anger than there is. But I see it at times. And in different persons. I think that if I were an Indian person, I'd be angry. There has been real closemindedness of the church in dealing with Indian tradition and the Indian people in the past in our history.

TOM ROBERTSON: Mirkins says living on the reservation has changed him. He's more open minded about traditional Indian spirituality.

BILL MERKINS: My attitude toward the Indian, the Ojibwe medicine people was quite negative before I came here. I thought that there was a lot of superstition in it. I no longer feel that way. I misunderstood what they were doing and saying.

TOM ROBERTSON: The once rigid Catholic Church began softening in the early 1960s. It's now OK to include cultural symbols and traditions in the worship service. The white walls of St. Mary's mission are adorned with Indian symbols. An Indian prayer circle hangs above the altar. It signifies the circle of life, a prominent concept in American Indian spirituality. Colorful Indian shawls are draped around the statues of Mary and Joseph. The church uses plants that are sacred to traditional Indians.

BILL MERKINS: Sometimes in worship we use the burning of tobacco. Sometimes we use the burning of the sage and sweetgrass and cedar boughs. And we see no clash in these things.

TOM ROBERTSON: The Catholic Church believes it is reaching out to American Indians. But some traditional Red Lake Indians are skeptical. Jody Beaulieu says the church is now stealing symbols it once tried to destroy.

JODY BEAULIEU: At one time, our ways weren't good enough. And the Catholic Church played a big part in denying that. And for them to come around, it's almost like, well, we couldn't civilize you and make you Christians our way, so maybe we better do another number on you and integrate some of your ways now that you're all coming back into it.

TOM ROBERTSON: A growing number of American Indians are exploring their spiritual roots. Some have made a clean break from Christianity. Others are trying to keep a foot in both worlds. Tony Treuer is an Ojibwe language professor at Bemidji State University.

TONY TREUER: I think where you might find different perspectives are people who are really Christian but still want to maintain some connectedness to their Native roots where they'll say, my religion is Christianity. But I'm still Native American and I still practice some of these ancient life ways. Those are things that transcend religious choices, but they're still spiritual things.

TOM ROBERTSON: Acceptance and tolerance are part of Indian culture. But there are rifts among Christians and traditional Native people on Red Lake. Sometimes families are divided by dueling beliefs. Tony Treuer says the split is most visible when someone dies.

TONY TREUER: Occasionally you'll see families so divided that someone commissions someone to send them off in the Indian custom and someone else goes and gets a preacher, and they show up at the same funeral. I've seen that happen before. And usually one or the other says, I can't do that, I'm sorry. You guys have to make a choice. It's the family's choice, and you have to do it together.

PASTOR: My brothers and sisters, we now ask God to give this child new life and abundance through water and the Holy Spirit.

TOM ROBERTSON: Multi-faith families sometimes disagree on how to raise children. On this day at St. Mary's Church in Red Lake, there's a baptism.

PASTOR: Almighty God, you give us grace through sacramental signs which tell us of the wonders of your unseen power.

TOM ROBERTSON: The baptism has caused some tension within the family of two-year-old Jayland Kelly. One grandfather follows the traditional Indian way. The other, Charles Kelly, was raised Catholic.

CHARLES KELLY: I've always respected our traditional ways and brought it together with the Catholic way of life. I've been married with my wife for 18 years. We got married in this very church. We baptized our grandson today, which is a very good thing.

PASTOR: The good Jayland Daniel, I baptize you in the name of the Father--

[SQUEALS]

The name of the Son--

[BABY CRIES]

TOM ROBERTSON: The baptism was difficult for Vince Olsen to watch. He's Jalen's other grandfather. Olsen follows traditional spiritual ways. He says the boy's reaction to the baptismal water was a sign.

VINCE OLSEN: And when they went to put that water on him, he made up his mind. He made that choice. No. He didn't accept that. Our way of life, our way of believing I believe doesn't fit the way what we did today. But I know my grandson. He's going to be able to see and pick as he gets older what he's going to want and what he wants in his life.

