Mennonite Weekly Review

Watching news of the earthquake in Haiti, I was unable to do much more than lament, pray and question.

I cried out to God, “Why? Why did this tragedy happen to a people already so poor? Can’t you stop tectonic plates from shifting? What good could possibly come from this calamity? Where were you, God, on Tuesday?”

Theologians down through the ages have debated questions about God and suffering, and most have not found easy answers.

Greg Boyd, author and senior pastor at Woodland Hills Church in St. Paul, Minn., says this: “We don’t know and can’t know why particular harmful events unfold exactly as they do. What we can know, however, is why we can’t know: It’s not because God’s plan or character is mysterious, but because we are finite humans in an incomprehensibly vast creation that is afflicted by forces of chaos. Given this mystery, we must refrain from blaming each other or blaming God when misfortunes arise. Rather, following the example of Jesus, we must simply ask, ‘What can we do in response to the evil we encounter?’ ” (Is God to Blame?, Intervarsity Press, 2003.)

How do we live in this land of contradiction, with a faith that both worships God as creator and also believes that God weeps with those who weep and mourns with those who mourn?

I believe God is there in Haiti in the midst of the suffering and pain, the grief and hunger, the thirst and despair. The image of a grieving, comforting God is the only God I have to cling to right now. Maybe our question should not be “Where was God on Tuesday?” but “Where is God now?”

What does Jesus tell us to do in this situation? We may write a generous check for relief efforts, but beyond that, what can we do? Perhaps later, when it is feasible, some of you will volunteer to go on a rebuilding team to Haiti. Maybe someone will adopt a Haitian orphan. But most of us won’t be able to do those things, and right now those aren’t even immediate possibilities.

When it feels like there is nothing we can do but pray, we should pray. I invite you to find specific ways to pray for Haiti. When you drink water, pray for those with no water. When you eat, pray for food for those who have no food. When you go to bed, remember the Haitians sleeping on the street. When you hug a child, pray for the orphans. And when you drive, pray that the God who parted the Red Sea will make a way for supplies to get through.

A news report filled me with awe and humility, for I doubt that in the face of such calamity I could respond with the same grace and faith. The reporter said: “Despite the death and destruction, hundreds of people, mostly women, took to the streets in an area of the capital on Friday, singing and chanting as they marched down the street — a sign of resilience amid huge mounds of rubble. It is not the first time such a display has been observed. Singing and clapping has been heard well into the night in a large square that thousands of people have made home after the earthquake.”

And so, in honor of our Haitian brothers and sisters who dare to sing, with hope for relief from pain, hunger and thirst; in solidarity with those who are working tirelessly to deliver aid and medical care; and with a heart of compassion for those who grieve; let us also sing to the God who is in Haiti, today and every day.

Carmen Schrock-Hurst is co-pastor of Immanuel Mennonite Church in Harrisonburg, Va. This article is adapted from a sermon she preached on Jan. 17.