What does it matter?

“Then the disciples came and asked him, ‘Why do you speak to them in parables?’ He answered, ‘To you it has been given to know the secrets (or mysteries) of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it has not been given. For to those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.’” Matthew 13:10-12, NRSV

I find it really hard trying to wrap my mind around the slings and arrows that man and woman and child are called to suffer. Yes, I understand about choices. It was choice, perhaps generations old, that led people to inhabit flood-prone areas along the Mississippi—be they farmers, who have banked their livelihood here, or people who for the lack of a different plan simply live here—here where the swollen and angry river is now reclaiming its own. Choices are being made to sacrifice less populated areas to save more populated areas.

Who among us wants to explain to William Jefferson, who lives near Vicksburg, Mississippi, about his family’s poor choices? “It’s almost like being shot in the heart…I’m about out of prayers. Don’t know. Just wait.” That’s what Mr. Jefferson said when he was interviewed on the national network news. Like many others, everything he owns is being swept away by the river.

“Can’t just watch everything go away. Gotta fight.” So explained another resident along the river in Louisiana. We watch the news footage of people packing the belongings they have decided they don’t want to live without. How does anyone decide? Family photos and other family treasure, legal documents? We watch communities coming together to pile bags of sand in an effort to stay the river as it intends to lay its claim. “Can’t just watch everything go away. Gotta fight.”

If you have to say something, please don’t call this an act of God. And please don’t remind us that it’s all about choice. It is first and foremost about loss. Soon the river will make its way to the Gulf—having left a path of destruction in its wake—and soon the national news will go on to other stories. Many of us who have watched this separated by hundreds of miles from the scene will open our pocketbooks to contribute to some organization whose sole purpose is to come to the aid of people in times of upheaval and loss. Many of us individually and collectively will offer prayers for the victims. It is what we do. Will we really understand? Does it really matter? Reaching out to one another is sometimes what we do best. That does matter.

What does it matter?—Albuquerque, New Mexico (May 13, 2011)

R. Harold Hollis