Attachments, Hubris, and Katrina

Thus far, officials in the state of Mississippi have said that the Hurricane Katrina death toll is 220. They've been able to positively identify 95 of the bodies. Most of the identified victims were killed by thirty-foot storm surges that went miles inland, trapping them in attics, washing them out of their second-story perches, or subjecting them to falling debris.

This morning's New York Times also reports that:

In the days and hours before Hurricane Katrina arrived, [family members] spoke with relatives and friends who pleaded with them to go, and many had the means to do so. But having survived Hurricane Camille, which killed at least 131 Mississippians in 1969, they apparently never believed that this new storm could be worse.

A few of the dead had understandably refused to evacuate because of frail loved-ones who were unable to be moved without assistance from others. Some wouldn't leave because it would require leaving pets behind. These conditions weren't faced by all of the known victims though.

In fact, this morning, as I read the Times' descriptions of some of the deceased, I felt a rising sense of incredulity. I simply couldn't fathom the decisions of many to ignore evacuation orders.

Among the dead were accomplished, intelligent people who had the means to easily escape. Yet they decided to try riding out what forecasters were telling them could be a Category Five storm.

Why?

For some, it seems that it was because of their attachments to places--to their homes, to familiar haunts in their communities, to their neighbors.

None seemed to give any thought to the fact that within moments after it made landfall, Katrina was likely to wipe out the houses and communities from which they drew so much comfort. Their neighbors who hadn't sensibly evacuated were all soon to die too. The decisions they made to ride Katrina out then, was a bit like a person who, having assumed that his position with a corporation was permanent, is flummoxed when he's "right sized" out of work.

Nothing is permanent in this world. This is why Jesus tells the story of two householders. One built his house on sand and the other on rock. When a storm came along, the house built on sand was flattened, while the house built on the rock stood. In another part of the New Testament, a man named Peter reminds followers of Jesus that we're nothing more than fleeting aliens and refugees in this world. So, it's best not to become too attached to our comforts here.

There can be, I think, a kind of hubris in the decisions of coastal peoples to ride out hurricanes in spite of evacuation orders. They seem to exhibit the same heedlessness to reality that you see in teenagers who, in spite of all the warnings, think that they can drink themselves into stupors, drive at blinding speeds, and yet remain perfectly safe on highways.

It isn't so much that these people believe they're immortal; it's that, because they've never experienced it, they can't imagine a world in which they aren't thriving. They believe that they have the mettle to survive nature's worst or that even if others lose their faculties in disastrous circumstances, they will still in control.

In fact, that may be the ultimate hubris: The notion that we are in control.

According to the Bible, it was the desire to be in control that caused the original human ancestors, Adam and Eve, to rebel against God and begin the human war with God, a war that only ends when we willingly receive the compassion, forgiveness, and leadership of Christ. "You won't die if you eat of this fruit that makes you conversant with both good and evil," the serpent told Eve. "No, you'll be like God." We've been foolishly chasing after that goal ever since.

After telling the story of the two householders, Jesus said that He is the strong Rock on which to build our lives. For Jesus' original hearers, the implications of that statement would have been unmistakeable. In Jewish thought, rocks were the most ancient of God's creations. Modern geology would support that notion. To both the ancient Hebrews and to us, the image of the rock carries the idea not just of solidity and firmness, but of resilience.

When you rely on God, you can be bold, but you don't take unnecessary risks. Once, Jesus was tempted by the devil. He took Jesus to the pinnacle of the Temple in Jerusalem. Citing passages of Scripture that affirmed God's willingness to protect us, he dared Jesus to jump. Citing another passage, Jesus said, "It's not right to tempt God." Sure, Jesus was saying, God will protect His people. But God hasn't rescinded the law of gravity and if we're going to violate it, we must also accept the decided possibility that things won't go well for us.

Now, having said all this, some may think that I'm unfairly judging those who decided to ride out Katrina in spite of evacuation orders. Let me tell you, I've done many stupid things in my lifetime. I've taken ill-advised risks that might have cost me my earthly life. The delusion of permanence and the sense of hubris are very common human attributes.

But what I'm learning is that it's better to build a life on the rock of Christ than on the quicksand of my own cleverness or the comforts of home. Martin Luther wrote a hymn, A Mighty Fortress is Our God, in the popular musical style of his day, the words to which are based on Psalm 46 in the Old Testament. The psalm says:

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.

Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea;

though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble with its tumult.

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy habitation of the Most High.

God is in the midst of the city; it shall not be moved; God will help it when the morning dawns.

The nations are in an uproar, the kingdoms totter; he utters his voice, the earth melts.

The LORD of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge. Selah

Come, behold the works of the LORD; see what desolations he has brought on the earth.

He makes wars cease to the end of the earth; he breaks the bow, and shatters the spear; he burns the shields with fire.

"Be still, and know that I am God! I am exalted among the nations, I am exalted in the earth."

The LORD of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge.

Among the most important lessons to take from Katrina is for us not to fall too in love with our surroundings. Change is the only real constant in this world. But the God we know through Jesus Christ is around forever. No matter what storms may sweep us away in this life--and all of us will one day be swept away, when we build our lives on Christ, we're guaranteed to experience life with God forever. I'm going to try to remember that today.

[Also see the following posts:
Biblical Resources for Sufferers and Observers of Suffering
When Tragedy Hits the Innocent, Part 1
When Tragedy Hits the Innocent, Part 2
When Tragedy Hits the Innocent, Part 3
When Tragedy Hits the Innocent, Part 4
The Light of the World!]