"Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods
drown it..."
The news footage from the Gulf Coast has been something,
hasn't it? The devastation is eerily reminiscent of the tsunami
that devastated South Asia last winter. The one thing I did NOT
see following the Asian disaster was all the gleeful looting.
How sad!
In a way, that might be somewhat expected. During
hurricanes, floods and other natural disasters, those who have
the least to lose are often those who lose the most. Their
dwellings are not as sturdy or safe as others - a huff and a puff
and the house blows down. Poor folks do not live on the
mountainside, they are down in the valley where the floods come.
Then, once the floods finally recede, the destroyed dwellings
remain destroyed because the poor cannot afford insurance. New
Orleans was particularly vulnerable because the poverty rate
there - 28% - is double the national average.
Unfortunately, because of the tepid response by our government, this
disaster has some ugly elements of racism stirred into the mix.
Members of the Congressional Black Caucus have expressed outrage
at the lack of federal action and are blaming it on race. On
that televised concert for hurricane relief on NBC the other
night, one of the entertainers criticized the media's portrayal
of blacks: "I hate the way they portray us in the media. If you
see a black family, it says they're looting. See a white family,
it says they're looking for food."
Someone has pointed out the irony in New Orleans that the
people who normally fill the Louisiana Superdome are those who
can afford the high cost of tickets, parking, and concessions.
But after Katrina, its inhabitants were the poor, especially
children, the elderly and the sick - those with nowhere else to
go. Those with money were nowhere to be seen.(1)
Of course, here in Pennsylvania we know something about
catastrophic floods. May 31, 1889. Johnstown, a steel company
town with a population of about 30,000. Residents were aware
that there was one small drawback to living there - Johnstown had
been built on a flood plain at the fork of the Little Conemaugh
and Stony Creek rivers. Because the growing city had narrowed
the river banks to gain building space, the heavy annual rains
had caused increased flooding in recent years. Add to that the
fact that 14 miles up the Little Conemaugh, 3-mile long Lake
Conemaugh was held on the side of a mountain - 450 feet higher
than Johnstown - by the old South Fork Dam. The dam had been
poorly maintained, and every spring there was talk that the dam
might not hold. But it always had, and the supposed threat
became something of a standing joke around town - it was just
crying "Wolf!"
Then, just after 4:00 on a chilly, wet afternoon, a low
rumble came that grew to a "roar like thunder." After a night of
heavy rains, the South Fork Dam had finally broken, sending 20
million tons of water crashing down the narrow valley. Boiling
with huge chunks of debris, the wall of flood water grew at times
to 60 feet high, tearing downhill at 40 miles per hour, leveling
everything in its path. Thousands of people desperately tried to
escape the wave. Those caught found themselves swept up in a
torrent of oily, muddy water, surrounded by tons of grinding
debris, which crushed some, provided rafts for others. It was
over in 10 minutes. Over 2,200 dead, with many more homeless.
The cleanup operation took years, with bodies being found months,
and in a few cases, years after the flood.
"Why?" people asked. Countless sermons on "The Meaning of
the Johnstown Flood" were delivered in every part of the land for
many Sundays running just as there are sermons everywhere today
in the aftermath of Katrina. One Pittsburgh preacher compared
the "wolf cry" about the dam breaking to those in his
congregation who tired of hearing him on the admonitions of the
Lord. Another said that the lesson was to be ever prepared to
meet thy Maker.
In New York the illustrious T. DeWitt Talmage, using the
93rd Psalm as his text ("The floods have lifted up, 0 Lord, the
floods have lifted up their voice..."), told an audience of some
5,000 that what the voice of the flood had to say was that nature
was merciless and that any sort of religious attitude toward
nature meant emptiness. He said, "There are those who tell us
they want only the religion of sunshine, art, blue sky and
beautiful grass. The book of nature must be their book. Let me
ask such persons what they make out of the floods in
Pennsylvania."
The theme that set the most heads nodding in agreement was
the old, old theme of divine punishment. The story of Noah was
read. ("And God looked upon the earth, and, behold, it was
corrupt...And God said unto Noah, The end of all flesh is come
before me...") This was The Great American Flood; it had been a
sign unto all men, the preachers said, and woe unto the land if
it were not heeded. The steel town had been a sin town and so
the Lord had destroyed it; for surely only a vile and wicked
place would have been visited by such a hideous calamity. That
was a line of reasoning which many people were quick to accept,
for at least it made some sense of the disaster. However, in
Johnstown it met with much amusement because, as anyone who knew
his way about could readily see, the houses of ill repute up on
Green Hill had not only survived the disaster, but were going
stronger than ever. "If punishment was God's purpose," said one
survivor, "He sure had bad aim."(2)
Not a few ministers chose to talk about the spirit of
sympathy that was sweeping the country (similar to what we are
seeing now toward New Orleans). The New York Witness, a
religious newspaper, went so far as to say there was a "loving
purpose of God hidden in the Flood." Folks in Johnstown gagged.
There really was never much mystery in anyone's mind in
Johnstown about the cause of the flood. George Swank spoke for
just about everyone when he wrote, "We think we know what struck
us, and it was not the hand of Providence. Our misery is the
work of man"...that poorly maintained South Fork Dam.
Unfortunately, the tragedy in New Orleans is NOT something
unexpected, despite what the President said. A year ago,
scientists, environmental groups, business leaders, and the U.S.
Army Corps of Engineers all came together in recommending the
Louisiana Coastal Area project. It was costly - up to 14 billion
dollars over 30 years - so the Administration said no.(3) Congress
did not object. Walter Maestri, the Emergency Management chief
for Jefferson Parish, fretted to the Times-Picayune in New
Orleans: "It appears that the money has been moved in the
president's budget to handle homeland security and the war in
Iraq, and I suppose that's the price we pay. Nobody locally is
happy that the levees can't be finished, and we are doing
everything we can to make the case that this is a security issue
for us."(4) So sad.
In the wake of all this, there are some questions that need
answers. For example, if our Department of Homeland Security was
so ill prepared for a natural disaster that everyone knew was
coming, how is it going to deal with something UNexpected?
Something needs fixed! Has the war in Iraq drained the nation of
resources we need for things like basic infrastructure
maintenance and flood prevention? One more reason to get our
folks home. Is the National Guard, with currently a third of its
personnel and half its equipment overseas, ready to handle a
disaster that might be even worse, like a biological or nuclear
attack? As the tabloids say, "Inquiring minds want to know."
Meanwhile, even if Washington's response has been less than
it should be, lots of others have jumped into the breach.
Hundreds of millions in private donations have been pouring in to
relief agencies, and more is on the way. Good.
St Mark's Episcopal Church is in Johnstown. It was there in
1889. The church's rector and his family were among those killed
in the disaster. When the flood waters receded and the church
was cleaned up and reopened, the survivors decided to engrave
upon the altar a verse not commonly carved into altars. We read
it earlier. Song of Solomon 8:7 - "Many waters cannot quench
love, neither can floods drown it." In the wake of the horror in
New Orleans, you and I and the whole world can show that by our
response. Do what you need to do.
Amen.
1. Jim Wallis, Sojourners, sojomail, 8/31/05, www.sojo.net
2. David McCullough, The Johnstown Flood, (New York : Simon & Schuster, 1987,
©1968), pp. 252-253
3. Joel Bourne, "Gone with the Water," National Geographic Magazine, October, 2004
4. Maureen Dowd, "United States of Shame," New York Times, 9/3/05
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