God's Garden

There are not a lot of trees in the Lower 9th Ward of New Orleans. There aren't many people, either. There are a lot of very tall weeds on vacant plots, a lot of empty, ruined houses, and a lot of reminders of Hurricane Katrina's floodwaters two years ago.

Recently I had a chance to spend time in New Orleans as part of a mission team working with Habitat for Humanity in the nearby Upper 9th Ward. Our crew built on the work of others--framing, roofing, setting windows--and then departed to let some new team pick up the progress.

The Upper 9th is so different than the Lower 9th, a difference that can probably be linked to a few more feet of elevation. The flood waters in the Upper 9th were considerably less than in the Lower 9th, and as a result people are rebuilding with greater confidence. Many abandoned homes certainly remain in the Upper 9th, also many FEMA trailers parked awkwardly beside gutted houses on tiny lots, yet normal life is regenerating there.

But the Lower 9th is a contradiction--mostly ghost town, but with a brand new elementary school. A long series of traffic lights, but very few cars to stop and go. Stores with no customers. Signs with no messages. Churches with no services.

A comeback for the Lower 9th is impeded by large economic obstacles. Before Katrina the area was populated by lower income families in houses of modest value. Even for those with insurance coverage, a check covering the value of the lost home would be too small to pay for reconstruction. Because the land is below water level, and the potential clientele poor, developers are reluctant to step in and speculate, the risks are too high.

So the Lower 9th sits largely unchanged since the flood dried up. A few families have ventured home, but too few.

A friend on mine said that God is taking care of the Lower 9th--he's turning it into a park. That may be so, but if it is, I can't imagine anyone making a recreational visit. But who knows? People buy tee shirts and postcards in Death Valley, after all.

Rather than a park, I think God may be turning the Lower 9th into a garden, sort of an Eden, but long, long after the fall. It is a fertile garden, but it grows mainly weeds. It's a garden in need of gardeners--men and women to till the cursed ground, plant seeds, harvest fruit.

There are some who believe the Lower 9th should be abandoned--its too low, too vulnerable, too expensive to protect from the next storm. Just give it back to God, some might say.

But it's too late for that. God already gave it to us. He said take care of it, be fruitful and multiply. The Lower 9th is waiting for God's people to come and go to work.

A famous, albeit mythical resident of New Orleans once said she was dependent on the kindness of strangers. That seems a motto for the Lower 9th today. It is a fallen place, a garden in need of gardeners.

Under Attack

There's terrible stuff going on in my neighborhood right now. Several homes and cars have been broken into in recent days. Reports of suspcious looking "blacks" have been circulating. Emails are zipping between neighbors about sightings, fears, police responses and ideas for increased security.

There is genuine reason for concern. Yesterday a teenager--indeed black--was arrested in the neighborhood and charged with burglary. It was reported he was wearing a ring found while ransacking one home. At another house, someone broke in while a child was home alone. The child hid in a closet while the thief swiped a laptop.

It seems we are under attack from two sources. The first is--obviously--the theives themselves. Whoever they are--it is unlikely the one teen arrested is working alone--they are targeting our neighborhood during this vacation season when so many houses are empty.

The second source of attack stems from our own fear, and the paranoia and racism it reveals. It causes us to look at suspicion at every black male we see. It encourages us throw up barriers from our neighbors.

My neighborhood is nice. The homes are spacious. The families who live in them--mostly white, but not all--are upper middle class, educated, engaged in community, caring.

Around our nice neighborhood are some homes that are not so big, not quite as nice, and occupied by families that are not quite as blessed economically.

It concerns me that in recent weeks there has been a lot of talk about ways to section off our homes from these others. I've heard the surrounding neighborhood described as a "ghetto" and some of those who reside there labeled "riffraff." I am confident that most of these neighbors, in truth, love their homes as much as we do, and also live in fear of crime.

We live in a troubled, fallen world. All over the globe people live in daily fear of a car bomb, a thief in the night, a drive-by shooting, a rapist wearing the uniform of a soldier, a missle from the sky. For those of us in the U.S. these are second-hand fears. We are for the most part insulated from the realities of evil imposed on our routines.

Yet I am seeing a little glimpse of what an up-close and personal threat can do to our--my--sense of charity, community and love of neighbor. When defenses go up, it seems love goes down. It is no wonder violence and hatred escalate in places like Iraq, Sudan and elsewhere.

It makes me marvel all the more at the love of Christ for those who brutally, angrily, riotously stripped him naked and took his life on the cross. When the attack was most intense he could yet say, "Father, forgive them."

There is terrible stuff going on in our neighborhood right now. Though our circumstances pale in comparison to other people and places, we feel under attack, and it is changing us.

Father forgive them. Father forgive me.