On Sunday, September 16, 2001, churches and other places of worship across the country were filled to overflowing. I’ll never forget that day. Masses were standing room at St. Philip’s parish where I was serving. As I looked out on the congregation, serious and sorrowful faces stared back at me. Some had tears in their eyes. After Mass parishioners stood outside, embraced, and spoke about the fear and uncertainty that we were all experiencing and how important it was that we all turn to the Lord during this time.
Two weeks later, Mass attendance was back to “normal.” The initial shock of the terrorist attack on our country had begun to wear off. But I’ll never forget the solidarity that we experienced during that time. In this midst of immense suffering we were united, and a profound goodness flowed from the depths of peoples’ hearts.
Tragedy. It has a way of uniting us. It has a way of breaking down the walls that so often divide us. It has a way of bringing out the very best in each and every human heart.
Enter Haiti.
Last weekend at the seminary where I live we hosted a retreat for men discerning the priesthood. One young man who is from Haiti asked the haunting question: Do we believe that God did this? I and the other priests and seminarians answered with an unequivocal “No!” I reject Pat Robertson’s claim that this earthquake happened because the Haitian people made a pact with the devil to drive out the French. There’s an interesting scene in the Gospel of Luke that I believe also refutes Robertson’s claim. Jesus refers to a tragic event that occurred in Siloam. He says, “…those eighteen people who were killed when the tower at Siloam fell on them—do you think they were more guilty than everyone else who lived in Jerusalem?” Jesus’ answer? “By no means!” (Luke 13:4). Our Lord makes clear that just because those people were killed does not mean it was because of something evil that they did.
I can’t pretend to answer why disasters happen. I do know that, for some reason, God allows them to happen. He does not will them to happen. There’s a big difference, and it may be a mystery that we comprehend only when we are with Him for eternity.
I do know that tragedy unites us, that it brings out the best in us, that, even if just for a moment, it makes us drop our labels of liberal and conservative, believer and non-believer and reach out to those who are suffering.
I also believe that in a mystical way the Lord is suffering with and in the people of Haiti. He’s with them. How else can we explain what the Lord said to Saul: “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” (Acts 9:4). Saul was persecuting the Christians, and in persecuting them he was persecuting Christ who dwelled with them. We can say the same concerning Haiti: Christ is suffering with and in the people of Haiti, and in reaching out to the people of Haiti we are also reaching out to Christ, for “Whatever you do for the least of my brothers and sisters, you do for me” (Matthew 25:40).
God is with them. But He also wants to be with them and reach out to them through you and me!
Living a holy life requires that we reach out to those in need. If you have not already given to help the people of Haiti, I strongly encourage you to do so. Personally, I gave to Catholic Relief Services; but you can give to the charity of your choice. If you simply cannot give, please pray for them. But remember Mother Teresa’s words: we must give until it hurts.
P.S. I’m stealing an idea from a fellow blogger and I hope it challenges you: for every comment that is left on this post (not on facebook but here on my blog) I will donate an additional five dollars to Catholic Relief Services. Don’t be afraid to challenge others to give as well!
Most of you are probably familiar with the Serenity Prayer. This prayer has become a source of consolation and strength to Christians and non-Christians alike for the simple reason that it gives voice to our human experience and it resonates deeply in our hearts: God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.
