Helping New Orleans Heal
The Rev. Mark Sherwindt, Pastor
Zion Evangelical Lutheran Church
Pentecost 3: June 17-18, 2006
Our arrival in New Orleans made for some powerful first impressions. Mark Votaw, now on the sandy beaches of the Outer Banks, seemed to have captured it exactly right when he talked about the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, a visceral reaction to the sight of devastation everywhere around us when we crossed into St. Bernard Parish, a full nine months after Katrina left the look of death in her aftermath. We first began to notice Katrina's handiwork 135 miles north heading south through Mississippi on I-59. There were trees down, patches of land cleared, visible scars left from the winds and rain that seemed to get progressively worse as we approached the Gulf Coast; and no areas were more scarred than what we saw in St. Bernard Parish.
There were piles of trash - once treasures - that symbolized the lives of folks who once lived in those now-condemned houses, folks who once worked in those now-closed storefronts. FEMA said that the State of Louisiana was responsible for trash collection along state highways. And so, there are miles and miles of four lane highways, with long piles of ruined merchandise - mattresses, bedding, furniture, all ruined by flood water, lining the highways and sitting out in front of closed-down and boarded-up storefronts. They haven't seen any trash pickups for five months. That's when FEMA turned it over to the State. Billons of dollars of aid, money to pay for trash pickups, but it's just not finding its way to this devastated county called St. Bernard Parish.
All I can say is that fixin' New Orleans wasn't anything we were going to accomplish on a four day adventure for missioners from Ohio. Nine months have passed, and the movement toward reconstruction seems to be rolling along … at a glacial pace. “Sitting on the dock of the bay, watching the time roll away.…” Actually, I think Otis Redding wrote tide; but sitting on the dock of our bay in St. Bernard Parish seemed to be an exercise in watching time roll away, leaving little evidence that the hustle-and-bustle of human activity was making much of a difference. Devastation, discouragement, feeling overwhelmed by the sight of it all, and quite helpless; yet, there we were at the corner of Bromily Boulevard and St. Bernard Highway working to make a difference as the Adullam Christian Fellowship turned a flooded out Winn Dixie grocery store into a center of church outreach, mission, service, and worship.
One of the more encouraging aspects of the first impressions left with our arrival in New Orleans was encountering folks who were listening to God's voice, and their neighbors', calling us to care and to help. Mike, our worksite host, was one of those persons, a young man who had come from Southern California to extend the presence of God's love to his partners almost two thousand miles away. There was a group from Celebration Baptist Church that came from the suburbs of New Orleans to help with Operation Blessing, a ministry which distributes food, clothing, and hot meals on site at the Adullam Christian Fellowship. We were among the folks who had heard God's call: "Here I am, Lord. Is it I, Lord? I have heard you calling in the night. I will go, Lord, if you lead me. I will hold your people in my heart." [With One Voice, #752] Nicki, Matt, Michelle, Linda, Steve, Karen, Jon, Bob, Chase, Mark, Corey: we sensed the call. We saw the need, that there is no measure to the work that needs to be done, to the lives that have been disrupted, many destroyed with the homes that were flooded and now left vacant, working in the humid heat, joining the ranks of many now engaged in the work of demolition so that signs of new life might emerge through the ongoing work of homes renovated, churches rebuilt, lives restored with a greater faith in God and a wider and deeper trust in God's people.
These first impressions were powerful; but they led to other questions that we couldn't help but think about. I'll call it the question of meaning, our quest for a glimpse of the truth, something bigger, better, and longer lasting than so many of the things we love and seek in life. There we were, right there in one of the hardest hit areas, getting a glimpse of a tsunami-like flood, where a 37-foot surge washed away life as they knew it, washing away life as they'll probably never know it again. There we were, stunned as we looked around in the neighborhood, at the homes left vacant, at cars under bridges, at storefronts closed. We saw so many things that so many people spent their lives pursuing. They bought homes, planted gardens, cared for lawns, enjoyed the shade of big loping trees in the back yard. They thought they had something. Think about the memories of children playing, families flourishing, people walking to the neighborhood grocery store, sitting on the stoop, complaining about the heat, but loving every minute of it. Think of the time spent, the energy invested, the dreams imagined. These were real neighborhoods, with real neighbors, real people with faith and hope, with dreams and disappointments, finding meaning in life, a little bit of the good life. And then with the winds and rain of Katrina, with the waters overflowing from the levees, everything they thought they had was gone. Washed away! What lasts? What can we find that can't be snatched away without notice? That's the question that Katrina raised, the question we were invited to struggle with.
