Day 4: The Waters of Baptism (alex)

How does it feel to be standing in the Lower Ninth Ward during a hurricane? Just ask our youth group when they get back. It rained today.

Despite the monsoon-like torrent in the morning, our group worked. Drenched, they stood in vacated lots where homes and lives were destroyed and strong-armed the overgrowth, making the lots ready for regular mowing. Just getting a lawn ready for mowing--clear of debris and scrubby brush-- can incrementally advance the property's status in the redevelopment effort. Our kids knew that. Given every opportunity to seek shelter, rest, warmth, they insisted on continuing their work wet clothes and soggy shoes. I was more than impressed. I was proud.

As we braved the elements of Tropical Storm Alex, one young person looked at me and said "With this rain we're just experiencing a little taste of what these people experienced during that storm. It connects us to them." I couldn't help but think of the waters of baptism and how that's exactly what is accomplished--connecting. Through the waters of baptism we are connected to God's people throughout salvation history. Our holy water becomes the Red Sea and the Jordan River, and we become members of the family of God. Likewise, enduring the rainwaters of a gulf storm in the Lower Ninth Ward in some small way connects us to those people.

We continue to hear from neighbors on our site (Tricou Street) that, while our work is certainly much appreciated, we amount to more than the sum of our productive labors. Numerous passers-by have mentioned that the mere sight of white kids in the 9th (we stand out a bit) is a sign that the country still cares. Just knowing that the surge of post-Katrina relief hasn't ended is enough to elevate spirits. We are working to foster an incarnational awareness in the kids, that God uses them to become the embodied angels of hope for people whose lives have been radically disrupted physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Examples don't get much clearer than this.

During Compline, we heard a first-person account of a local man's experience of the storm--James who works at Annunciation. We listened as he told us all about the civic disfunction following the storm and the unspeakable tragedies which were too graphic for news media. We heard how he survived, how he rescued people, where he went for refuge, how he was bussed to other cities and treated as a refugee, how for 3 years following the storm he cried 365 days a year. His home was gone, his family was missing, his world had ended. But the miraculous thing about his story is that he ends with this: "My life is better now than before the hurricane." Katrina enabled him to acknowledge his rootedness in the culture and place of New Orleans, and suffering alongside all people of all creeds, colors, and classes he learned that all people are the same at heart. Surviving the storm actually gave him new tools for looking at life as a gift and an opportunity to serve his community.

Following this talk our group separated from the VA, TX, and MO groups. We discussed privilege and made some comparisons of our situation in New Canaan and the situation of a typical teenage boy from the lower 9th ward. We discussed the privilege of parents with college education, good schools and extra curricular programs, safe neighborhoods, etc. We also briefly touched on the topic of realizing our whiteness. Getting beyond our life experience in this way forces us to locate ourselves somehow in a constructive discussion of race, class and politics. I truly believe the youth are broadening in awareness of their privilege--not in a way that makes them feel guilty--but in a way that invites them to make the most of the opportunities in life through empowered service.

Morale is high. Bonding is coming along perfectly. David Shea and Cynnie Thunem may be the best youth chaperones I've ever seen. All in all we've faced every hurdle with grace and a positive outlook, and I look forward to seeing what this group will do for the rest of the week.

Big Love from the Big Easy,
Josh