OP TION FOR JUSTICEOCTOBER 2006

– MIXED BLESSINGS –AN ACCOUNT OF HOLY WEEK

2006IN NEW ORLEANS

Standing L-R: Kathy Przybylski OP, Maria Goretti Beckman OP, Mary AnnKeough, Mary Donnelly OP, Jeanne Lound Schaller, Joan Alflen, OP.

Seated: Mary Ann Ferguson OP, Jude Bloch OP, Barbara Hansen, OP

Overlooking the city the sight from theplanes seemed rather normal except for themany bright blue “swimming pools” in yardafter yard. As our planes dropped in altitude, itwas obvious that we were not looking at pools.We were looking at thousands of homescrowned with blue tarp “FEMA” roofs.

Therese Leckert, OP (inset) was our NewOrleans contact who lined up opportunities forus and welcomed us to live at the motherhouseof the Dominican Congregation of St. Mary.This photo depicts the interior of Therese’schildhood home. All had been gutted. Eightmonths later standing water still remained.

Our story:told through journal entries,photographs, quotations

and reflections

O God resto

re us!

Ps. 80

We flew to New Orleans on Palm Sunday tovolunteer in the hurricane cleanup effort. Wehad raised $7,000 that we put toward expensesand contributions to those in need.

We prepared and cooked meals for 200“Helping Hands” volunteers who were guttinghomes as part of New Orleans’ Catholic Charitiesvolunteer program.

Sarah Risen-Robertson (on right, in black) was the supervisor directing the meal program.We also cleaned, restocked and rearranged the freezer and storage areas. With the help of donatedmonies, we purchased mops, pails and an industrial can opener for the program.

A Catholic Charities’work site

What can se

parate us

from

Love?

Will afflicti

on, or dis

tress,

or persecu

tion,

or hunger

, or . . .

Rm. 8

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“If Sarah wasn’t cooking up three meals aweek for us, I think I’d pretty much be goinghungry. I can’t see to cook on that littlestovetop in my room.”

We served and ate with the residents atWynhoven apartments for seniors. They sharedstories – stories of displacement for over threemonths to relatives or to temporary shelters inother states. We heard tales of disappointment,for when they returned to their smallapartments within the nine-story residence, theylearned that the kitchen would not be staffeddue to evacuations and a lack of job applicants.

There were stories of answered prayer and goodwill – Catholic Charities agreed to serve three hotmeals each week in exchange for the use of the kitchen to prepare meals for the Helping Hands crew.Sarah Risen-Robertson had different volunteers assist her each day. The food was packed anddelivered to several sites around the city.

“My daughter evacuated me, her boyfriend andthe two dogs and headed for Texas! We made aninteresting group with me in my nineties! Them twodogs kept licking me all the way there! ”

The nine of us plus school principal CynthiaThomas and Therese picked up debris and cutand pulled weeds from the dusty soil in the highschool’s surrounding neighborhood. A nearbysenior housing unit had “HELP” painted on theroof. We were told people had died in thatstructure while waiting to be rescued from theflooding waters.

In the day of distress,I seek Adonai;

my hands reach outin the night.Ps. 77

“Everything is weeds. Weeds coveringthe debris . . . We’re all grateful for yourcleaning up our neighborhood. Most of ushaven’t had time to get to that yet. Ourfamilies and houses come first. Look here, Igutted and redid my whole house - did thedrywall, flooring, electrical work all bymyself. That trailer in my yard? That’swhere my mother-in-law stays. She losteverything.”

“I evacuated with my family and I was in fivedifferent schools before I returned home tomy high school and neighborhood. Rightnow there are four of us living in a FEMAtrailer ‘til our house is fixed up. They say thetrailers will be sent like missiles through the airwhen the next big storm hits. That’s anotherthing we all get to worry about now!”

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We gathered at Dominican High School where900 of the 1,000 young women enrolled hadreturned. Of the 115 original faculty and staff atDominican High, 98 returned. Of those, 35 hadsignificant flood damage to their homes makingthem unlivable.

Students and faculty led the Stations of theCross from the perspective of those who hadsuffered great loss from the flooding. The sincereprayerfulness was evident in the silent, respectfuland tearful response given. “Jesus Take theWheel” and “I Hope You Dance” were amongthe heartfelt songs that were sung like hymns bythe young women.

Over $85 million of New Orleans’Archdiocesan property was lost ordamaged. We toured St. Anthony ofPadua School. There was waterdamage to most of it. Extensiverepairs and clean-up wereaccomplished by many out of statevolunteers. One huge piece of repairwork was to kill the mold in the airconditioning ducts and to sanitizethem. Built-in shelving units in theclassrooms, wooden chairs and tablesalong with wooden Montessorimaterials were not salvageable andall needed to be replaced.

