Los Angeles: An American Diaspora

 We’ve watched live coverage of peoples forced from their homelands. Political coups. Old debts begging a payoff. We’ve seen people running for their lives, forced out of what once was a home, other places of welcome. We’ve watched this from a distance, nestled in safe homes, tsk-tsking, even as we dress for work or school or shopping with friends. It usually happens quickly. And it’s always somewhere else. Until it isn’t.

Disruption.
Dislocation.
Disconnection.
Diaspora.

Some 200,000 people in greater Los Angeles and vicinity were rendered homeless in a matter of hours last week, thrust from their homes and their patterns, while looking for shelter, finding friends, hearing the latest news. The outcome was not the one they wanted.

Twenty-four* people lost their lives. Sixteen* are still missing. Others lost not just homes but also identities, histories, legacies, estates, fortunes for the next generations.

Even if, and that’s a very big if, insurance can adequately cover the cost of rebuilding or relocating, consider the massive bureaucracy required to process it all, and the weeks, months, years it will take. Not to mention sufficient work force to rebuild and an adequate supply chain to meet the needs in a timely way.

If we take what Isaiah writes seriously, and not simply get lost in the mire of devastation, what do hope and encouragement look like to people who have lost “everything?” It’s not a question for simply ancient Israel or 2025 Los Angeles. It plays in ordinary days, too, because every day, somewhere, someone has lost everything. And you and I may be the only people near who can help them find hope again.

*Number may update. See related photo of Saint Mark’s, Altadena, in the Episcopal Diocese of Los Angeles.