Did God Cause Katrina?

Like so many other Americans I have found myself glued to the television screen watching the reporters predictably standing in front of levees, seawalls, beaches just before, during or after hurricanes Katrina and Rita have struck. I watched also with horror the many unforgetable scenes coming out of New Orleans in the aftermath of Katrina: looting, people left behind, the terrible conditions in the Dome. My daughter is a graduate of Tulane University in public health and so I have felt how the personal story of our family somehow intersects with the story of New Orleans.

My most enduring emotion was a mixture of sorrow for the loss of so many thousands of people--their lives in some cases but also property, employment, social and living space--and outright anger at the tepid response of government at all levels to what was certainly a predictable occurrance. No need to write more about this here. It has been covered remarkably well by the media.

One of the biggest surprises to me during these last days has been a theological undercurrent that has not really gotten broad coverage in our nation's press. I became aware of it when one of my colleagues at work reported that her pastor at an evangelical community church here in Indianapolis stated in his weekly sermon that Katrina was God's punishment for the evil of "that part of the country." I didn't ask what constitutes that evil but I can guess: Mardi Gras, drinking, the French Quarter, Anne Rice vampire yarns, tolerance of gays and other sexual minorities. . . . . . . . . My surprise was compounded when, during my weekly telephone call with my mother she shared more or less approvingly that one of the television preachers that she sometimes watches on Sundays also interpreted Katrina as a sign of God's wrath.

Of course, I should have not been surprised. Hello, Dan Hoffman! This is a country where one of the bestselling fiction series is the Left Behind series in which God is (fictionally?) portrayed as bringing about the so-called rapture and is concluding history through warfare, pestilence, etc. [If you are interested in exporing this kind of theology and its political and social implications, a critical study by Barbara R. Rossing entitled The Rapture Exposed: The Message of Hope in the Book of Revelation is very much recommended. I should have known also that America has become more and more fundamentalist in its approach to all things and that the discourse of Katrina-as-God's-punshiment would be inevitable.

I am a Christian, though not a far-right fundamentalist. I am active in the Episcopal Church, one of the more tolerant and progressive denominations in this country. I am not expecting to hear about God's punishment of New Orleans' sinners in that church. Rather, it is my expectation that I will hear calls to care for those who have had their lives and webs of relationship tragically interrupted. I hope to hear challenges to dig into our pockets and do more than feel media-induced pity.

For myself, I renounce strongly the language of God's punishment. We see the truth on car stickers all the time: Shit happens. This is just the condition of living in a finite world in which we do not have control of all forces. It happens not because God wills it but simply because it is wired into the condition of life itself. In the Old Testament Job learned this. In the New Testament, Jesus succumbed to conditions that he could not control but I believe that he was victorious in the end. Just because something happens or does not happen does not mean that God is either rewarding or punishing our behavior. Things happen. The real issue, as it was for Job or Jesus, is how do we deal with it.

The idea that Katrina wiped out New Orleans because of its sinfulness reflects, in my mind, a misunderstanding of sinfulness. How can anyone in Indianapolis, one of America's major urban centers where everything goes on, even if we don't see it, claim that New Orleans is more sinful. As far as I can tell, all persons are alienated from moral truth and behavior. If it were a matter of punishing sinfulness, who would be spared, ever?

Here are a few of the sins that I think we should consider if we are going to point fingers:

--The constant denial of the Bush administration that there is such a thing as global warming, even though we may now be seeing some of the first catastrophic consequences of it.

--The shipment of our military forces at all levels to a tragic war, based on lies to the American public, in Iraq and the consequent absence of these forces to assist in the aftermath of Katrina.

--The inability of this nation generally to envision energy sources or lives apart from petroleum resulting in disruption when refineries and pipelines are effected, as in Katrina and Rita.

--The "Left Behind" of the poorest and most vulnerable of New Orleans' residents, most of whom were persons of color.

God does not destroy God's creation. But we are challenged by Katrina to figure out how to respond morally and ethically for the greatest good when disaster strikes, as it inevitably will.

At the end of the day, I somehow believe that the generosity and the community spirit of Americans will overcome the rantings of far right Christians.

Cleaning the Toilet/Finding God

In order to secure an additional stream of income, I clean residences in downtown Indianapolis. I do this in between working at a bookstore and trying to care for my family life and to be active in my community.

For many of my friends and family, it seems strange that I clean houses as part of my living. I mean, with a long work history and graduate studies, why would I want to do this? For one thing, it is good and reliable money. For another, I just like cleaning . . . I have never viewed it as a "lower form" of human endeavor and enjoy keeping my own place clean and orderly. Then, it provides a wonderful situation where I can exercise without going to a gym: You crouch, squat, lift, move muscles in all directions. And finally--maybe most importantly to me--there is the silence.

All day long I enounter noise. At the bookstore there is overhead music and a constant flow of announcements to customers and staff. But I only clean houses when my clients are away at work and when their pets are at the dog or cat sitters. In silence I am able to work cleaning and to work thinking and reflecting.

What do I think about while polishing a coffee table or on my hands and knees using Murphy's soap on an old hardwood floor? Well, often it is about people in my life: My kids, partner, best friends. . . Sometimes it is about the practicalities of life: Is the Visa bill paid on time? What do I need to fix for dinner? Have I set my annual doctor's exam?

The silence also lends itself to some of the bigger questions that concern a person of my age and situation: What comes about in death? After death? Why does so much injustice and suffering seem to be increasing around me? Is there such a thing as human or historic progress? Why do I often retain anger after I think that I have forgiven someone? Am I a poser or "the genuine thing"? These are big questions and often then can't be thought through in solitude or even in silence. But at least cleaning time is a period when I can let the questions surface and when I can play with them from different angles. Maybe later I will ask Nelia or Frankie or Tyrone or my mom to give me some insights.

I have a friend who is struggling with his work, his own core identity and his future. Over dinner in our neighborhood pub his asked me where I find God. This question is not new to me because everyone who knows me knows that I reject a purely secular approach to life as simply not big enough for life itself. Many if not most of my friends are secular and so the question tends to come up often. Usually, I answer with some statement like "I find God in the life of Jesus" or "I find God in the struggles of those who suffer." But this time, without knowing why, I just blurted out "I find God while cleaning toilets." My friend demonstrated surprise, and a little unease, at this answer. And I surprised myself as well!

I guess that I was trying to say that I find God--whatever or whoever God is--while engaged in small, menial work. And I wanted to say that if you can't find God in that situation, then you probably can't find him/her/it at all. As good as the majestic sunset, the rugged mountains, the fine music of the mass or other sublime moments may be for communicating God, those moments are infrequent. But the small moments of our daily-ness, busy-ness have to be conveyors of God as well.

So, that was how I astounded and probably confused my friend. Another friend, Steve, who practices Zen and is involved in serious social advocacy, told me that my answer (but not the explanation that I have provided you, my reader, in the above paragraph) was worthy of a Zen teacher. I loved this comment. Maybe just saying that God is to be found in cleaning toilets is a comment that can and should stand on its own without any explication.

In the Christian tradition, Brother Lawrence has evoked some of the theme I am trying to discuss in this blog posting. Also, George Herbert has written the following verses to a hymn in the Episcopal Hymnal (#592): "All may of thee partake, nothing can be so mean, which with this tincture, "For thy sake," will not grow bright and clean. A servant with this cause makes drudgery divine: who sweeps a room, as for thy laws, makes that and the action fine."




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