You have loved m

e back

to life,

saved me from

destruction.

Is. 38

St. Anthony’s was one of the first schools toreopen. Fifty percent of the student bodyreturned as classes resumed in January, 2006.Ruth Angelette, OP, the principal, hadexperienced Hurricane Hugo 30 years ago andhad reopened that school. But as she remarked,“I was a lot younger then.”

In the Lakeview district we visited St.Dominic’s Church and School where ChrisFinn, OP and Marty Gleason, OP had tried toride out the storm and where they had beenevacuated by boat from a third floor windowof the priory. The entire property was under12–17 feet of water. Only the church wasback in operation. The bronze front doorsshowed the discoloring that clearly markedthe water lines. In the school, the walls hadbeen stripped to the studs and peeling paint,falling tiles and rusted door jambs all neededattention.

The school was functioning in a buildingsome distance from the parish. The artteacher and students designed a quilt-likedrawing over which a fluer-de-lis was placedand appropriately named Putting Back ThePieces.

Note third floor priorywindows from which twoDominican Priests escapedthe flooding waters

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Flood waters were up tothe fingertips of the statue

of St. Dominic. Note waterlines on doors and statue

as water receded

Ruth Angelette, OP standsbefore the large school

facility telling us about thedamage the structure

sustained

A small schoolbathroom

“This wasn’t just a storm. There are multiplelevels of loss here. Whole neighborhoods aregone and no one knows if the churches, theschools, the stores will come back. Heck, wedon’t even know if our neighbors will return!

So what will happen to us if we rebuild andno one else comes back? No one can offer usany real assurance.”

Inside St. Dominic’s Church was an enlargedmap (note photo on right) of the surroundingneighborhood and a listing of names of people whoplanned to return to the neighborhood. Thisprovided a kind of security and also allowed peopleto pinpoint the street and address of each family/person intending to return to the area. We foundthat other churches were doing the same thing. Itseemed that the churches and schools providedmore emotional support than any governmentalagency ever could.

St. Frances Cabrini Churchand School did not fare aswell as others. The cross,broken but still hanging fromthe steeple, first caught ourattention as we drove near the parish located just outside of theLakeview area. The complex looked like an abandoned piece ofproperty. Throughout the classrooms and halls we saw dusty moldand dirt clinging to walls, chairs, desks, books, bulletin boards andteaching materials. The broken windows charted the levels ofreceding waters. Nothing looked salvageable. Given the extensivedamage throughout this particular area, we wondered if such aparish would ever function again.

Deep is calling to deepas water thunders.

Ps. 42

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Storefronts next door toSt. Dominic’s Parish

“When we saw that the water was just getting higher, we packed up our bikes and rafted out ofour house and down this street. Do you see the corner there? When we rafted around the cornerwe saw a bunch of people standing chest high in the mucky water, all smoking cigarettes andwatching three houses burn down. It was surreal . . . the whole experience was surreal.”

“What good came of it? Well, we know our neighborsnow. I’m no longer afraid to have my son play in front ofour house. We’ve begun to share things with ourneighbors and call people by name. None of that washappening before Katrina.”

We met Margie (in red), the youngest sister ofMary Ann Keough, who gave us a firsthandaccount of evacuating during the flooding. Sheand her family spent time in a FEMA holdingarea - an open space under a freeway abutmentwith hundreds of other evacuees all standing inwater. Many were ill-prepared for the traumaticexperience where there was no assignedauthority. Margie said, “We handed ourselves overto a FEMA camp” after having failed to make it tohigher ground on mountain bikes.

“We did the right thing, but itwasn’t a ‘good’ thing. Ourexperience in the FEMA camp wasnot good at all. We were lookingout for ourselves and for a younggirl who was high school age.

Waters burst forth

from the clouds;

the heavens thun

dered;

the earth trembled and

quaked.

Ps. 77

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Eight months after and we found that everyonehad some kind of Katrina story to tell:

“I thought, what’s that boat doing in frontof that school? Katrina put it there, I think.”

“In my neighborhood all the magnolia treesare gone, bushes and grass too, even thebirds were gone for a long time afterward.”

“In the beginning, when we tried to get backto our home, guards told us we neededdocumentation. Then if we needed to travelto another parish, say to go to the airport, theguards required a different kind ofdocumentation. It was a frighteningexperience.”

“I’m from the 9th Ward. My home is gone.We’re livin’ in a FEMA trailer now. My house,I’ve been back to see it. If I touched it, it’d fallin a heap.”

“We stood in lines for everything. Weapplied five times for FEMA assistance.They kept losing our applications.”

