021000 Hmong share two faiths, Shamanism and Christianity

Wa Koua Lor and Sia Lo share a lot -- family, nationality, culture.

But in matters of faith, the two cousins respectfully part ways.

Lor is a shaman -- a spiritual healer in the traditional Hmong faith of shamanism.
Lo is a Christian.

The cousins represent the old and new faiths in the Hmong community. For 50 years,
Christianity has been gaining converts from the traditional faith, but Lo is a
minority among his relatives, most of whom still follow shamanism.

The cousins and their families, however, seem to live comfortably with their two
faiths.

"I think there are a lot of similarities between Christianity and shamanism," Lo
said. "I believe there is a place for everyone, and I think religion is an
individual thing."

Lor said he doesn't mind that Lo is a Christian. In fact, Lor said it doesn't
change their relationship at all because his destiny is to help anyone who needs
it.

"Whoever asks you, you help them," Lor said. "You can hit me, but I will find only
nice words to say to you. That is the shaman way. When you help, you help from the
heart because it's a god-given gift."

As a shaman, he said, he's healed both Christians and shamanists. He added that
only someone who has a pure heart can be a shaman. "People think it's demonic or
evil, but only the good can heal," Lor said.

Christian connection

The Hmong are a farming people who live in mountainous ranges in Southeast Asia and
southern China. Refugees began immigrating to the United States in the 1970s, after
the Vietnam War ended.

It's been only 50 years since Boua Ya Thao became the first Hmong to embrace
Christianity, according to one source. Thao, a sorcerer, was converted by the
Christian & Missionary Alliance group, writes Naolue Taylor Kue in "A Hmong Church
History."

The event was celebrated by 12,000 Hmong during a celebration in the Twin Cities
last summer.

Today, about 11 percent of the estimated 75,000 to 80,000 Hmong in the Twin Cities
are Christian, according to Family and Youth Advancement Services in St. Paul.

Ayer Xong of St. Paul, who is becoming a shaman, said he believes many Hmong
initially became Christian because they were poor, and missionaries came and
brought food and clothing. "They believed that anyone who gave these were
considered gods," he said.

Xong said Shamanism will not disappear from the Hmong. "I feel shamanism will keep
growing."

Xeng Djoua Xiong of Winfield, Ill., chairman of last summer's celebration, said
Christianity has benefited the Hmong and "brought the Hmong not only toward
spirituality, but ... cultural advancement."

And even though many Hmong have become Christians, Xiong said, religion will not be
able to separate the Hmong people. They will still eat the same food, dress the
same way, live the same lifestyle and continue to live among each other and have
the same political agenda.

"Christianity, as I can see, is one of the best things to hold the Hmong together
and lead the Hmong families to have peace, respect, love and care for each other,"
he said.

Choosing to believe

The first time Sia Lo went to church he was 10 years old and a new immigrant to the
United States.

Six church groups had sponsored his family and gave them clothes and shoes. "We
came with nothing," Lo said.

As a result, his family started going to church.

"It wasn't our choice then," he said. "We landed here and we were thrown into it
and just accepted it. But after we learned about it, we did make a choice to become
Christians."

On a cool Sunday morning, Lo, dressed in a dark blue suit, was helping his wife,
MayKa, prepare their three children for church. His youngest, Edwin, 1, had ducked
between two couches to hide.

"We did not go to church in Laos," Lo said. "My grandfather was a shaman. When he
came over here, he didn't practice shamanism anymore because the Hmong population
was so small."

The population was another reason the family became Christian.

Most Christian Hmong belong to the Christian & Missionary Alliance Church, but in
the Twin Cities many are also Lutheran like Lo, Baptist or Catholic.

The largest Hmong church is the St. Paul Hmong Alliance Church in Maplewood.

On a recent visit, two coat racks that stood in the middle of the entrance hall
were packed with bulky winter coats. Two deacons in dark blue suits stood near the
racks, handing out service programs. The chapel was packed.

In the basement, dozens of children sat in lines as a teacher led them in song.
Teenage helpers sat and stood along the side to watch over the children.

Back inside the chapel, words to the worship songs were projected on the right
corner wall. A band set up on the left side of the stage accompanied the Hmong and
English worship songs.

At Lo's church, First Covenant Church of St. Paul, there are not many Hmong. Most
of the believers are white.

"Christianity makes one race accept and love another. That's why I believe in it,"
said Lo, a lawyer from St. Paul. "We did it because our sponsors loved us. We saw
it in their eyes. [Jesus] doesn't want you to choose him because of fear. He gives
you that freedom to choose."

Old ways

Pao Nao Lor limped into the living room of his home in St. Paul and sat down to
wait for Wa Koua Lor, his cousin and a shaman, to come and start a ceremony to ask
the spirits for protection.

Lo sat nearby. He said he usually goes to help cook, but never participates in the
ceremony.

"I'm only here as an observer and to let the relatives know that we love them," Lo
said.

The sun shone through the white curtains into the living room and helped warm a
room filled with 20 children and adults.

The November ceremony was for Pao Nao Lor's pregnant daughter-in-law. The shaman is
needed to cleanse her from any birthing problems, and to summon the spirits to
protect the unborn baby.

A wooden bench was set up in front of an altar that was against a living-room wall.
Four cups of water -- representing cleansing power such as holy water -- sat in
front of altar. An egg -- a gift for the soul -- was placed in a bowl full of rice
grains. And paper money was placed on the altar.

An hour passed before Wa Koua Lor showed up, dressed in slacks and a sweatshirt. He
had visitors from Wisconsin who needed his services, he explained to Pao Nao Lor.

Soon, small talk was cut short when Wa Koua Lor put a red cloth over his head and
climbed on top of the bench, facing the altar.

Lyrical words, sad and old, spilled forth as he chanted, eyes closed.

Several young men brought a live pig in a barrel and placed it behind the bench.

Wa Koua Lor called the daughter-in-law into the room, pointing to the bench; she
sat down, wiggled around and hung her head. She seemed uncomfortable with all the
attention from the people gathered around her. The children were quiet for a moment
as they watched Wa Koua Lor tie a string around the young woman's shoulders and
then attach it around the pig's neck, but then continued in their small plays.

A gong filled the living room with its ring as Wa Koua Lor banged it with a stick
and walked around the young woman and pig, rolling his tongue. The gong is used to
call the shaman spirits.

He called out to Shee Yee, the father of shamanism, for help to chase away evil
spirits.

The young woman lifted her head as Wa Koua Lor hung paper money around her neck.
One. Two. Three. Then more, until the front of her shirt was covered with it. It
will be offered to the spirits as payment.

He spits at the young woman and stomps his feet to cleanse her after drinking from
the altar water. Burning paper money, he asked the pig's soul if it would be
sacrificed for the health and safety of the woman and baby.

"I'm drawing a line that you can't cross" with this sword, he told the evil spirits
in Hmong. And then he tossed two halves of a cow's horn on the floor to ask the
pig's soul if it was willing to take on the responsibility.

Several young men entered the room and picked up the barrel, carrying it to the
garage. The pig was slaughtered for its soul and for the dinner party to follow.

"Before Jesus, there were animal sacrifices to God all the time," Lo said. "The
ultimate sacrifice was Jesus."

An hour passed before Wa Koua Lor got back on the bench to begin his journey into
the spirit world to ask the pig's soul to protect the woman and baby.

It was a journey only he could take.

Lucy Y. Her can be contacted at lher@startribune.com

http://www.startribune.com/stOnLine/cgi-bin/article?thisSlug=SHAM10&date=10-Feb-2001&word=hmong