The Church: Reasserting Its Interest in the Indians

THE SKYLINE at Pine Ridge, capital of the Pine Ridge reservation, rarely rises above two stories. In most rural towns, the stark, white church steeples would go unnoticed, but in Pine Ridge, they jut proudly into the air, as if straining to assume a rightful place in the Oglala culture.

Since the first encounter between Indian and white men, religion has played an important role in their relationship. The Pilgrims' Thanksgiving feast had religious undertones, although it is unlikely that the Massachusetts Indians understood them.

Spanish missionaries first introduced Christianity to North America, but American clergymen did not take long to adopt the missionary technique. The proselytizing urge, however, also produced an expansionist tendency. After the cavalry "settled" the frontier, Christian ministers followed, converting the red man to the American way of life.

Sometimes churchmen even served on the "peace" commissions which stole land from the Indians. One infamous clergyman, Bishop Henry Whipple, "explained" to the Indians how they could save the Indian nation by selling the Black Hills to the government.

The ministers retain their interest in the red man today. Pine Ridge has as many churches per square feet as Times Square has theaters. The only building in Wounded Knee other than the museum and the trading post, both tourist attractions, is the Sacred Heart Catholic Church. The mass grave which commemorates the Indians massacred in 1890 at the last battle between the cavalry and the Indians, stands behind the church.

Over the past few years, as Indian groups became more and more militant, church officials sought an input into Indian affairs, especially during direct confrontations with Federal agencies.

On February 28, the day after the American Indian Movement seized Wounded Knee, the National Council of Churches (NCC)-an association of the nation's denominations-sent a representative to the occupied area.

James Armstrong, a Methodist bishop, rushed to the reservation. Armstrong asked Rev. John P. Adams, a member of the Methodist church's law and community relations division, to accompany him.

When AIM seized the Bureau of Indian Affairs building in Washington last November, the NCC offered advice to the Federal officials, but took no part in the negotiations. At Wounded Knee, however, Adams was instrumental in reopening talks after the shooting of an FBI agent shut the negotiations down.

The NCC went to Pine Ridge uninvited. Allen Ranck, acting deputy general secretary in the NCC New York office, said last week that the decision to send an emissary to Wounded Knee was made by the NCC board.

"We were having our semi-annual board meeting in Pittsburgh when we heard Wounded Knee had been taken," Ranck said. "We sent a message urging restraint in dealing with the occupiers."

Ranck said that one member of the board, an Indian woman, suggested sending an "observer." "We chose Bishop Armstrong for that role," Ranck explained. "Adams became involved in the negotiations through his own ties with the Justice Department."

The presence of the NCC quickly became a sore point at Pine Ridge. Richard Wilson, Oglala Tribal Council President, grew hostile at the mention of Adams, and ultimately, the Council passed a resolution barring all non-residents from the reservation.

Wilson, who AIM has demanded be replaced, resented the NCC's lack of communication with the Tribal Council. Ranck admitted last week that the NCC's board had not considered asking the Tribal Council's permission to enter the negotiations.

Despite the resolution, Adams stayed on the scene at the behest of Harlington Wood, assistant attorney general in the Justice Department's civil division. Wood, one of the three negotiators who mediated at Wounded Knee, convinced Wilson to allow Adams to remain. But as the occupation dragged on, Wood was replaced, and Wilson obtained a court order to reinforce the resolution.

Although Adams remained close at hand, he no longer took an active part in the negotiations. Adams was not the first clergyman that Wilson forced from the reservation. Rev. Paul Boe, a Lutheran minister, left Pine Ridge during the third week of the occupation after Wilson allegedly threatened him with physical violence. Wilson denied Boe's charges.

Wilson's dislike of the NCC and the Lutheran Church has little to do with theology. AIM has demanded Wilson's ouster, and Wilson thinks the NCC supports the militant group. The Tribal Council president is fighting for his political life, and he does not take a favorable view of Adams's close communications with AIM leaders.

AIM's ties with the church are not merely Wilson's imagination. Different denominations have contributed to AIM since its inception in 1968. One prominent donor, the Lutheran Church, has given $37,000 for various AIM projects over the last four years.

Eugene Crawford, a member of the National Lutheran Indian Board, said last week that the Lutheran Church chose AIM over other Indian groups because "it seemed the most gutty."

"All the AIM projects we funded were urban, except one," Crawford said. "In Denver, we gave AIM money to hire a street counselor to work in the Capitol area. Most of the reservation Indians come to that area, and they need help getting adjusted."