If you have ever lived in a major hurricane zone — Port Arthur, Texas, and West Palm Beach, Fla., for me — then you know that after the winds die down, the electric trucks (from all over) roll into town, from all over. The same thing is true with relief efforts from major religious groups. We’re talking Southern Baptists, Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, World Vision, Churches of Christ and more.
The second half of that equation usually gets lots of ink the the religious press.
The elite newsrooms? Sometimes, yes. Lots of times, no.
So let’s look at a very interesting Hurricane Ida story from the Associated Press that provided all kinds of religion details about the locals and the people striving to help them: “Louisiana residents thankful for small miracles after Ida.” As a longtime GetReligion reader said, in an email:
This isn't profound, I guess it's just an example of "there, was that so hard?" . ... to report intimately about believers and clergy worshipping after a catastrophe. Frankly I've been kind of overwhelmed by the enormity of the loss in Louisiana — I joined a church relief team to help in Slidell and New Orleans a month after Katrina — and this story brought tears.
But note: This story focuses — with good cause — on the locals and government efforts post-hurricane. That’s a great story. But maybe this needed a word about the other big religion hook in post-storm news?
Meanwhile, here’s the overture:
MARRERO, La. (AP) — Amid the devastation caused by Hurricane Ida, there was at least one bright light Sunday: Parishioners found that electricity had been restored to their church outside of New Orleans, a small improvement as residents of Louisiana struggle to regain some aspects of normal life.
In Jefferson Parish, the Rev. G. Amaldoss expected to celebrate Mass at St. Joachim Catholic Church in the parking lot, which was dotted with downed limbs. But when he swung open the doors of the church early Sunday, the sanctuary was bathed in light. That made an indoor service possible.
“Divine intervention,” Amaldoss said, pressing his hands together and looking toward the sky.
Here is another passage that caught my eye.
Great details. But can you spot one crucial piece of information that is missing here?
As Mass began Sunday, Amaldoss walked down the aisle of the church in his green robe, with just eight people spread among the pews. Instead, the seats brimmed with boxes of donated toothpaste, shampoo and canned vegetables.
“For all the people whose lives are saved and all the people whose lives are lost, we pray for them,” he said. “Remember the brothers and sisters driven by the wind and the water.”
Through the wall of windows behind the altar, beyond the swamp abutting the church, the floodgates that saved the building could be seen. The Gospel was the story of Jesus bringing sight to a blind man, and throughout the tiny church, stories of miracles were repeated.
I’ll ask. Where did all of the donations come from?
A Catholic relief agency maybe? That’s a story. From Southern Baptists perhaps? That’s an even better story, in terms of ecumenical life.
There is much to praise here. But something, to me, seems to be missing.
FIRST IMAGE: Hurricane Ida comes ashore, care of NOAA.