How long will you pursue me,intending to break me down

as if a sagging fenceor a leaning wall?Ps. 62

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We saw many things that were out of place -houses off foundations, cars and boats piledatop one another, roofs smashed and on theground, hundreds of vehicles filled with dried,cracked mud, mold-covered interiors ofbuildings. Like debris hanging from trees, thepeople showed signs of the trauma that hungon their psyches.

“It wasn’t the hurricane that did all the damage,it was the flooding from the broken levees thatkilled my neighborhood. Lots of people havehurricane insurance, but not many have floodinsurance. That’s what ruined us.”

“I just have to think about today. I can’t let myself thinkabout a future. I have only a past and a present now.”

“There were so many things wecouldn’t take with us. They’re alldestroyed and I miss them so much,yet the family is safe and sound.”

“This was not an act of God, this was a humanmiscalculation - a huge, human miscalculation.”

“All I know right now is loss. My prayer isone of loss for my New Orleans.”

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We also heard valiant stories of people whohelped. Those individuals who simply appearedand assisted wherever they could.

“This wonderful carpenter came back weekendafter weekend. He tore out the wet, warpedshelving and built new wooden bookshelvesthroughout our school.”

“I’m an electrician by trade. Every few weeks Itravel to New Orleans and just walk down streetsasking if anyone needs some electrical help.”

“We had gobs of cold food in our coolers, it was ourrestaurant food. We went to the Red Cross but, after twodays of red tape, we decided we’d just put it all in our trailerand distribute it ourselves. People were so grateful.”

“We have about 200 volunteers gutting houses at anyone time. The owners are contacted first and we ask if theywant us to go through their belongings and store what issalvageable. I think deciding about another person’sprivate belongings is the more difficult task for ourvolunteers.”

May your gracious spirit lead me

to ground that is smooth -

in your mercy deliver me.Ps. 143

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A restored preschool classroomat St. Anthony’s School

“See how we’re by this bayou? We’re onhigher ground than our neighbors across thestreet - maybe 8 to 10 feet higher. We had onlya few inches of water and it’s taken us eightmonths to get to the point of moving back in.Look over there, across the street - theyweren’t so lucky and we don’t see much activityover there either. My heart goes out to ourneighbors.”

Both the St. Mary and the Eucharistics noted how significant were the relationshipsdeveloped through the Dominican Alliance. The St. Mary Sisters were housed with theHouston Dominicans; the Eucharistics with the Kentucky Dominicans. Other congregations,including Grand Rapids, sent financial resources and volunteers from Dominicancongregations continue to be graciously welcomed.

I reflect on form

er days,

years long past I

remember.

Ps. 77

“The roses were blooming when wewere finally allowed to return to ourhome. That gave us hope.”

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Twice we went to a bayouneighborhood to help cleanout and clean up the flood-damaged home of theEucharistic Missionaries of St. Dominic, another congregation in our extended Dominican Family.

We followed those who ripped up carpeting and floor boards, tore out wet drywall and wood,sanitized studs and finished the new flooring and walls. Our goal was to clean the furniture, allrooms and closets, put order to patio storage units and pull dead bushes and overgrown weeds inhopes of leaving the house ready to be lived in. But it would take many more hands and moreweeks of work. The Eucharistic Sisters of St. Dominic had permanently moved two of theirleadership to the Kentucky Dominicans as well as their Sisters who were elderly/disabled. Onlythose few Sisters whose ministries were still functioning stayed in New Orleans. This was to betheir Central House.

Early Good Friday morning we took the Greyline bus tour of the city. The company offered thetour because they feared the trauma of Katrina was falling out of the U.S. public eye. The tourwound its way through devastated areas of New Orleans: Lake Ponchartrain Marina, theLakeview neighborhood, the 17th Street and London Ave. Canals where the levees werebreached. The buses were not allowed into the 9th Ward where the flooding caused the mostmassive destruction. We were told that only politicians were allowed to take bus tours throughthat area.

Working on the 17th Street canal

FEMA trailers

A room in a Lakeview district home after the flooding

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“What y’all doing down here in the 9th Ward, ladies?

Will you tell the story using your photographs?

That’s my house over there. It’s all gone - can’t be fixed up.It sat under water too long.”

My dwelling is pick

ed up

and removed from me like a

sheherd’s tent;

like a weaver you

have rolled up m

y life;

you have cut me off fro

m the loom.

Is. 38

We went to see the 9th Ward on HolySaturday morning. All was totaldevastation. There the water’s forcesmashed houses, floated rooftops,overturned trucks and sat engulfing theneighborhood for weeks. Little had beendone to begin cleanup or restoration.

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“The 9th Ward is quiet. You don’t seehardly anybody fixing up their houses. All yousee is those working on the levee thatprobably won’t hold back a flood of waterwith the next hurricane. Can’t find anybodywho can assure me that thing will hold.”