[DRUMMING]

TOM ROBERTSON: For those who practice spiritual rituals, the heart of the Red Lake Reservation is the town of Ponemah. Christianity flourished in many reservation communities, but it never gained a large following in Ponemah. The town is isolated from the more populated areas of the reservation. It sits on the shore of Lower Red Lake, surrounded by pine forests.

About a thousand people live here, many in rundown government built homes. Some of the homes have traditional family burial plots right in their front yards. The people here have closely guarded their traditional ways. At the public elementary school, young boys are taught early about the importance of the drum. They proudly and passionately sing ancient songs. This one honors warriors.

[MUSIC PLAYING]

Ponemah means "a little later," or "hereafter." Some say it's the most traditional Indian community in Minnesota and perhaps the country. The people here are clannish. There's less intermarriage with outsiders. Nearly everyone follows traditional spiritual ways. Visitors to Ponemah are greeted by a sign that says "home of the Ojibwe language." but even in Ponemah, the language is fading.

Wesley Cloud grew up in Ponemah and was in the youth drum group. He's now a custodian at the school and teaches drumming to the boys. Cloud guesses maybe one in 10 school kids can speak fluent Ojibwe. That makes it hard to maintain spiritual traditions.

WESLEY CLOUD: Where elders were-- are to greet the Great Spirit in their Ojibwe language. The people that-- they don't understand language, it would probably be difficult for them to make a prayer to the great spirits, because our great spirits are Anishinaabe.

TOM ROBERTSON: Christian churches have tried for years to get a foothold in Ponemah. There is a small Christian church there, but not many people go. Oriana Kingbird is cultural director at Panama Elementary. She says some Christian pastors used trickery to convert Indians.

ORIANA KINGBIRD: Our reverend that was back here in the '70s, he was baptizing all the young kids. You remember that, Wesley? When they were baptizing the kids. And that's not our way. I had to be one of those kids that got loaded on a bus that thought they were going swimming and ended up going being baptized.

TOM ROBERTSON: Learning about spirits begins at an early age. Kids as young as 10 are sent into the woods alone for several days. They fast and pray. Tony Treuer is an Ojibwe language professor at Bemidji State University. He says those on the spiritual quest ask the spirits for a dream to guide them. The dreams can be life changing.

TONY TREUER: And the spirit might gift someone with a medicine. They might gift someone with a song. They might gift someone with the right to give names and give them a whole bunch of Indian names to give to different people. There might be all kinds of different ways a person could be gifted. And sometimes, just one remarkable gift is enough for someone to be seen as a real spiritual leader and to be a real spiritual leader.

TOM ROBERTSON: There are typically only a handful of spiritual leaders within a tribe. Spiritual leaders provide advice and guidance to those who ask. They pray to the Great Spirit on behalf of the community. They perform traditional burial rites. They also run Midewiwin Lodges. Midewiwin is sometimes called the Grand Medicine Society. The initiation ceremony is usually conducted from spring through fall. Hundreds of people go through the ceremony at lodges across the Midwest each year.

Most traditional people go through it sometime in their lives. The initiation signifies committing one's soul to walking a spiritual path. The Midewiwin Lodge in Ponemah sits in a small clearing in the woods. It's about 50 long and made of rough ironwood timbers. The rounded top is left uncovered when the weather is good. A tarp is thrown on when it rains.

People come to the Ponemah Lodge from throughout the Midwest and Canada. They come for healing and instruction. The complex two-day initiation ceremony is conducted in Ojibwe. Leaders use birchbark scrolls to help them recall the ceremony. Ojibwe language Professor Tony Treuer says symbols etched in the bark are used to trigger memories of songs and stories.

TONY TREUER: It's a really elaborate ceremony. A legend that can take anywhere from two to six hours to tell. And if you miss a detail, it's a big no-no. So even for fluent speakers, learning the details of this elaborate ceremony are tough. And so as a result, there's just a small handful of people that can run a Midewiwin ceremony.

