I was born and raised in the traditional lands of the Crow people, whose autonym is Apsáalooke, also spelled Absaroka. I come from generations of immigrants, who left the lands of their birth for a variety of reasons, including fleeing war, seeking a better life for their children, and following a dream of economic gain. My people were settlers and farmers, ranchers and drifters. Some of them were colonizers, who confiscated the land of indigenous people and participated in the attempted genocide of natives, though we don’t know their stories well. What we do know is that our ancestors were part of the great sweep of people whose coming to this continent nearly resulted in the destruction of indigenous people and their ways.

The indigenous, however, are survivors. Despite military and cultural pressures they endured. The Crow language and Plains Indian Sign Language persist in the face of efforts to wipe them out. Like other plains tribes, they have been forced onto reservations. Some have converted to Christianity. Others remember the Crow Way and the teachings of the Tobacco Society.

We have continued to be somewhat migratory people in our generation, living in multiple states. We raised our children in North Dakota, Idaho, and South Dakota. We lived on the traditional lands of Dakota, Shoshone-Bannock, Shoshone-Paiute, and Lakota people. In each place we have tried to give honor to and learn from those who cared for the land since time immemorial.

Now, our life’s journey has brought us to the place of the Lhaq’temish, the people whose land is called Lummi. Their sovereignty and right to this place was recognized in the treaty of 1855. The treaty has often been violated, but remains the supreme law of the land. As has been true of the indigenous people in the other places we have lived, the Lhaq’temish are generous people who seek to preserve the land and the creatures of the region. They are fishers, hunters, gatherers, and harvesters of the abundance of nature. Their way of life is inextricably linked with the lives of the orca and salmon.

Last night we were honored to participate in the Bellingham Blessing of the Spirit of the Waters Totem Pole Journey. The 3,000-pound totem pole, created by the House of Tears Carvers, is being moved from the Snake River to the Salish Sea aiming to inspire, inform, and engage Pacific Northwest communities through intergenerational voices, ceremony, art and science. The sharing of spirituality, ancestral knowledge, and cross-cultural collaboration is part of a wide movement to remove the Snake River dams to restore the health of the salmon runs. Restoring the salmon is essential to the health of the orcas and the Lhaq’temish people.

The Native leaders have requested the support of religious leaders of many faiths. Our congregation partnered with Unitarian, Mennonite, Lutheran, and Wicca groups for a blessing of the totem.

As we stood in the light rain, the totem rolled up on a trailer. The two giant salmon that form the base were at the back of the trailer and in front of them was the large orca with a baby orca on its nose and a human on its back behind the tall dorsal fin. Carved out of cedar and painted black, white, gray, brown, blue and red, the totem made a commanding presence as speakers addressed the crowd and led us in song and ceremony. Drummers, singers, a flute player and a choir all led us. Prayers from different traditions were offered. We all were invited to lay our hands on the totem, to touch it and feel not only the amazing cedar wood, but the spiritual power of the traditional carvers and the generations of people who have called us to solidarity with those who seek to save the salmon.

The ceremonies were different from those of plains tribes. There was no offering of sage and sweetgrass. The totem was sprinkled with flowers. But there were many similarities. The drum and flute reminded us of Lakota ceremonies. The spirit of inclusion and welcome were evident.

From Bellingham, the totem will travel to Eugene, Astoria, and Portland, Oregon before traveling up the Columbia to Celilo Falls and on to Pendleton on the Umatilla Reservation and on to Lewiston, Idaho in Nez Perce country. In Pocatello, the Shoshone Bannock will bless the totem before it returns to Seattle and Tacoma for additional ceremony.

Blessing, of course, is always a two-way street. Those who officiate at blessings find ourselves to be blessed by that which we bless. Every Christian minister learns this truth by participating in the baptism of children. We are blessed by them more than they are blessed by us. Last night we placed our hands on the totem, but our experience was one of receiving, not giving, blessing.

The more we learn of the science of our current climate crisis, the more difficult it becomes to discover hope. I find myself reading many books describing a very dystopian future. More than a few people have suggested that we are facing the extinction of humans on this planet. At a bare minimum, environmental destruction has already set in place mass migrations that will continue to grow in intensity as people move toward the poles to escape the heat and barrenness in equatorial regions. Desertification is already causing people to leave places where humans have lived for as long as there have been humans on this planet. With migration comes additional cultural pressures, strains on supplies of food and other essentials, shortages of housing, and more.

In the midst of our concern and grief over the losses we have already experienced, there are moments of hope, joy, and connection. Led by the Lhaq’temish last night, we glimpsed the possibility of hope. If people can rediscover our place in this world and turn away from the voices of domination of nature; if the dams can be breached and the salmon restored; if we can listen to and follow the leadership of our indigenous sisters and brothers; perhaps we can rediscover the resilience that has enabled the tribes to survive so much devastation and destruction. In that there is deep hope. I count myself as fortunate to have been there to witness the journey.