After his visit to the United States in 1831, Alexis DeTocqueville noted the widespread influence of voluntary church organizations across the country’s landscape. From major cities to the tiniest hamlets in America, he saw steeples, and he came to understand that churches are deeply embedded in the fabric of this nation’s culture.

A contemporary humorist’s quip that there are more Christians than people in this country suggests that what DeTocqueville observed more than 175 years ago is a continuing reality. Politicians of both major parties recognize it by infusing pro-faith rhetoric into their public proclamations.

But there also is a demographic dimension to America’s churches. They are everywhere. From Grassy Creek, North Carolina, to Moss Point, Mississippi, one finds institutionalized manifestations of communal faith. Thus, churches provide a natural distribution network for America’s response to disasters.

 

Front line of ministry

When ill winds howl, what better way to visit the scene than through its gathered people of God? Local church folk know their communities. They know the back roads. They have been schooled to love the Lord with all their hearts and their neighbors as themselves. Congregations on the ground are the front line of ministry.

That conviction was the key to Presbyterian Pastor Steve Bryant’s penetration into Mississippi’s Katrina crisis. He needed no bureaucracy, just access to Presbyterians in the area who had climbed out of trees, dug their way out of debris-ridden homes and gathered in what was left of their sanctuaries to praise the Lord and minister to one another.

They, not some distant denominational headquarters, knew what had to be done and how it might be accomplished. All they needed were connections, one-on-one ties with Presbyterian congregations elsewhere that were spared the brunt of the storm and wanted to help those caught in its path.

 

What was not needed

What those who had lost everything they owned needed was immediate and sustained help. What they did not need, and what they more often than not got, was ideology, egalitarian philosophy, race and gender guidelines, poverty calculations, countless committee meetings, ever-changing grant applications reviewed by multi-layered pecking orders, and the news that priority payments from disaster funds would bolster the salaries of distant bureaucrats. What they saw in these things was an institution determined to feed itself.

Without question, Presbyterian Disaster Assistance has done some good. A portion of the $23 million it received from donors did get to the areas that were stricken by Katrina’s wrath. But more than half of it did not, and much of the less than half that was spent offered scant relief to Katrina’s victims. Pursuant to criteria promulgated after the funds were raised, the disaster agency funded an agenda that surely did not honor the donors’ intent.

We applaud the many volunteers who stayed in PDA’s camps, bleached moldy walls and nailed sheetrock, even as we anticipate that some will cry foul over our Mississippi observations, complaining that their good deeds were inadequately noted.

 

Ill-prepared for work

But we also have interviewed volunteers who tell us that they went down there to work, were given no materials to do the job and were supervised by staff leaders whose lack of construction expertise led them to promote Kumbaya experiences in lieu of practical, on-the-ground disaster relief.

We also have visited local church leaders who would only share their experiences “not for attribution” and “off the record” because they feared retribution. After all, the money that they still desperately need lies in PDA’s pocket.

Public relations videos from denominational headquarters, presumably paid for with contributions intended for Katrina’s victims, show heart-warming scenes. One is moved by sights of volunteers wearing PDA T-shirts, holding hands in prayer and hugging storm victims. But surely there is more to the story. Audits beg for examination. Presbyterians whose contributions filled PDA’s coffers should see verifiable reports detailing how the money was spent.

What, quite specifically, have PDA’s volunteer villages – the major focus of PDA’s funding – produced? Listing volunteer hours and assessing their value based on a hypothetical hourly wage of $17 is impressive. But a more informative statistic would be derived from an equation between the dollars PDA has spent and the homes it has rebuilt. Those hard facts should be rationally assessed before the General Assembly accedes to PDA’s request that it be morphed into a larger and even less-accountable relief bureaucracy.

The Rev. Parker T. Williamson is editor emeritus of the Presbyterian Lay Committee.

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