TOM ROBERTSON: Grand Medicine Society members believe all parts of creation are equal. All things have a spirit. Humans are only a small part of the circle of life. They believe healing comes through prayer and from medicines the Creator placed in nature. The Midewiwin tradition dates back to long before the arrival of Europeans to North America. It was the fabric that wove communities together.

Midewiwin nearly disappeared when the US government outlawed traditional ceremonies in the late 1800s. But many believe the Creator protected it. Midewiwin is a fundamental part of following traditional ways or walking the red road. A few will go through it at a young age. Many will wait until the spirits visit them. They may be invited through a dream or by a medicine lodge member.

Ojibwe language Professor Tony Treuer has been through the rituals. He says the ceremony is never shared with outsiders.

TONY TREUER: Midewiwin is somewhat more guarded and closed than some other religious customs of the world. There's sort of a ritual death and rebirth that goes on. There's a lot of religious instruction. The giving of legends and songs. But the substance of what is given is not divulged to someone until they actually go through the ceremony. And then they're told, you have to keep coming back here and helping out so that you can learn everything that we just gave to you.

TOM ROBERTSON: Some people return to the lodge every year, seeking spiritual rebirth. Tom Stillday is considered a spiritual leader across the Midwest. He runs the Midewiwin Lodge in Ponemah. Stillday learned to perform the complex ceremonies by paying close attention to his predecessor, the late Red Lake spiritual leader, Dan Raincloud. A recording of Raincloud singing a medicine song to the manitou, or spirits, was made in the 1960s.

DAN RAINCLOUD: I learned this medicine from one old guy here, Leech Lake. When I sing this song, everybody listens to me. All manitou.

[SPEAKING OJIBWE]

TOM ROBERTSON: Even people in Ponemah worry about the loss of language and spiritual tradition. When Tom Stillday was a child, there were perhaps a dozen men who knew how to run the lodge. Today, there are two or three. But Stillday says the spirits will watch over Ponemah. He says he'll make sure the next generation carries on.

TOM STILLDAY: My personal mission is keeping our culture alive. And I'm happy doing that.

[MUSIC PLAYING]

CATHY WURZER: This is Rekindling the Spirit-- the Rebirth of American Indian Spirituality. A production of Minnesota Public Radio. There's more about this story at minnesotapublicradio.org. Our program continues in just a moment.

GARY EICHTEN: And just a reminder, if you have to leave us, we're going to be rebroadcasting this program at 9:00 tonight here on Minnesota Public Radio. And of course, as Cathy mentioned, you can learn more about the subject at minnesotapublicradio.org. And also, of course, will be on our website so you can listen to it at your convenience. minnesotapublicradio.org is our web address. Let's get back to the program.

CATHY WURZER: I'm Cathy Wurzer. You're listening to Rekindling the Spirit-- the Rebirth of American Indian Spirituality. A production of Minnesota Public Radio. As we continue this special report, Dan Gunderson examines how Native ceremonies are the critical link in binding followers and passing on Indian spiritual beliefs.

DAN GUNDERSON: Ceremonies are the most visible part of American Indian spirituality. But there's much more to walking the red road than the occasional ceremony. Indians say their spiritual beliefs influence everything they do, every decision they make. Some sacred objects are central to Indian spirituality. Tobacco is offered each time prayers are sent to the Creator or helper spirits.

The ceremonial pipe is perhaps the most often used and most misunderstood instrument in American Indian spirituality. It's been misrepresented in American culture as the peace pipe, smoked to signify friendship. But for American Indians, the pipe is a tool. It connects them with the power of the spirits. Its smoke carries their prayers to the creator. White Earth pipe carrier Joe Bush says the pipe is symbolically as important to Indians as the cross is to Christians.

