Chapter 9: Charity in the Rubble

It seems whenever we ignore suffering, we are forced up against it. Take Haiti — even with all the charitable efforts, the country remained one the poorest places on earth. But that goes essentially ignored until a massive earthquake strikes and the world is forced to face that a large part of a county's population is now homeless and without medical help, food, and water. One huge natural disaster (requiring immediate attention) piled on top of one already huge human disaster (that never received adequate attention).

It must be very frustrating for the people who have lived in and traveled to Haiti on charitable missions to realize that so much of the good they did is now buried in the rubble. Their hospitals, schools, churches, and sanctuaries have been destroyed. Many of the people they were able to help are now dead.

Talk about feeling punished by God... imagine living your entire life in abject poverty in a crime ridden, corrupt country and then, without warning, the city crumbles at your feet and you are left with no loved ones, no home, no food, no water, no medical care, nothing.

Who is to blame? God? Voodoo? Corruption? Human disregard? Is blame even relevant? Have we come face to face with the alter ego of the Creator — the Destroyer? What will He create in us out of this destruction?

From our sanctuaries we pour money into the Red Cross, the Salvation Army and telethons. We feel so helpless and guilty. We fear we could be under rubble ourselves one day. We count our blessings and give thanks and praise. We ask for an explanation. Silence...

We follow the story in the news. The media gives us doses of fear and dread until they know we need to move on to the sentimentality of the tales of dramatic rescues (they are well aware we need to hear happy endings).

We give the media control over our fears and hopes so that we get a balance of both and are not overwhelmed by any of it. We can only suffer vicariously for so long before we weaken.

We are not the ones living this hell. We are not, right this moment, wandering the streets of Port-au-Prince, covered in dust, breathing in the stench of death, thirsting, and searching for our loved ones. That's not our suffering job, not for today anyway.

We cannot perceive, philosophize or intellectualize all the answers.We go on faith alone. Is faith harder in Haiti? Faith during disaster may actually in some ways be easier because, more than ever, you need God. But I'm sure many of the faithful there would also be feeling tested and abandoned by God.

Is our faith strengthened as we watch from afar, ensconced in the safety and warmth of our homes and privileged lives? Do we renew our faith out of fear of the wrath of God or out of genuine thanks for all we have? Maybe both.

Charity in the rubble gives us pause. We want to be better, to do good, to give, to help total strangers. But will we humble ourselves to trust and need God? Or is our need for control so insidious and our arrogance so ingrained that we really believe our 'rush in to rescue' will make any lasting change?

Of course the rescuing needs to be done, but the larger, deeper picture also must be addressed. History shows us we are not very good at fixing human greed and selfishness. We are only experts at repeating it.

Christianity says we suffer because we have separated ourselves from God. We do not suffer alone though. Christ took it all on and suffered more than any of us (because he took on the accumulation of all human suffering for our specie's entire existence). But that concept is very difficult for us to process.

It does not surprise me that the Shroud of Turin has gone largely ignored. Because Christ suffered so long ago, it's hard for us to relate to the sacrifice He made, much less an image of it.

Even when we suffer, we seldom remember to reflect on Christ's suffering. Have we left God behind, buried in the rubble and floating in the dust? Perhaps that is the 'why' to ponder.

I have come to realize that the underlying message of the image on the Shroud is for us to trust in the mystery of God. The moment we trust God is the moment He comes to lives inside us.

It is interesting that Mother Teresa, one of the most charitable people in the world, privately endured an acute experience of the wound of separation from God. Her letters reveal a woman who, tormented by a sense of abandonment by God, nonetheless trusted God and worked tirelessly to bring His light to others.

Yet, it is not just our do-good efforts that bring us closer to God. Charity alone is not what heals the wound of separation. Charity too was buried in the rubble.

Whether we like to admit it or not, suffering is what brings us closest to God (or severs the relationship entirely). The choice to trust Him is ours. Puny as we are in the larger scheme of things, humankind is graced with the free will to choose to accept or refuse a personal relationship with God.

It is inspiring to witness how so many Haitians, in the midst of extreme suffering, are nonetheless trusting God and choosing to have Him live inside them.