My Neighbor, Across Town

This is a city of good people.

When the worst happens, as it did here one week ago tomorrow night, much is revealed to us and about us. In the wake of those horrific churning tornadoes, we have seen not only images of destruction and stories of suffering and death, but also of the good works of people we don’t know or commonly notice. 

With all respect to James Agee: Let us now praise men and women who deserve to be famous but are not – the neighbors helping neighbors, no matter anyone’s zip-code, title or position. All those who become more visible to us all in a hard time like we’re going through now.

·      The first responders going door-to-door in darkness, asking about the missing, searching for the hurt, pulling them free of crushing debris that used to be safe bedrooms.

·      Utility crews doing the dangerous work of clearing downed power lines from sidewalks, yards and streets.

·      Regular citizens pitching in by the hundreds, bringing along whatever they have on hand – claw-hammers, crowbars, chainsaws, and also strong arms and stout backs.

·      And all the professionals from the city’s nonprofit agencies, and remember their donors, too. Without philanthropy, the work of our essential nonprofit organizations is never a given. Such is the social infrastructure of how our modern city works.

To my eye, the most impressive scenes of the past week have been all the volunteers, the Nashvillians who are turning out in great numbers in this time of great need.

You never know who will show up, who will be there in the morning to make God’s work their own. Not until the skies clear and the forgotten sun comes up again. Only then do we see, up and down every wrecked streetscape, the good people who interrupt their own routines, who inconvenience themselves to come forward, and do the hard work of recovery and maybe salvation.

They have included students, young marrieds. singles, and seniors. They come to work, period, and others come to feed them and give them rest and cool water. Because first responders and volunteers grow tired, hungry and thirsty doing this exhausting work to make the community whole again.

And they all – both the victims in need and the volunteers who come to their aid – otherwise live in every corner of our city. We should remember especially that, you and I, when all this is over. That won’t be for awhile, so note now that they have come from all parts of the city to help out.

Nashville is a big patchwork that reminds me of my grandmother’s quilts that we cherish in my family: All those pieces of fabric of many colors, each with a story from a different place, stitched together into a whole that becomes something beautiful and gives us warmth. It is this, specifically, that shows up in Nashville at a time of trial like this. What you see in all those news photos are people coming together, across all kinds of lines, to help our city heal.

I remember one morning, back in 2006, hearing my friend Pastor Enoch Fuzz deliver a benediction at a Chamber of Commerce breakfast downtown. The occasion was Mayor Bill Purcell’s State of Metro Address. In the hall were the usual suits and swells from their sundry office buildings. 

Fuzz, on the other hand, has been the pastor at Corinthian Baptist Church since 1986, and he works much closer to the streets. He began his prayer with a call for understanding and peace around the world and for the world’s leaders, but then he invoked the names of Nashville neighborhoods.

“Lord, bless Bordeaux and Belle Meade, Bellevue and Bell Shire,” he said. “Bless Whites Creek Pike and West End Avenue. Bless Herman Street and Hillsboro Road. Make us all become a blessing.”

I remember thinking the good pastor’s prayer was running a little long; people had places to be, you know. Then I realized what he was doing: By calling out the many neighborhoods that Nashvillians call home, Pastor Fuzz was lifting us up to remember to love one another across the city – not only the neighbor next door but also the family on the other side of town.

It was a unifying prayer and a blessing to remember, even now. We might all say it, together, on this very morning of recovery and a thousand scenes of neighbor helping neighbor, each of us in need of the other.