[SPEAKING OJIBWE]

Joe Bush offers a prayer at an American Indian event on the campus of Minnesota State University in Moorhead. Joe Bush was given his pipe by an elderly medicine man. He's carried the pipe for more than 20 years.

JOE BUSH: There's a lot of power in that pipe. I just really can't explain what that pipe means to me. Down here in my heart, it means a lot to me.

DAN GUNDERSON: Joe Bush has unquestioning faith that prayers offered with the pipe will be answered by the Creator. He says people are physically and emotionally healed by the power of the pipe. Joe Bush lives in a small two-story home near the White Earth community of Pine Point in Northwestern Minnesota. Pictures of grandchildren and great grandchildren cover the walls, along with traditional spiritual symbols. People knock on his door at any hour of the day or night.

JOE BUSH: You'll offer me tobacco. Can you say a prayer for me? I'm having problems with my family. Having family problems. I'm having a drinking problem. I want to get out of drugs. Can you help me?

DAN GUNDERSON: Joe Bush will climb the stairs to his bedroom and bring down his pipe. He'll smoke and pray with the person who wants help. Then he sends them away confident the Creator is listening.

JOE BUSH: Then I won't see him for a while, and then they'll come back again. Come and shake my hand. You helped me. He helped me a lot. We're back together again. I haven't touched a drop for three weeks now, and that don't bother me. I left the drugs. I left that weed. I left that grass, crack or whatever. That's the power that you get from that pipe.

DAN GUNDERSON: Joe Bush says he will carry the pipe until just before he dies. He says the Creator will let him in a dream who should carry the pipe after his death. He'll teach that person the ceremonies. The power of the pipe will be passed to the next generation. American Indian healers say their role is not something they choose. It's a calling that requires full-time devotion to those in need.

Most American Indian healers keep a low profile. They see themselves as a tool chosen by the spirits. Skip Sandman says he never expected to heal people. Sandman has an office at the Mille Lacs Indian Health Clinic in Central Minnesota. It's an unusual blend of Western and Indian medicine. Skip Sandman calls himself an nananbawewinini, or "one who doctors."

Sandman is also what's known as a bone doctor. The term comes from the hollow bones he uses in ceremony. He says the bones are used to suck disease from patients. Sandman works with the clinic's medical staff, but he has his own room for healing ceremonies. Skip Sandman will do ceremonies for Indian and non-Indian alike. But he doesn't talk much about it. He says healing is a gift he can't teach or even explain.

SKIP SANDMAN: I can teach you about herbs and I can teach you a lot of different things. But what I do in that room over there, I can't teach you. Only it has to come from a different place. You can say the spirit realm, the dreams. God, Creator. It has to come from him. To sit here and say that I fully understand it-- I don't.

DAN GUNDERSON: Sandman says the spirit realm chose him to be a conduit for the healing power of the Creator. Sandman didn't grow up in a traditional Indian home. But he says as a teenager, he began to have recurrent dreams of being chased by old men.

SKIP SANDMAN: It used to scare the heck out of me. Have you ever been in a dream where you're trying to run? The harder you try to run, the slower you go. For years, it was like that until I couldn't run no more. And then all he did was reach out and touch me. He took me back to a dirt road, and I was about eight years old. I was hunting with my brother.

We had shot this little bird, this little chickadee. And I felt so bad for it. I said, I wish I had the power to heal you. Make you better. And at that time that I said that, this wind came up out of the woods.

DAN GUNDERSON: American Indians believe the Creator communicates through the spirits of those who have died. The spirits may be a grandparent or someone who lived hundreds of years ago. Skip Sandman says the spirits educated him through a series of dreams. Every night, he would be taken places. The spirits showed him plants and told how to use them.

Sandman says people began knocking on his door and asking for healing. He knew he had to accept the calling. A couple of years ago, Skip Sandman was asked to bring his practice to the tribal clinic on the Mille Lacs Reservation. When someone comes to Sandman for healing, he doesn't look to medical records. He prays for help from the Creator and the helper spirits who do the Creator's bidding. He says the spirits speak to him directly or through visions.

