A flood of biblical proportions

"My eyes fail from weeping. I am in torment within, my heart is poured out on the ground because my people are destroyed, because children and infants faint in the streets of the city. What can I say for you? With what can I compare you, O Daughter of Jerusalem? Your wound is as deep as the sea. Who can heal you?"

These words of lament were written by the prophet Jeremiah as he wept over Jerusalem, utterly destroyed by the Babylonians some 2,600 years ago.

It seems that only such biblical imagery can begin to indicate the magnitude of the devastation that has been visited upon New Orleans and the Gulf Coast. This is indeed like the biblical destruction of Babylon, or Nineveh, or Jerusalem. The Washington Post's lead editorial Sept. 1 called it "The Great Flood of '05," and that is perhaps the most appropriate allusion; for this was the destruction of an entire city by a deluge of water, like what happened in the days of Noah.

Third World country

Many are dead. No part of the city has been spared. Those who moved did so in waist-deep, rancid floodwaters mixing sewage, fuel and the bloated bodies of the dead. Thousands were trapped inside or on top of their homes. Tens of thousands of refugees need long-term resettlement. Looting and gunfire became daily occurrences as public order broke down.

Every one of the city's institutions is affected: Think of every home, every school, every church, every government office, and every business in your community, and imagine if they were all wiped out in a single day.

The only modern parallels are last year's tsunami in Southeast Asia and the wars of many parts of the world. A significant and historic section of our nation is now akin to what we comfortable Americans tend of think of as a "Third World country." We have our own internal Sudan, or Kosovo, or Indonesia, right here in the United States.

The human mind is a powerful instrument, but it does stagger when faced with the task of assimilating data that do not fit within its customary categories. This is why there is usually a lag time between when catastrophe strikes and when people get organized to respond to it. For it is hard to know how to respond to something that you don't even have words to describe or understand.

By the end of the week of the Great Flood of '05, the national community had begun offering a response. Search and rescue came first. Securing public order came second, but by Sept. 1 it was clear that it had to become the first priority amidst looting and gunfire. Congratulations are in order to the state of Texas and the city of Houston for their magnificent act of hospitality in offering to welcome as many as 25,000 Superdome refugees. Every town and city within 750 miles of New Orleans should likewise consider what it can do to shelter refugees.

All levels of government face a stern test in this moment, but especially the federal government, which alone has the resources to even begin to address this catastrophe. It is moments like this that remind us why we pay such a substantial portion of our income in taxes. How easy it is to demagogue taxes, until we see that they are the price we pay to live in community rather than in chaos and isolation. It is how the human community funds its efforts to organize itself to secure the common good.

Two questions

In times of crisis, after making the best response we can to the situation at hand, we usually then begin to ask two questions: "Why did this happen?" and "Who is at fault?" The first question often turns us in agonized wonder in the direction of God. The second often turns us against one another.

Many are asking both questions. These are important discussions. But there will be time for both. For now, the better part of wisdom is for all of us to look for ways to participate in the rescue, relief and rebuilding that will be needed in days and months and years to come.

David P. Gushee is the Graves Professor of Moral Philosophy at Union University in Jackson, Tenn.