The ghost town atmosphere filled us with asense of loss and sent us looking for signs of apeople whose spirit was stronger than theoverwhelming flood. We noticed painted wordsof desperation pleading that nothing be touchedand stating that they would be back. A smallBuddha and a piece of china were deliberatelyplaced on the fender of a car whose windowswere blown out as if to say that all was not lost.

We became conscious of the lack of sound fromnormal neighborhood activity. We could hear therepair work on the broken levee. Then, in thedistance, we heard the repeated sound of nailsdriven through new shingles and new roofingstuds and boards of a small apartment complexand then there came to us the innocent notes ofchimes in the wind.

I believed even when I spoke,“My suffering is great.”In my confusion I said,

“No one can be trusted.”Ps. 116

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Note the NO BULLDOZING sign on the houseof those expecting to return

Repair work on Industrial Canal in distance, overlooking Ninth Ward.

“My house is gone, gone . . . but I’m blest because I was able to stay with two young men in myfamily. They’re pre med students and I got to know those boys over the months. They helpedme set up housekeeping in an apartment now on the other side of the river.”

“We were so fortunate, our house is gone but the Sisters gave us a place to stay . . .”

“I still live with some kind of fear. The only thing I can do – the only thing anyone can do ishang on to our blessings because there’s nothing else left.”

We were blest to have JimMarchionda, OP as presider forthe Triduum Services. Hispreachings were powerful andtouched us all very deeply.

For the services a wooden cross constructedfrom boards pulled from hurricane debris wasplaced in the chapel. The preaching fleshed outthe Friday ritual of kissing the cross: “The crossis a symbol of torture and our kiss is the gentleresponse of nonviolence in the face of torture.”

At the Last Supper liturgy we were asked tohave our feet washed. It would have been mucheasier had we not been asked to turn our chairsto face the sisters in that community. Each hadher own private suffering of loss, displacementand grief. The preaching was “Eucharistwithout service is not Eucharist.”

We met in the motherhouse courtyard andprayerfully considered the effect of ourindividual experiences. Words were somewhatdifficult for how does one describe a good-bad,poured out-filled up, painfully-wonderfully, lifegiving-life altering experience such as this?

As Dominicans often do, we went to the holywords of our common prayer. The psalms wereprayed in new ways from the gut. “O God,restore us!” and “How long will you pursue me,intending to break me down as if a sagging fence

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or a leaning wall?” were madeso present to us that at timesour prayer together wasoverwhelming. (The scriptureused in this document camefrom our common prayer

during that week.)

The Gospels led us through a torturouspassion. We witnessed it in people who had losteverything and were showing symptoms oftrauma. Yet it was the very same people whotalked about being “blest” because possessionswere not the meaningful gifts that last. Lastinggifts for them were family unity; neighborhelping neighbor; people in FEMA campswatching out for the most vulnerable;volunteers stepping in; non-profits reachingout with resources of support and aid;employers trying to do the right thing for theiremployees and local churches becominginformation centers. There was a faith therethat lifted them well beyond the horrific watersthat hurricanes and undermined canals couldever pour out over them.

For us, to be welcomed to join in another’sexperience of loss was the highest form ofgracious welcome. Surely the call to be aresurrection people is being borne out in boththe volunteer efforts and the graciousacceptance and warm welcome of the people ofthe city of New Orleans.

We end with poetry by Mary and Juderespectively. Perhaps better than prose, thepoems convey the emotion of what we saw andhow we are still trying to make sense of it all.

New Orleans/Good Friday 2006J. Bloch 2006

Her New Orleansremainsa storm-tossed, remnant citywhose indigo tarps on rooftopsflap and clap;whose drowned magnoliasbear anew –“strange fruit”

Traumatic stress settlesagainst Southern foreheads like thorny crownsfor a boarded up,stripped,guttedand marked peoplewho talk about being blest

New OrleansMary Donnelly, OP 2006

Silenceeerie

unnaturaltoo quiet

Destructiondeath

dismaydespair

All is lost

Piles of broken bricks and shattered dreamsare all that remain.

Where to begin?

Glimpses of hope in the midst of destruction

The pounding of a hammerthe voices of children

the tenacity of weedsthe beauty of a spring flower

all speak of the cycle of life, death, resurrection, and new life

That is what I witnessed and felt and was graced withduring Holy Week 2006 . . .

the passion, death and resurrectionenfleshed in the city and the people

of New Orleans.

Send forth your breath,they are recreated

and the face of the earthis renewed.Ps. 104

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(There is a 1-hour Powerpoint presentation of the New Orleans experience appropriate for smallor large groups. Contact Barbara Hansen OP at 616-774-0843 or bhansen@grdominicans.org)