SKIP SANDMAN: Each individual is different. Sometimes those things will be soft as butterflies, and sometimes they'll be like lightning crackling through the walls. Sometimes they'll show me who's coming, what's wrong with them. But when I start doing my ceremony in the next room here, they show me then. They'll show me things about people's pasts, about themselves. Some of the pains and suffering or the good things that they've done in their lives. They show everything. And sometimes even about what their future may be.

DAN GUNDERSON: Skip Sandman says the spirits will show him or tell him what blend of herbs to prescribe. He says people are healed of physical and mental illness. There are no studies documenting the effectiveness of traditional Indian medicine. Medical staff at Mille Lacs are hoping to do a scientific study. They want to understand the work done by traditional healers. Dr. Fred Ness has 20 years of experience in Indian health. He's a white guy. He's a doctor at the Mille Lacs Clinic. Ness says he can't offer scientific proof, but he has no doubt traditional healing works.

FRED NESS: I'm convinced of the power of some of these things and the beauty of them, too, you know. But it's hard to document the efficacy of them. And gee, I don't understand that. I mean, I can only work around that and try to fit it into something that fits into my models of understanding.

DAN GUNDERSON: Ness believes medical doctors have much to learn from Indian healers. He says Western medicine has largely excluded faith and prayer. Dr. Ness says his experience with American Indian healers changed his perceptions about the role of spirituality in medicine.

FRED NESS: We carry on this rational debate about whether or not it exists, and that's not where it exists at all in the rational. That's not rational stuff. That's otherworldly stuff from dream time. We don't have dream time anymore in our culture.

DAN GUNDERSON: American Indians believe dream time is when the Creator or helper spirits speak and share wisdom with humans. Many people will see a Western doctor before they try traditional healing. Some depend on Anishinaabe medicine alone. Wanda Baxter is an elder on the Red Lake Reservation. Baxter says a Native healer saved her life.

WANDA BAXTER: I had cancer some years ago. But I didn't see the white doctors. I went to the elders. I went to Midewiwin. And I was given medicine to drink for 3 and 1/2 years. I took that. And I was scared, because I was losing my hair. Now I'm OK. And I don't have cancer no more. And there was so many other stories like that that our Native people don't share.

DAN GUNDERSON: Some people are skeptical about such claims. Either way, American Indians suffer higher rates of diabetes and other chronic disorders. And a new federal study shows the Indians in the Upper Midwest are more likely to die of cancer than Indians anywhere else in the country. American Indian healers are universal in their insistence they have no power to perform miracles. But they all agree on the power of prayer and faith.

White Earth spiritual leader Michael Dahl says he never expects miracles. But he believes miraculous things can happen every time he goes into a ceremony. Dahl says one of the greatest manifestations of faith he's seen happened about two years ago. An elderly man was dying of cancer. Dahl says doctors gave the man only a few weeks to live. The man brought him tobacco and asked for a ceremony. Dahl says the man was healed. The cancer, gone.

MICHAEL DAHL: Don't explain it. Don't think about it. Just show gratitude for it. Don't sit there and, how did that happen? Ooh, wow. Oh my goodness. Oh. No. Don't try and explain it. Because when you try to explain it, it loses meaning. That's the Creator's proof right there that he loves us.

[CHANTING]

DAN GUNDERSON: As more American Indians seek their spiritual heritage, many of them disagree over what is traditional. Some insist all ceremonies must be in Ojibwe language. They reject attempts to make ceremonies more accessible by doing them in English. Red Lake historian Jody Beaulieu says the spiritual path has to be walked slowly.

JODY BEAULIEU: Nowadays people are picking up the pipe and elders are questioning where the person may have got the right to do that. Some people are just off into it without any kind of hesitation. They just jump right in. And if you do it that quick and that fast, it seems like you're just jumping on a bandwagon.

