Captive Israel

Last night, I went with some of my roommates to a Taize service nearby. If you're unfamiliar with a Taize style service, it's a service of music and silent meditation.

We walked into the chapel to find it full of candles. The first song we were in there to sing was "O Come Emmanuel."

I know this song--I've sung it all my life, I have the words memorized. But last night, repeating the first verse in a chapel filled with flickering candlelight, I heard the words in a new way.

O come o come Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel


In hearing this song, I realized that to me, Israel is now New Orleans. And New Orleans is captive--captive by crooked politicians who sit on federal money and refuse to rebuild. Captive by federal contractors who condemn and demolish sturdy buildings and replace them with shacks. Captive by a devastating housing crisis and crime rates among the highest in the nation. Captive by a levee system only repaired to pre-Katrina strength.

But like Israel, there is joy and beauty in New Orleans. It's a city of joy and love, commradire and struggle. It's a place of music and history. It's a place where people at two seperate tables who have never met strike up a conversation and share their wine.

Rejoice! Rejoice
Emmanuel shall come to thee
O Israel


Emmanual--God with us--comes to this city each time a church opens a food pantry. Each time there is a meeting to struggle for a viable public health care option. Each time there is a festival of music. Each time a community of worshipers comes together regardless of race, class, gender identification or language, God is with us.

And through the captivity, through the struggle, through the fear, God is with us.

Emmanuel.