When Birds Come Back: A Sermon on the Gulf Coast Environmental Crisis
by Rev. Dr. Marie
deYoung
Delivered to the South Jersey UU Congregation on May 16, 2010
and to the Gulf Coast UU Fellowship on May
23, 2010
Once, having
spent a particularly bleak winter in Northwest Missouri, my neighbor invited me to take a walk on the “Lake of Three
Fires.” “I have a surprise for you,” she said to me, knowing I was
a graduate student in a town far away from my friends and family. We drove thirty miles, crossed into Iowa, passing many sturdy
barns and llamas and horses before we arrived at a serene, calm, vast shimmering lake.
As we approached the lake from afar, we could see thousands of Canadian geese,
stopping for their rest and lunch. They ignored us as they played and honked and we walked around the lake
and meditated on the miracle we knew we were experiencing: After months of deep snows and harsh, battering
winds, spring had arrived. How do you know when spring days have arrived in Iowa and Northwest Missouri?
“These are the days when birds come back.”
Growing up on a street of duplexes in Philadelphia, I recall that our lives were graced with blue
jays, and robins, and sparrows and pigeons by the thousands. The birds nested in our mature maple trees,
high enough to be safe from the freely wandering cats and dogs below. There were no air-conditioners
in those days – just canvas awnings, and metal gliders to create a breeze as you rocked back and forth on a summer evening.
Those gigantic maple trees not only nested the birds who sang us to sleep each night and chirped their invitations
for us to run out to the streets to play in the morning – these maple trees cooled our homes, too. On
hot sticky nights, the sweet bird songs and swaying maple trees cooled our spirits as we played 500 rummy and war and Old
Maids on our porch.
Big cities were much greener in those days. Even row house
neighborhoods were tree-lined, and with so many immigrants from other countries and from rural Pennsylvania, we knew how to
care for our birds. We fed them crumbs and suet in the winter, threw extra grass seed in our spring gardens,
left the worms and bugs in our soil for their delight, and we tacked oranges and cloves to our trees to attract hummingbirds.
And, when robins and blue jays appeared each year, alighting on our garden tulip trees, our mothers
would sometimes weep with delight. They knew at last, spring was here.
“These are the days when birds come back.”
I spent the last few years in New Orleans and Gulfport Mississippi and in the heart of French Cajun
Country: Evangeline Parish in Louisiana.Of course, I wanted to do my part to help restore New Orleans to its former glory.
If you’ve never been to New Orleans, you must put this wonderful city
on your agenda. The magnificent massive magnolias are year-round homes to thousands of birds.
It
is no wonder that New Orleans became our music capital – every hour of the day is marked with bird songs that tell you
what time it really is…
For a time, though, the birds were driven away from New Orleans.
During my first year of Katrina recovery work, residents often recounted to me that after Hurricane
Katrina, all of the trees and plants turned brown from the toxic soup that poured into the city when the levees broke and
Mr. Go failed to protect 80 percent of the homes, gardens, businesses – when all these were submerged in that toxic
soup, -- the birds flew away to safety.
My neighbors and colleagues often lamented that
during that first year or so after the levees broke, there were no birds to sing the people into hope. There were no blue
jays, no mallards to flaunt their courage, giving the residents a dauntless capacity to embrace each day – whatever
would come. Natives of New Orleans and the Gulf Coast will tell you, the city, the whole coastline
was depressed.
But, in the second year, magnolias and azaleas bloomed everywhere.
It was so much easier to do the work of clearing, and cleaning and rebuilding. And the city sang
with joy when her birds returned to feast on the wild bugs and green twigs and seeds that began to burst forth again:
“These are the days when birds come back.”
Spring did return. Hope was restored.At some point, I needed
to rest from my work in New Orleans, and so, I moved to the heart of Cajun country, where rice, and crawfish, and sweet potatoes,
and yams, and soy and pecans are grown.
The birds never left Cajun country after Hurricane Katrina -- not even after the massive destruction
of Hurricane Rita. Wild birds seem to find Cajun banjos, and the larger than life azaleas, and crawfish
ponds a perfect habitat – even after Mother Nature’s storms wreak terrible havoc on human made structures.
The respite was great, but there was still work
to do. While enjoying the wildlife of this oasis in western Louisiana, I continued to support Gulf Coast
recovery in a very small way.
Since 2008, I have been volunteering as the consultant minister for the Gulf Coast UU Fellowship in Mississippi.
I stumbled upon this fellowship quite by accident, having traveled to Mississippi to walk the beaches and visit the
wildlife there.
I did not know,
until traveled to Gulfport for a weekend of respite, that 23 miles of Mississippi coastal communities were devastated by Hurricane
Katrina. As it turns out, our UU fellowship in Gulfport Mississippi lost more than half of its
membership – because many of the members who lost everything in the storm could not afford to stay
long enough for their jobs to return, their homes to be rebuilt.
They lost everything in that natural disaster. The rebuild is taking a lot longer, but,
it is happening -- one home, one business at a time.
Our UU congregation,
small as it is, stayed on the Gulf Coast of Mississippi, and continued to plan for a future UU home in Southern Mississippi.