DAN GUNDERSON: Others say ceremonies should change to meet the needs of today's American Indians. They argue the spiritual philosophy is more important than ceremony. When Sally Fineday Morrison serves dinner, she sets aside a plate of food for the spirits. It's a traditional Indian way of offering thanks. Fineday Morrison struggled for years to find spiritual balance. She grew up on the Leech Lake Reservation near Bemidji.

Religion was rarely discussed. Her father quietly practiced traditional spirituality. But the Lord's Prayer hung on a living room wall. She says she always felt different, always left out. When her classmates were let out of school for religious classes, she had to stay behind.

SALLY FINEDAY MORRISON: And I used to say, well, can't I go to church? And my mom would say, well, that's not your religion. You know, and I'd be like, well, why don't I have religion? I used to feel bad because the only way that I could participate would to be the person that goes along and holds out the flag so kids can cross the street to go to church. It was funny. And I used to feel that I didn't belong. I didn't have religion in my life.

DAN GUNDERSON: Sally Fineday Morrison says that empty spot remained unfilled as she left the reservation, went to college, and got married. After her marriage failed, she moved back to the reservation. She began exploring Anishinaabe spirituality. It was a struggle at first. She ran into a wall of secrecy. But she was persistent. Eventually, she was invited to ceremonies. She remembers one of the first ceremonies she attended at an established Midewiwin Lodge.

SALLY FINEDAY MORRISON: That was so incredible, that the air in there was electric. I could have cried. It was so beautiful. In fact, just talking about it, I can still feel the way that it felt that night.

DAN GUNDERSON: Sally Fineday Morrison says American Indian spirituality needs to be more accessible. She says Indian people are hungry to fill the spiritual void in their lives. But they don't know where to start.

SALLY FINEDAY MORRISON: They don't feel like they're going to fit. They're not going to understand. Because if you've ever gone to a ceremony, any kind of American Indian ceremony, there's a lot of don'ts. Don't do this, don't do that. And you get people into that, and they're like, gee, you know what? I don't fit here, because everything I do is wrong. Or everything I say is wrong. And I feel like an idiot.

DAN GUNDERSON: Despite the barriers, more people are following the red road. More people are offering tobacco. More are turning to the great spirit. Some spiritual leaders call the resurgence a silent revolution. Indian people are quietly turning to the ways of their ancestors. Tribal elder Frank Dickinson is a believer in the prophecy of the seven fires. It foretold a rebirth of the Anishinaabe people. Dickinson says young people are the hope for a better future.

FRANK DICKINSON: Soon enough it's going to come where we're all going to be joined together again. You ain't going to stop that. Churches, nobody's ever going to stop the people from coming. And maybe we won't see none of that in our time. But the time is going to come because the prophecies that has been told to the red people, it tells that.

DAN GUNDERSON: The spiritual rebirth in Indian country faces many obstacles. Indian communities struggle with chronic poverty. They have enormous social problems. Few people speak their native language. The death of every old man or old woman breaks a link with the past. The dominant culture has pushed Native spirituality into a corner. But traditional Anishinaabe believe in the healing power of the spirits. Tony Treuer says that faith offers the ultimate hope.

TONY TREUER: There are a lot of lost hurting people in the Indian communities today searching for that belonging in gangs, in violence, in alcohol abuse. A lot of people nursing the wounds from some really awful history in all kinds of dysfunction. And I know that the teachings and the healing that comes out of belonging to Midewiwin and participating in other ceremonies really can heal individual people physically and spiritually and can heal communities by rebuilding those spiritual foundations that used to sustain us through so much.

And indeed, if Native people are to survive as distinct Native people, this is the way.

[SINGING IN OJIBWE]

CATHY WURZER: Rekindling the Spirit was reported and produced by Tom Robertson and Dan Gunderson. Edited by Kate Smith. The online editor is Melanie Sommer. I'm Cathy Wurzer. To learn more about this story and see photographs, go to minnesotapublicradio.org. Rekindling the Spirit is a special production of Minnesota Public Radio.