The last time we tried secession around here, it didn't turn out so well, but this time, we are taking a kinder, gentler and more leisurely approach.
Instead of Fort Sumter, we have enlisted the aid of the courts, and you know what that means: Better check back in a few years.
Fair enough. The system is ponderous, but being in limbo for a few years beats civil war every time.
There are complex issues to be resolved, and that necessarily takes lots of hours, billable or pro bono. The big question before the Louisiana courts is whether a well-heeled and predominantly White chunk of Baton Rouge should be hived off as Louisiana's fifth largest city. So far the courts have thrown up roadblocks, but the latter day Johnny Rebs are not done fighting yet. Another appeal is in the works.
Johnny Rebs seems an appropriate appellation. According to a court decision handed down last year, the boundaries of the proposed new city “were not purposely drawn in a racially discriminatory fashion,” but they sure came out that way. A rich White enclave plucked from a diverse parish is racial segregation by definition.
The new city would be called St. George, which seems an odd choice when French names are the norm around here. Baton Rouge is a case in point. Louisiana's French connections go all the way back, yet nobody seems to have objected when proponents of a new city decided to name it after the patron saint of England.
Saint George is best known for slaying a dragon to rescue a princess, but this sounds like a fairy tale. Let's just stick with the official story, which may also contain fanciful elements. George was supposedly of Greek descent and served in the Roman army until he refused to renounce his Christian faith and got his head chopped off.
In the Catholic Church, canonization generally requires proof of at least two cures that defy explanation, and George, reputedly a dab hand at raising from the dead, qualified easily on that score. As a Christian martyr, George was in any case entitled to a waiver of the two-miracle rule, however; he was a noble specimen, even for a saint.
Come to think of it, though, maybe it isn't all that difficult to qualify as a saint. The Catholic Church has more than 10,000 of them, with more being added all the time. Even allowing for the odd non-thaumaturge martyr, that's an awful lot miracles. They're pretty much a dime a dozen, which might make cynics wonder how hard it can be to secure Vatican certification of a miracle. Are the most rigorous scientific standards applied? Sure they are.
Thick on the ground though saints have become, none was born in New Orleans. That omission may soon be rectified. Canonization procedures are on show right now in New Orleans, with Henriette Delille next up for approval. Delille was a nun and a free woman of color born in the French Quarter who founded the Sisters of the Holy Family almost 200 years ago.
Current members of that order have recruited a canon lawyer who specializes in pleading sainthood cases, so it may not be long before Henriette takes her place alongside Joan of Arc, patron saint of France, on the one hand, and the old dragon slayer, her English counterpart, on the other.
Email James Gill at gill504nola@gmail.com.