It could be argued that Jeremiah is among the most important books of the Bible.  It could also be argued that it may be the least regularly read books of the Bible (save perhaps for the vast chapters of rules in Leviticus and Dueteronomy).  And the offerings of this prophet could be a path of salvation for a species (human beings) and a planet.

    Listening to Ellen Davis, Professor of Biblical Theology at Duke Divinity School, speak about Jeremiah, the Israelite prophet, caused me to imagine deeply what it takes to see when there is nothing visible.  Jeremiah 'prophesied' (not Nostradamus like, but in the manner of biblical prophesy- speaking to the events of the present) during a 40 year period that witnessed the destruction and exile of the nation of Israel.  He watched political leaders dreamingly believe in their future, inattentive to the signs all around them, thinking they were God's chosen and thus above peril.  He watched the human suffering that resulted from that delusion.  He spoke out and was derided.  He sought to be faithful and has some of the best 'come to Jesus' sessions with God found in the scriptures.  And he believed.

    "When hope steps out on its desperate search for reasons..." Davis quotes.  Jeremiah was desperate enough to search, to believe and to hope.  He was not willing to settle for the warm meal of blame over the inheritance of hope.  He wrestled with what was before him, with that to which he believed God called him, and yet saw and lived for a land, a place, he would never enter.

    What does it take to get desperate enough to hope?  I don't mean desperate enough to wish for something, but to hope, and have a hope that informs, affects our day to day choices.

    When we visited New Orleans last February, it was slightly better than the surreal sight we found a year prior.  There was now electricity in most neighborhoods.  At the same time, those neighborhoods were still sparsely inhabited (an vast understatement) and businesses were about non existent there. 

    As we wrestled to see signs of hope, we heard from some locals about a group of women who determined to see a city which was very much in the distance.  We were able to hear from one of these women and they reminded me of the babushka women of South America, the women who regularly came to village squares with their babushkas on to remind the political leaders that they were women whose husbands and sons had been abducted and were either dead or missing, and to remind them they were not afraid nor were they going to hide.  The babushka women showed up at some risk and stood in the public square proclaiming a city whose existence was beyond sight.

    The 'New Orleans Women' as I will call them, decided to band together to tackle issues undercutting their city.  They decided to take on one issue at a time and to stay focused until some change had occurred.  They showed up in force at meetings, amassed a serious email network and let the officials know they were not afraid, nor would they be deterred.  By the time we visited, they had worked to reduce the number of levee boards in New Orleans from about 13 to 2.  They next sought to reduce the number of parish tax assessors (impressive cronyism even for New Orleans) by about the same number.  They dared to see a city whose sight would be decades in the making.

    So what does it take for us to see?  What does it take for us to become desperate enough to seek reasons for hope, a hope that drives our daily life?

    On this second anniversary of Katrina, may we look to those who are living in desolation and daring to see more.  May we look to those who are living with belief in a place where we hear reports of a vast mental health crisis.  May we look to those who do not settle for the temporary rush of blame, but who are working for a land only seen through the eyes of desperate hope.

Todd Donatelli