We took our Daily Devotional Books with us to New Orleans. I just love these books. We're going to have Easter all year long! Steve Ross wrote a meditation for the 44th day of Easter, May 29, which raised this very question. “Life for me,” he wrote, “has been a quest, a quest that I have been pursuing since my age was in single digits. And it is a quest that I'm sure I'll be pursuing for many more years.” I think that some of this stuff that Steve is focusing on is about the quest for meaning - what makes sense, what gives life purpose, what really lasts, what's worth pursuing, because when we've got it, it will stay with us come what may. These were precisely the questions that Denise and Nolan faced when Katrina took away their home, and most of their lives, and whatever stability they had come to know as lifelong residents of New Orleans. Denise and Nolan created and ran the ministry that provided food, clothing, and a hot lunch to anyone in St. Bernard Parish who needed it. They lost their home to flood destruction. She spoke about sisters and sons, parents and grandbabies, once together in St. Bernard Parish, now scattered who knows where because of Katrina. Her home was bulldozed just this month. She's found another place, which still needs to be gutted, but it won't be until the long process of waiting for a loan to go through, with all the various levels of bureaucracy that want to have a say - and the layers are many, the waiting, considerable - that she can begin the process of rebuilding a home.
Denise told me that the Lord was teaching her about the things that are important in life, the things we should value; and they are not things. She cried over the loss of her home, and the lifetime of personal and family treasures that were stacked up as trash on the street, with what was left bulldozed into oblivion right before her eyes. She loved those things, but those weren't the things God called her to love. Those things couldn't sustain the trust she placed in them, the time and energy we spend securing them. God was teaching her how to trust in the right things, the things that endure, the things that really matter. Trust in the Lord. Trust in the work God calls you to do. Trust in the lives God calls us to renew and rebuild. Trust in the life of love and service that is centered on God, grounded in God, and guided by God. One day everything is going great. You've got it all - your family together, a nice home, with plants inside and flowers outside, the car, the kids, a job, with a little left over for the extras that make a good life great. Steve Ross talks about this in his meditation. “Since I was a youth, I've been dreaming and planning for the good life. Most of those dreams involved wealth and self indulgence. [Let's face it, these are the kind of things we are enticed to pursue in a consumer age.] I have come to realize that what I was pursuing [indulging myself with wealth and a world of things] would not bring me to what I was seeking.” That's key. That's critical. That's important. “I may never find pure contentment” - what some call true happiness, what the beatitudes called being blessed - “but I am sure that Christ can lead me nearer to that goal.”
Seeking meaning and finding truth: that's how philosophers might put it. What really matters? What truly lasts? What is of lasting value? What's worth trusting, and pursuing? We found a little of that in New Orleans. “Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose.” That's how Bobbie McGee said it. That's what Denise and Nolan, and tens of thousands of others have experienced. But I've got news for you. That's not freedom. That's the sight of tragedy following massive devastation. Freedom is what we find when we stumble upon what truly lasts, what is worth the investment of our life's pursuit. Freedom is what we have when God gives us a foretaste of true joy, and introduces us to the truly good life, the life that connects us to the source of all things good, the life that is centered on, grounded in, and guided by God. We saw a lot in New Orleans. We did some hard work. We had some great times. God opened our eyes, and we caught a glimpse of Jesus caring for his lambs with others in his flock, those who were looking for the way to know and to do God's will. The prayer with which Steve ends his meditation holds a lot of truth for what we saw in New Orleans, for what we are called to live here in North Canton. “O God, in your love you have given us gifts that previous questions would have found unimaginable. It is easy to become so occupied with the quest for material things that we forget the things that are spiritual. Open our eyes to see the things that endure, that lead to true life, that give lasting joy … in Jesus' name. Amen