Gathering Revives Ways of Indians

There is no Bible, no sin, no conversion.

At The Gathering, a nondenominational Native American church that meets each week in Garden Grove, there is no written Word, no right or wrong, no death or need for redemption--just truth, accountability and a belief that all is sacred and connected.

Formally known at the American Indian Church, it was founded with eight members in 1978 by Little Crow, a Garden Grove resident of Dakota and Lakota Indian heritage, and his wife Alice Bryant.

The church, whose members meet at 9:30 a.m. Sundays in the auditorium of Sunnyside Elementary School, remains today the only organized Indian church in Orange County. Services offer a blend of Native American tradition with touches reminiscent of New Age philosophy and an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.

Most members say it is the church’s pastor, Little Crow, who keeps them coming back.

“Here’s a man that says something I’ve been looking for for a long time,” said Costa Mesa resident Leonard Hansen, 85. “He said things I was trying to hear.” For Hansen, The Gathering provides both independence and companionship.

“I don’t have to depend on Jesus forgiving me,” he said. “I have to forgive myself. That gives me freedom. . . . I live alone, but since coming to The Gathering, I’m no longer alone.”

Little Crow, who changed his name in 1987 from Carl Bryant, retired in 1996 after 19 years teaching American Indian Studies at Cal State Long Beach. The 65-year-old said he and his wife founded the church because he felt Native Americans had no spiritual home in Orange County.

“There wasn’t a place for [us],” he said. “We weren’t hard-core Christians. But soon [The Gathering] began to attract everyone.” Today’s membership is about 200, with one-third claiming some Indian heritage. “The rest is a diversity of other human beings made up of everybody and anybody,” Little Crow said.

On a recent Sunday, about 100 people sat on metal folding chairs to listen to Little Crow’s sermon, a message punctuated with hope and self-effacing humor. In keeping with the Indian culture’s tradition of passing on history and learning through storytelling, his talk is sheer spontaneity.

“I just let come what comes,” Little Crow said. “I haven’t had a written sermon in 21 years.”

During this gathering, Little Crow--dressed simply in khakis and a long-sleeved shirt with a brown blanket trimmed in gold about his shoulders--stands before the group. He clutches an eagle feather in both hands and begins his message with the same phrase he always utters: “Good morning! I’m Little Crow, clean and sober,” a reference to his distant history of substance abuse.

During his 20-minute sermon, he reiterates some of The Gathering’s central themes of praying and helping others in need and honoring children, the concept of a Mother/Father creator and of reincarnation.

“You are created with choice,” he says to a nodding crowd. “You have a choice with every breath you take. . . . This is beyond man or woman, Republican or Democrat, sinless or sinner. It’s about humankind.”

There is much ritual in Gathering meetings. Before Little Crow delivers his homily, selected guardians of the church--so designated by their red and blue blankets--purify themselves by bathing their bodies with smoke from sage burning on an altar.

There is also a healing circle about midway through the 90-minute service: Some members pray while others encircle them shaking homemade dogwood rattles. The rest of the congregation then dances clockwise around them to the sound of Native American music booming from a CD player.

Being in the center of that circle “is an amazing experience,” said Jim Crutchfield, 53, of Garden Grove. “It’s an amazing focal point of energy being placed on you.”

“You can be praying for Yugoslavia or just something that’s happening down the street,” said member Troy Hawk-Jensen, 39, of Santa Ana. “It doesn’t matter.”

During the ritual, an associate pastor walks around the circle blessing participants with cedar smoke that billows from an incense can. Later, members share a potluck of watermelon, pasta, cookies and juice.

Many in the congregation see The Gathering as a refuge from the harder discipline of other faiths they learned in youth and abandoned in adulthood.

“It’s a good feeling for someone to tell you you’re not a sinner,” said 60-year-old Mary Miller, remembering the first time she heard Little Crow speak in 1989. Miller--who is half Blackfoot Indian--said she was reared Christian but left after feeling disconnected. “[This] teaches a different way,” she said, “an Indian way of life that’s not Christian.”

The tug many Native Americans feel between Christianity and traditional religious beliefs and customs is an ongoing battle, according to Little Crow. “The introduction of Christianity to our way of life has broken down Indian morals, customs and traditions,” he said.

Native American religious practices had all but vanished until 50 years ago, said Stanley Davis of the National Conference for Community and Justice, a national interfaith organization. But that is changing, and today only about half of Native Americans identify themselves as Christian, he said.

“American Indians have begun mixing their more traditional ways with Christianity or just plain chucking Christianity altogether and going back to their more traditional ways.”

Paul Apodaca, a sociology professor at Chapman University who teaches classes in American Indian culture and has known Little Crow for 20 years, said the church’s founder wants to help Native Americans--and others--reclaim those traditions.

“Little Crow’s church is not intended to evangelize or convert,” he said. “I think Little Crow does this because he recognizes . . . the need for a loud voice reminding everyone there needs to be room for an Indian religion. For some Indians that have walked away from their religion, this can be a call to go home. For other non-Indians,” he said, “this may be a call to make room for this religion.”

Church member Loretta Djalatta, 56, said she was skeptical of the church at first.

“I heard about The Gathering years ago and thought it was a bunch of Indian wannabes,” said the Long Beach resident. But after her first meeting, more than a year ago, she felt comfortable immediately. Other religious leaders weren’t sincere, she said. “It was always [the Bible] that they kept going back to. They didn’t speak from the heart.”