This Jewish Life: Down in New Orleans

I have never experienced such a diverse array of emotions as when I was in New Orleans this past week.  From excitement to disappointment, devastation to hope, exuberance to exhaustion, hopeful to discouraged, inadequate to useful-every ephemeral emotion was overwhelming.

The main purpose of my trip was for a meeting of the Commission on Social Action (CSA), the Union for Reform Judaism's policy-making body. My co-workers and I also managed to clear our schedules for a couple of days so that we could have a mini-vacation before the meeting actually started.

These first two days were a great taste of New Orleans culture.  We sat in the warm Louisiana sun listening to zydeco music, walked along Bourbon Street with fruity drinks in our hands, and ate beignets at various cafes throughout the city.  Like many people have described the city, it certainly felt like a European enclave in the middle of the South. 

During the CSA meeting, we explored the parts of New Orleans that were most affected by Hurricane Katrina and the rush of water that broke through the levees.  We took a bus tour around the city visiting sites of devastation and meeting incredible people who were taking part in the efforts to rebuild.  Despite the large numbers of people who seem to be involved with rebuilding, progress is happening incredibly slowly.

Certain neighborhoods and communities, especially those close to the levees, are still completely devastated and abandoned.  They almost seem like ghost towns.  As you drive down the streets, you can't help but imagine the people who used to live in the gutted homes.  Where are these people now?  What did they lose?  Who did they lose?

The most powerful stop on our New Orleans tour was at a modern orthodox synagogue that had been submerged under 10+ feet of water.  Every religious object in the building, including hundreds of tallitot and three sacred Torah scrolls were drowned and destroyed by the waters.  For some reason, I was particularly struck by the devastation in the synagogue.  It felt personal.  The synagogue could easily have been my synagogue and the Torah scrolls could have been the ones that I carried at my Bat Mitzvah. 

I didn't have the same feelings when I was driving through the neighborhoods looking at homes.  I was shocked, angered, disappointed and disheartened, but I didn't feel like I was able to empathize.  Only in the synagogue could I envision the incredible spirit of the community before it was devastated. 

To be honest, I am still processing all of the emotions that I had on this trip and figuring out now to translate my thoughts and feelings into actions.  I know that I want to help--somehow.  But, I haven't yet figured out how.  We as a country have not yet figured out how.   And we must.  In the words of Mitch Landrieu, Lieutenant Governor of Louisiana, saving New Orleans is not just a question of saving the people affected by the hurricane, it is a matter of redeeming ourselves.

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