Haiti

As I'm sure it has been the case for you, I can't stop thinking about the situation in Haiti, the wreckage, the deaths, the slow progress in getting aid to mourning and poverty-stricken people. I can't stop thinking about how it takes a terrible tragedy such as this to get Americans to think its time to start sending significant aid to Haiti that will finally enable the country to create an infrastructure, how it takes a terrible tragedy such as this to jolt me out of my narcissistic, soulless slumber.

I am struck by mindless comments made by people like Pat Robertson, who seem to think they have a direct line to God, who think tragedies like earthquakes that kill hundreds of thousands of people, have simplistic reasons for their occurrence. And while there have been many quality responses to the "Christian" spokesperson--I was particularly compelled by Don Miller's as well as the bloggers at Sojourners (here and here -- although the cracks by Keith Olbermann are going a tad too far)--I still can't get around wondering why he still has a job, why people still listen to him (no wonder my parents didn't allow me to watch the 700 Club growing up!), how he could fail to realize that most of the people affected by the quake are (or at least claim to be) Christians--missionaries, relief workers, and followers of Jesus living in the poorest country in the Western hemisphere.

Theodicy (our attempts to give a reasoned response for why God allows evil in the world) simply fail. Auschwitz, the killing fields of Cambodia, Rwanda, Darfur, and even Haiti all point to Emmanuel Levinas's claim that we have reached the "End of Theodicy." There is no adequate answer. To try to give an answer--especially to someone who is hurting so deeply--is not only inadequate, it is grossly violent. Could some of those individuals who have endured the suffering be able to find meaning amidst the pain, terror, suffering, and evil? Yes. But it is not our job to offer it to them. Our only adequate response is an intellectual kenosis (Phil. 2:7), a self-emptying of our position of authority and having-all-the-answers and a bending down to help, serve, give, and sy/empathize.

Those who are there are requesting our prayers -- but who wants prayers from a condescending American who pompously "knows" Haiti's condition and what it needs (that is not a critique of Pat Robertson but all of us who think those "poor Haitians" just need America's money, America's democracy, America's hope, and America's direction)? They are requesting essentials like food and water and medical aid -- but even with our ships and helicopters and airplanes we are having trouble getting them there and we cannot successfully do so unless we parakaleo (come along side/help/comfort; John 15:26) them, work with them, and let them lead. They are requesting we help them rebuild their infrastructure, help them build housing for hundreds of thousands of people roaming the streets, and even temporarily set up a martial law to protect from large-scale vandalism and thieving -- but we must not offer these things from the position of the "Great White Hope," of power, of doing it our way, but by offering a humble strength, we can help Haiti become a better place that is still theirs. We can give money, we can act politically and ask the President to grant "Temporary Protective Status" to Haitians (just go to the link-its not that difficult!), and we can pray. We can leave them a "corner" of our possessions as the Israelites were commanded to leave the poor, the orphan, and the immigrant the edge of their field (Lev. 19:9) [You have to see Rob Bell's video on this topic]. But amidst it all, we must do so with a sense of gratitude, humility, and a healthy regard for the Other--knowing they have just as much to grace us with as we do them.

Let us give up our self-guilted sense of being obligated to provide a reasoned answer and act for Haiti--and for so many other widows and orphans and strangers--with a reckless grace: a grace that offers the poor a helping hand without expecting something in return, but a grace that begins with ourselves, that liberates ourselves from measuring up to some unknown requirement of having all the answers, of being right.