Living in New Orleans, it is easy to experience and witness moments of joy and sadness every day. This dichotomy makes this city what it is: the pushing and pulling of the tide, constantly drifting between celebration and mourning. It is the soul, the underbelly, the ever-present electric current shocking us with its changing attitude. It is a jazz song, switching rhythms and harmonies every second. New Orleans does whatever it pleases, and takes us along for the messy, beautiful ride.
I feel it now more than ever – not just in my personal and spiritual life, but in this city, this country and this world; I feel frustration. I want to be angry at God. I want to yell, “Why have you forsaken [me/us/them]?” It’s hard not to lose faith when it seems as though every truth I believe has fallen into the depths of New Orleans’ unanticipated, mysterious potholes. The world is crying out with divine dissatisfaction, echoing Martin Luther King’s words in 1967.
In the midst of this frustration, I witness many communities of believers from different religious traditions making their divine dissatisfaction known. I see a dark place of hopelessness being illuminated by God’s presence through actions, words and deeds of those who speak on behalf of humanity, justice, love and peace. If we never weep for the injustices experienced by race, gender and religious minorities, immigrants, the poor, trafficked, abused, refused and neglected, how will we learn what it means to love others as we love ourselves? The suffering is our greatest teacher – either personally experienced or seen through the eyes of others with less privilege and freedom.
Like the liturgical calendar, we constantly experience the ebb and flow of life and death. The circular motion leads to repeated searching, preparing and waiting. Advent taught us to be still and rest in chaos, knowing that the teacher of peace would soon be here to guide us in our path to declaring justice for others. From Louisiana to Pennsylvania, signs of light in darkness were found in Christmas decorations, the singing of “Silent Night” and the passing of a “refugees welcome here” sign outside of a Catholic church. Back in New Orleans for the new year, I was feeling post-Christmas sadness, but the singing of “Auld Lang Syne” with the embrace of dear friends reminded me that life is joyful in spite of, in the midst of and in the moment of all the darkness. Epiphany enlightened us with the arrival of King Cakes in every supermarket, celebrating the joy of the newborn Jesus: the brightest light illuminating our blessing path.
As Mardi Gras begins in New Orleans, we dance, sing and laugh in the light and goodness. We are invited into the house of joy when we pay attention to all of the outpourings of love that teach us how to find hope in the suffering until we celebrate the resurrection of Easter.
Hillary Leslie is a second year Young Adult Volunteer currently serving with YMCA Educational Services in New Orleans after a year of church and community volunteering in Belfast, Northern Ireland.
