I know now what this meant, that the bison were the gift of a

Hear the voice of Black Elk, the holy man of the Oglala Lakota, who once declared with sorrow and wisdom: “I know now what this meant, that the bison were the gift of a good spirit and were our strength, but we should lose them, and from the same good spirit we must find another strength.” These words carry the weight of a people’s history, the grief of loss, and the eternal truth that though one source of power may fade, another will arise from the hand of the Creator. They are both lament and prophecy, both mourning and hope.

When Black Elk speaks of the bison, he speaks not only of an animal, but of life itself for his people. The bison gave food for the body, hides for shelter, bones for tools, and spirit for the sacred rituals of the Lakota. To the Plains peoples, the bison was the heartbeat of survival, the very image of divine generosity. To lose the bison was to lose not only sustenance, but a way of life, a rhythm of existence that had endured for generations. This loss, brought by the expansion of settlers and the ruthless slaughter of herds, was both a physical and spiritual devastation.

Yet Black Elk, in his vision, sees beyond despair. He recognizes that the bison was a gift of a good spirit, but that gifts are not eternal in form. They are eternal in essence. What is given once can be given again, though in a different shape. The strength his people once found in the bison could be found again—perhaps in new ways of living, in new sources of endurance, in the power of their faith and unity. This insight transforms mourning into resilience. It teaches that while the world changes, the Creator’s provision does not end.

History bears witness to this hard truth. When the great herds were gone, many Native peoples suffered hunger and despair. Yet in time, some found new strength—through adapting, through preserving traditions in the face of suppression, through passing down stories and ceremonies so that the spirit of their people would not die. The Lakota, though broken by hardship, kept alive their language, their dances, their prayers. They proved that even in loss, a new strength could be drawn from the same divine source.

The deeper meaning of Black Elk’s words is that no earthly gift, however sacred, is permanent. Nations may rise and fall, traditions may change, resources may vanish, but the Spirit who gives life is unchanging. To cling only to what was risks despair when it is lost. But to look beyond the gift to the Giver is to find renewal, to discover that strength can always be reborn in a new form. This is not only the wisdom of the Lakota, but the wisdom of all humanity.

The lesson for us, O listener, is this: when life takes from you what once sustained you, do not believe that all is lost. Look to the same good spirit, the source of life and endurance, and seek the new strength that is waiting. Just as the Lakota were called to find resilience beyond the bison, so too are we called to find resilience beyond the losses we endure—whether in death, in failure, in exile, or in change. Strength is not bound to one form; it is the eternal gift of the divine.

Practical steps are these: when you lose what you once depended upon, grieve honestly, but do not remain in despair. Ask yourself: “What new form of strength is being offered to me?” Preserve the essence of what was good in the past, but allow it to live anew in fresh ways. Draw upon your faith, your community, your inner resilience, and the wisdom of your ancestors. In so doing, you honor both the gift that was and the new gift that is to come.

So let Black Elk’s words be carried forward as a teaching to all peoples: “The bison were the gift of a good spirit and were our strength… but we must find another strength.” This is the eternal rhythm of life: gifts given, gifts lost, gifts renewed. The world may strip away its forms, but the Spirit never ceases to provide. To those who endure in faith, there will always be another strength.