They purchased land on high ground –
which means it is easily insured, and not likely to be affected by flood or storm. Our land is rich with
protected habitat, and someday, our members hope to build a beautiful church as you have done here in South Jersey –
reverencing the environment by careful building a sanctuary that gives back more than it takes.
One
thing that gives Katrina survivors in Mississippi such great comfort: the birds and the habitat. The
birds never left Gulfport and Biloxi Mississippi after Hurricane Katrina – because these coastal communities were not
overrun with toxic sludge.
The two
acts of God-- hurricane winds and the humungous surge of Gulf Coast waters – wreaked damage in a flash, and then these
awful destroyers disappeared. But the damage to the community was horrific, none
the less.
When I first
visited the Mississippi Gulf Coast, I was amazed at the courage of those who were striving to rebuild – more safely,
of course – these towns and retreat areas. The 23-mile swath of destroyed homes, churches, businesses,
community centers would have weakened my resolve to stay. But, those who love the land in Mississippi,
those who love the water, the birds – they remained.
The sandhill cranes, the woodpeckers,
Least Terns and Black Skimmers – these birds are the prophets of hope to our friends on the Gulf Coast.
The birds, the turtles, the dolphins that can be seen off shore near the barrier islands – these birds and fish
and the habitat give our Coastal people a great sense of joy and comfort, a great confidence in their purpose to restore the
marshes and wetlands and habitats that are scattered across the region.
Sometimes
I think our nation seems to have forgotten the people in Mississippi who lost everything when Katrina destroyed her coastline.
But the folks who stayed, our UUs who remained there, they are very resilient. And their resilience
goes back 50 years, to the time when they established our UU presence in Southern Mississippi:
-They
kept their church going after it was firebombed because they supported Civil Rights workers.
-They kept their church going through many economic
down turns.
-They keep
their community alive, and they are building a church home for the next generation – much as your fellowship has done
here in South Jersey.
But now,
the Mississippi Coast, and perhaps our Atlantic Coast line is threatened with toxic sludge. I pray that we have the resilience, the fortitude
to deal with this threat.
As it turns out, the acts of God were not enough to destroy the hope, the dreams of the communities
that live in Biloxi and Gulfport. Winds may blow away a building, but the Mississippi songbirds keep their
hope alive. Floods may sweep away their cottages and garden vegetables, but the Mockingbirds help the people
to chase their sorrows away.
As it turns out,” acts of God” are not enough
to destroy the birds. Winds and Waters may rage, but they won’t keep the birds away.
But, the acts of humankind – the acts of humankind can destroy us all. We read every day about the impending
threat of the gushing oils that are despoiling the waters, the habitat at the bottom of the Gulf.
Since the time I have spent in Louisiana and Mississippi, I have
learned to be circumspect – not to rush to judgment about the causes, or the necessary outcomes when disasters strike
the region. But, I believe it is necessary for us to break these
catastrophes down into two types: natural disasters and human-made catastrophes.
The oil rig disaster that threatens to
destroy the entire coast of the Gulf was not wrought by winds or other “acts of God.” This
disaster happened because too many companies involved in this massive drilling project lacked oversight.
More
importantly, the leaders in these companies seem to have abandoned their consciences. They opted for quick profits over safety.
Consequently, eleven human lives were lost, and countless birds, fish, turtles, and other forms of life at the bottom
of the Gulf will be lost, too.
So far, thank goodness, the Mississippi coast line has not been deluged with
a toxic soup of crude and other chemicals, but the economy has been devastated for the second time. Why?
Because this catastrophe has made the Mississippi Gulf Coast a destination unpalatable to those who seek comfort by walking
with the wild birds along the deep quiet silvery waters of the Gulf Shore.
We
are blessed, in New Jersey, to enjoy some protection of our wild life, our shores from hazardous industries. But,
I believe this tragedy could have happened to us, just as easily as it did to Louisiana and Mississippi.
We are blessed to be part of a faith community that treasures our habitat, including our songbirds
and soaring honking geese. Mindful of these blessings,
I believe our knowledge is deep enough to recognize the critical need to protect our helpless wildlife – not from the
ravages of natural storms, but from the recklessness of human business leaders who put a quick dollar ahead of the safety
of workers. Not from “acts of God” but from the greed of executives who will protect their
profits at all costs, and unnecessarily sacrifice the habitat, the wild life that gets in their way.
It would be my hope, as we go out into the world after this service, having celebrated the beautiful
species of birds that chose to visit with you during your stay here-- It is my hope that we will be mindful
of our power, our responsibility, to do something to protect the birds everywhere – including the Gulf Coast of Mississippi.
We’ve started by making our buildings and our cars energy efficient.
May we find the time, each day not only to hear the
chirps, the calls of the delightful birds who give us hope and joy each day. May we also find the time
to sing out, to shout out cries for their safety.
Our birds must be protected. They
give us joy. They give us hope. They give us song.Protect them
now. Protect them on the Gulf coast, because after the harsh snows and winds of winter, we need for our
birds to comeback in Spring.So
may it be.
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