Catholic Social Thoughts

Catholic Social Thoughts

Incarnation

Though he was harshly treated, he submitted and opened not his mouth; Like a lamb led to the slaughter or a sheep before the shearers, he was silent and opened not his mouth. Oppressed and condemned, he was taken away, and who would have thought any more of his destiny? When he was cut off from the land of the living, and smitten for the sin of his people, a grave was assigned him among the wicked and a burial place with evildoers, though he had done no wrong nor spoken any falsehood. (But the LORD was pleased to crush him in infirmity.) If he gives his life as an offering for sin, he shall see his descendants in a long life, and the will of the LORD shall be accomplished through him. Because of his affliction he shall see the light in fullness of days;

Isaiah 53:7-11

New Orleans is Devastated. Whole communities destroyed, everywhere tent cities, trailer parks and refugee camps. N.O.L.A. is destroyed.

Orange and black spray paint testify, NOPD, No Entry, Unsafe. 25 fish, 1 Crab, Dead Dog. Dead. The last is the worst. Dead. No longer animal life searched out by the SPCA… human. A simple word spray painted with a shivering hand. How can this be? D-E-A- my God! D.

How can any one person experience this whole. I’ve seen parts I’ve seen waterlines from 3 feet to over a roof… houses on houses. Houses on cars. Four houses from different blocks now one. Now sharing walls. Red fading into wood and white trim into blue; fading into wood and white trim, into pink; fading into wood and white trim, into pistachio. Chunks of metal formerly known by families as vans. Warehouses flattened. Black mold swarming white sheet rock. Refrigerators that must be duct tapped and sealed. DON’T OPEN THEM –EVER.

Everything Out. Down to the studs. All walls except exterior – out. Axes, sledgehammers, crowbars and boots. Kicking them in can be easiest… except on plaster and slats. Push on through to the other side, warn them first, fogged goggles and change your mask frequently. Drink water and breathe fresh air then look next door and realize you’re surrounded.

A dead city. With pockets of life. Our camp is luxury – a better bed than my dorm, maybe not by looks, but by comfort. Better food and warm showers, generators, AC and flushing toilets. Most people have water now… maybe not power but water. Few street lights work from damage or odd traffic patterns, they now flash. Red-Red-Red. Welcome to NOLA.

Work

What good is it, my brothers, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can that faith save him? If a brother or sister has nothing to wear and has no food for the day, and one of you says to them, "Go in peace, keep warm, and eat well," but you do not give them the necessities of the body, what good is it? So also faith of itself, if it does not have works, is dead. Indeed someone might say, "You have faith and I have works." Demonstrate your faith to me without works, and I will demonstrate my faith to you from my works.

James 2:14-18

We drove through the 9^th ward looking at the devastation of blocks and blocks of neighborhood. Houses in the middle of roads, cars flipped on top of others. Sheer unadulterated devastation. “Wherever you are.” “What?” “Oh?” I realized no one would understand that phrase. “I was thinking about a major disaster and wondering ‘where do you start?’ It’s overwhelming. But ‘Where do you start?’ wherever you are.” You have to. You pick up the sledgehammer, the broom. You pickup the body bags, the fridges. You pickup the rubble that obstructs your path. You pick it up. You pick up your pen and write a check. Where do you start? Wherever you are.

Family

When Mary came to where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said to him, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." When Jesus saw her weeping and the Jews who had come with her weeping, he became perturbed and deeply troubled, and said, "Where have you laid him?" They said to him, "Sir, come and see."

And Jesus wept.

John 11:32-35

“Hi, How ya doin?”

“Good, we’re just taking a water break. How are you?”

“Great, it’s a wonderful day” the large smile grows. “I was just out looking for tubes for my bike.”

This purple and green clad man is looking for tubes? Wow. I forget I’m in New Orleans. I forget how luxurious bikes are. I’m a cyclist. And I always carry spare tubes on my bike, a spare in my bag, and a few at home. The sashes he has around his shoulders seem too large and too small to fit the bike he’s riding. But he still has them, just in case.

This Cajun and I talk for a bit, he does most of the talking, and we are eager to hear. He took pictures of his house drowning, and tells us stories of his cleverness in building his house… he had a generator, plumbing, fresh water, and food all ready on his second floor. He keeps talking about things…

“I stayed six nights in the upper room with Abraham” his jovial voice continues “and believe it or not, my name is Noah.” He’s an easy talking Creole, who loves life and joy, but his cheerfulness is that of a shock victim yet to wake up. “I’m depressed that I’m not depressed, I even went to counseling to figure out why I’m not depressed.” His buoyant manner seems just that. He starts a new story with a good-humored smile… “We had to let Mrs. Martha die.”

Destination of Goods

The bread in your cupboard belongs to the hungry, the coat hanging unused in your closet belongs to the one who needs it; the shoes rotting in your closet belong to the one who has no shoes, the money which you hoard up belongs to the poor.

St. Basil

Dinner is the time that I get to relax, but also a time I feel almost guilty. We eat well… very very very well. The camp has chefs that are employed by a casino that was closed down by the hurricane. They’re here because the casino didn’t want to lose them, so now they’re lent to the camp. The food is amazing… every meal I feel like I’m in paradise. But a few steps away there are people eating basic foods, if food at all. The natives who are not lucky enough to still be in the camp, but are lucky enough to be back home, to still have a home. I feel spoiled. I get air conditioning, warm showers, a plasma TV. in the rec room, free laundry, free and abundant food. And all I’m doing is knocking down walls.

They’re talking about work. I met some of them last night, they’re nice guys from Campus Crusade at some college either in Connecticut, Texas, Wyoming or Georgia… I tell them what we do. “We gut the insides of the houses down to the 2 by 4s, then we mist the 2 by 4s with bleach to get rid of the mold.” they don’t do that, they just gut, and from what I gather, they gut rather poorly and slowly, not nearly as thoroughly as we do, and in crews twice our size.

“Bleaching works okay I guess, but the last time I was here I was talking to a guy, and he told me about this method they have where they fumigate the house with a chemical and kill all of the mold. And it’s only $10,000.” I’m stunned and have to review the words in my head.

“$10,000, these people don’t have that.”

“But compared to rebuilding it’s a drop in the bucket, everyone should do it.”

“These people don’t have $10,000”

“But it’s the most effective way, and really it’s not that much money. And if it is, they can just take out a loan.”

I want to continue my protest and make him see the world he’s now living in. A world where a few bucks can save your life. Where houses are destroyed, and personal histories lie in complete shambles. Where cars stop to thank people working on houses. Where people from other states have to come in to gut.

War

Common Good

Human Rights

Participation

Solidarity

Subsidiarity

Ecology

Christocentric

Active & Productive