See, I am sending an angel ahead of you to guard you along the way and to bring you to the place I have prepared. Pay attention to him and listen to what he says. Do not rebel against him; he will not forgive your rebellion, since my Name is in him. If you listen carefully to what he says and do all that I say, I will be an enemy to your enemies and will oppose those who oppose you.
-Exodus 23:20-23
When calamity, sorrow, and need visit, it is our logical inclination to fix. And when the calamity is beyond our ability to fix, and we are frustrated; we fall to our knees and cry “Help me Lord, Fix me!” As presaged in our meditation a week ago, the devastation in Appalachia and the Ohio Valley is Biblical in scale and the suffering is heartbreaking. We "children of Katrina" want to pull on our white boots and go fix. It was done for us, after all.
There is a place and a call for some of us to head north with our gray truck and start cooking. I also know, as a child of Katrina, that our new-born, storm-siblings, the children of Helene; will need us to ask, “Oh dear, so how’d ya make out…” , when we hear their zip code. We will need to listen to their stories until they are finished. They will need to bleed out the sorrow and loss and loneliness that will linger inside. We know because we had to do it too.
In their stories we will hear the times they encountered the angels the Lord is sending before them. The ground on which they walk is messy, dangerous, and sacred. It is where God is doing God’s best and most personal work. As we discovered, angels don’t always wield shovels and nail guns. Sometimes they just dance for us to remind us where hope and meaning come from.
In March 2006 there were still gray, ghost cars all over the city. We went to The Spotted Cat to hear some Gospel/Gipsy Jazz played by the remnants of a group called Va-Va-Voom. The only light in the house was the the neon Spotted Cat sign. beer signs, and a few dull spots. It had been raining and the door to Frenchman Street was open. The wet sidewalk reflected the light of passing cars into the bar. The band was in the middle of a Klezmer waltz, a take on Just a Closer Walk With Thee. Two couples danced.
A tall elegant black man in a floor length duster and a fedora hat appeared in the door. He was in silhouette with a broom in his hand. He stepped onto the dance floor and began waltzing with his broom as he swept the dance floor in whirling glissade steps, pushing the dirt toward the open door as his coat spun out into wings. At the end of the song he stooped to pick up a single pigeon feather, which he picked up and pushed into the leather band of his fedora. He made one more turn with his broom toward the door, stepped into the door and bowed to the room lifting his hat to us. A car passed and lit him fro his back. He was gone.
We had seen no living creatures for months. He foretold the return of birds, he reminded us of the importance of a return to grace and beauty, in music and dance. He celebrated the gift of keeping our side of the street clean, all to the music of the One with whom we seek a closer walk. Even in calamity.
Musical Reflection - Elaine Hagenberg, You Do Not Walk Alone
Great Savior, thank you for the angels you send before us. Incline us to listen to what they say and heed their call to the sacred ground of suffering. Amen.
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