"Almost to New Orleans" by Rev. Thomas Schade

Tue Feb 19 15:02:01 EST 2008

M I N I S T E R’ S   M E M O
“Almost to New Orleans”
I am writing this on the train to New Orleans on our intergenerational
service trip to New Orleans. To be precise, we are just now pulling into the
city – maybe 30 minutes from arrival. It is dark, so right now, we cannot
see far into the neighborhoods we are passing, but you can sense that it,
too, has been heavily damaged. Only occasionally, can you see a house with a
porch light, or a bright window, but you can sense the darkened shape of
empty houses.

We will be met at the train station by Sierra Marie Gerfao, Bonnie Harmon,
and by the Rev. Melanie Morel-Emsinger, whom you remember preaching in
Worcester on January 5th. They will lead the way to the Carrollton Methodist
Church where we are staying.

When we arrive at the church, a banner on the front door proclaims that they
have served over 42,000 volunteers in their Disaster Recovery Ministry. Make
that 42,035!

It is ironic that we arrive here with Liz Gustavson and Bonnie Harmon who
have coordinated the Interfaith Hospitality Network at our church, in which
we have hosted those without a home. Now we are the guests, sleeping on the
floor here.

Our journey began with a school bus ride from Worcester to New London,
Connecticut where we caught the train for the first leg of the trip to New
Orleans. The trip should have taken about 75 minutes and the planning was
that we would arrive about 45 minutes before our departure. Plenty of time.

The driver was depending on a GPS system (a satellite navigation system) to
find the train station in New London. At about the scheduled time, we were
in downtown New London and some of us even claim to have the seen a sign
pointing the way to the train station parking lot. But inexplicably, the bus
driver turned the other way and led us into the picturesque regions of New
London. Then we drove by the campus of Connecticut College and then into
some of the town’s more leafy neighborhoods. And then, we were getting onto
395 headed north to Worcester.

I don’t have any real insight into why the bus driver got lost. Was the GPS
giving her wrong information, or was she misinterpreting its directions, or
had some malevolent force intervened in the situation to foil our plans? I
don’t know, but all of us understood that heading north on 395 while we were
still on the bus was a bad move.

It is an interesting experiment in human behavior and group dynamics to be
among 35 people who are powerless passengers on a vehicle going in the wrong
direction. (Any political metaphors you may wish to insert here are your own
responsibility.)

First of all, there is the stage of murmuring – an undercurrent of whispered
comments that “this doesn’t seem the right way.” And “weren’t we already
here?”

And then there is a stage of checking watches and calculations as to whether
we have lost enough time to be unable to make the train on time.

Quickly, the group divides into three factions. The first group assumes that
everything is going to be fine. How do they know this? No real evidence, but
the unshakeable faith that things usually work out. “All will be well and
all manner of things shall be well,” said one of the mystic saints.

A second group assumes that the train will be missed and the only really
interesting questions are what we are going to do next. Will we try to
streak to New York and make the next leg of the trip? I have to admit that
pessimist as I can be, I was already composing, in my head, the sad and wise
consolations that I would say to the group as we watched the tail lights of
the train vanish down the track. Something along the lines of facing
adversity and digging deep to accept the imperfections of our fellow humans.

A third group concludes that it is still possible to make the train, but
something must be done right now (!) to get on the right track again.
Unfortunately, there are different opinions of what should be done, and what
should be said, and who should do it.

It is a testament to the maturity of our group that we did not devolve into
a tense and screaming mob arguing over the right course of action. For the
most part, we trusted David Blodgett to talk with bus driver and get us on
track. He assured us that everything was under control, although his face
was bright red. He gave a perfect imitation of a calm person feeling no
pressure.

Well, we made the train station with about sixty seconds to spare, and ran
from the bus to the train, without leaving anyone or anything behind. After
that, the whole trip down has been a breeze.

What the week ahead will bring, we do not know. We are doing a wider variety
of projects – everything from laying out baseball diamonds in the
playgrounds, to building community gardens to working with community
organizations. We will learn much, I am sure, and be changed by what we
learn. It is a great opportunity to touch, even in a small way, one of the
great dramas of our time in our country’s history: the destruction of one of
our great cities, and the great outpouring of help from across the country
for its recovery. There will be some wonderful stories to share in the weeks
ahead.

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