Fanny Crosby and Slim Buttes

It's that season again when, out back, whacking weeds almost daily, I'm accosted by Sunday School songs seeping into my consciousness from some deep corner of my memory, ne'er forgotten ditties we sang every morning of those eight years I spent in the little Christian school a block from home.

They sneak out in all shapes and sizes, often in full regalia--"Give me oil in my lamp," "The Ninety and Nine." "Dare to be a Daniel." I don't conjure any of them. They're just there. Some old tune ambles along, unbidden as dreams, full of rhyme. I'm not transported to some long-gone grade school classroom. There are no visuals, really. For no odd reason, suddenly I'm singing something ancient.

Last week's featured selection came from post-WWII era--"Onward Christian Soldiers" or "Stand Up for Jesus," old faves that Sunday School kids like me adored, kids whose dads were just home from war. This morning's has an ungainly title--"Conquering Now and Still to Conquer." It's all about combat troops and advancing battle lines. (Feel free to sing along.)

Conquering now and still to conquer,
Rideth a King in His might;
Leading the host of all the faithful
Into the midst of the fight;

The idea that the Christian life is a fight isn't old hat, but most Sunday School teachers today wouldn't choose that old hymn right about now--Lord knows we've already got too many guns.

Anyway, that old hymn emerged from some primal ooze in my memory, an old Fanny Crosby tune, whose flighty arpeggios--two of them each in the first and third lines--must have made "Conquering" a favorite of old piano teachers like my mom. It just appeared, no cause or reason. For a time, unconsciously, I sang along--

See them with courage advancing,
Clad in their brilliant array,
Shouting the Name of their Leader,
Hear them exultingly say:

--and then the chorus, first time in years:

Not to the strong is the battle,
Not to the swift is the race,
Yet to the true and the faithful
Vict’ry is promised through grace.

My muscles flex. Youth returns. I'm suddenly capable of another half-hour on my knees in the hot sun. Fanny Crosby plays, and I'm caught in the march just as I once upon a time must have been.

What came to mind, strangely enough, was a hide drawing in the local museum, a story some Lakota storyteller once told in paint--a surprise cavalry attack on a Native village. Many died--the unsparing pictures are grisly, women and children bleeding and dying.

"Who won?" some kid asked me on a tour a year or so ago.

The fight the hide painting commemorates "the Battle of Slim Buttes," first engagement after Little Big Horn. Took place in far, far northwest South Dakota. I told the kid battle was not a Lakota victory.

He pointed to the bottom of the painting. "All these ones are winning," he said. In four pictures of hand-to-hand combat, Lakota warriors are most definitely handling the attacking cavalry.

The fight as pictured on the hide features horrific carnage, bloody death in a cavalry unit's surprise attack. Still, individually at least, defiant warriors show their mettle. In those hand-t0-hand struggles, the white men are bloodied, dying. The kid was right.

Why show the Native guys winning? Because who's telling the story makes a ton of difference.  The cavalry would assess what happened by numbers of fatalities, but the Lakota, a warrior society, placed emphasis on valor and courage and dignity. Victory was not assessed by comparing the numbers of casualties, but by the fortitude of those who fought the good fight.

Not to the strong is the battle,
Not to the swift is the race;
But to the true and the faithful
Victory is promised through grace.

Amazing, or so it seemed as I was out there picking weeds. The old Fanny Crosby hymn that arose out of nowhere bespeaks a spiritual victory, a moral that is, strangely enough, as Native as it is Christian: to the true and the faithful victory is promised through grace.

Heresy? I suppose. But I couldn't help thinking the comparison was worth noting. You want to understand the obvious discrepancies in that hide painting's storytelling? --think "Conquering Now and Still to Conquer." Think Fanny Crosby.

That's reason enough to smile, even when you're out picking weeds.