This story originally was published by the Osage News [1] and is used with permission.
PAWHUSKA, Okla.—For some, Wednesday evenings have become something of an oasis.
The Osage Nation [2] Treatment Center hosts a sweat lodge ceremony on Wednesday nights as part of its drug and alcohol recovery program. The religious ceremony uses the steam from heated rocks to cleanse and purify the participants' minds and bodies. For many tribes in the United States, it is a form of church.
"The main thing is, our program is a 12-step program and it's based on spiritual principle," said James McHenry, cultural advocate at the center. "A lot of the clients have lost that. A lot of them don't know God anymore, or know how to pray. ... We show them how to pray and pray for their families, show them how to humble themselves and ask for help."
For four years, without fail, the treatment center has offered, taught, shared and provided to their clients the lessons and teachings of the sweat lodge ceremony. In those four years they have only missed twice; the first to rain and the second to a fire ban.
"When we first started it was just me, James (McHenry) and a few clients," said Sammy Lookout, treatment center staff member. "Slowly, as more clients left, they would come back."
Rick Luttrell is one such client.
Luttrell said he is a recovering alcoholic, who went to the treatment center in 2003. He has been sober ever since his treatment ended. He attends the ceremony in Pawhuska as often as he can, he said.
"I keep coming back because, well, I guess there are a lot of reasons. It's an opportunity for me to pray, it's an opportunity for me to sacrifice a little bit, to be thankful," Luttrell said. "It's also an opportunity for me to be supportive."
Mikel Aaland, author of "Native American Sweat Lodge," cited accounts from early settlers and travelers that tell of their experiences with Native Americans and their use of the sweat ceremony. Some accounts date as far back as 1643.
Aaland cites a lengthy description from renowned mid-1800's artist George Catlin, who lived among the Osage as well as many other Native American tribes and painted scenes from their lifes.
Catlin wrote of the Mandan's sweat lodge in 1845: "Such is the sudatory or vapour bath of the Mandans, and, as I before observed, it is resorted to both as an everyday luxury by those who have the time and energy to indulge in it; and also used by the sick as a remedy for nearly all the diseases which are known amongst them. Fevers are very rare, and in fact almost unknown amongst these people: but in the few cases of fever which have been known, this treatment has been applied, and without the fatal consequences which we would naturally predict. This custom is similar amongst nearly all of these Missouri Indians and amongst the Pawnees, Omahas, and Punchas and other tribes."
When the Osage treatment center was considering holding a sweat ceremony for their clients, McHenry and Lookout went to Osage elders and spiritual advisers, Eddy Red Eagle and Herman "Mongrain" Lookout, who is Sammy Lookout's father. With their blessing they consulted a friend of McHenry's whom he knew through the Native American Church.
"We consulted Donnie Hamilton, who's Tonkawa and Cheyenne," McHenry said. "Sammy and I, and all the clients at the time, sat in at Hamilton's sweat lodge in Pawnee and he explained everything to us about the sweat."
After each sweat the clients provide a meal, which McHenry says, is a "big part of the ceremony."
On a Wednesday night in December, passersby could see a fire burning next to a round canvas lodge and people standing and sitting, speaking to one another in good spirits. Inside the fire were large rocks glowing red with heat. Lookout signaled that they were ready to start.
"We've had as many as 22 people," Lookout said. "We've never turned anyone away."
The participants stripped down to shorts and T-shirts and one by one entered the sweat. Luttrell had the task of watching the fire and transferring the rocks to the inside of the lodge for the ceremony. Looking at the fire he began to roll the rocks out one by one with a pitchfork.
"There are some nights when I don't want to come," Luttrell said. "But, when I do, there are always some things that I needed to hear and then I'm glad I came."