The Sacrifice in Mongolia

Sometimes I hear a story that puts my culture into such stark contrast with another that I am atomized for a moment; my worldview blown apart. Last night I heard such a story.

A storyteller told a story of her trip to Mongolia, where she had the opportunity to live among the nomadic people of the plains for one week. Once she settled into their daily routines, she enjoyed the simplicity and beauty of her surroundings. Everything was made out of wool: the yurt covers, rugs, pillows, blankets, and clothes. She said the smell of sheep was everywhere inside the home and outside with the living herds of sheep. Each night, the family would gather around the grandfather as he told stories.

On the last full day of her stay, the family told her they would have a big good-bye party for her and invite neighboring families. That afternoon, the grandfather motioned her over to him. He had the ewe that had been tied near the yurt with him. Lynn had grown fond of the ewe and had pet her each time she walked past.

The grandfather was stroking the animal and so Lynn began petting her, too. Then he began to sing to her and talk in her ear. He lifted her into his lap and the ewe settled happily into his stroking hands. When she became still from the song and touch, he took out a long knife and slit her belly. She did not move. He continued to sing to her and talk to her and pet her. Then he took Lynn’s hand in his own and reached up into the belly, took the heart and put a gently pressure on it until it stopped beating, all the while singing. Then she and the grandfather worked together to prepare the sheep for the meal later in the day.

She said that it was the most spiritual feeling of connection and gratitude that she had ever felt in her life.

Except for the actual killing and eating of lamb, there is nothing about this story that is similar to my culture. I keep wondering what the world must look like to a people who are so sensitive and attuned to that which completely sustains them. What does that level of gratitude and respect feel like? What is it like to believe in taking time to make a sacred bond when there is no efficient-bottom-line reason to do so? It’s this kind of time, patience, and care that I want so much for people to do with one another. Here are people who are so full of respect; they make time for the feelings and spiritual experience of an ewe. I am humbled. I’m also grateful for their example of the depths we humans are capable of.