God of disasters
December 10, 2006 | 12:00am
It is much too difficult to put into words what many of us are agonizing through these days, particularly our brothers and sisters in Bicol, after that supertyphoon "Reming." And what about the other supertyphoons before that? The sudden death of so many, the agony and pain of those who survived, the helplessness and uncertain future of whole communities, the ugly destruction of homes, buildings, bridges, and roads that will cost us many years and billions to restore and all these in the midst of our already existing national problems and tragedies.
We feel like shouting: "Time out, Lord! We cannot take too much more of this. Please give us a break!" But He is silent. And in the silence, too, of our hearts where He dwells, He wants to speak to us. He is trying to tell us something.
For one, what seems to come forth from this inner silence is a humbling acceptance of our utter vulnerability and helplessness before the forces of nature, our absolute dependence on the God of nature. How easy it is to experience His presence in the beauty and bounty of creation. But where is He during those devastating natural disasters? Is He present or absent in them?
Or is He sleeping through them, as Mk. 4: 35-41 seems to suggest? We want to trust His love for us, but why does He sleep at the wrong times? His disciples, terrified, woke Him up at the height of a storm, so He could save them. And He did. "Quiet! Be still!" He spoke to the wind and sea, and they obeyed. Quite often, we wake Him up, too, in our fear and trembling. But He does not seem to wake up. Instead, He allows a big number of us to perish, and many more to lose their homes, properties, and livelihood. It takes a lifetime to understand the ways of God.
There must be an answer to these seemingly irreverent questions we are asking Him. Limited as we are, we cannot depend on our reason alone to understand it all. A great leap of faith is the beginning of an answer, followed by a continuing search for its meaning in our lives.
For one, our intuitive searching leads us to the reality that God created an imperfect world, which follows its own laws. God does not usually intervene nor "meddle" with these laws, but rather allows them to run their course. This, it seems, is all part of His overall design for His creation.
Miracles, like those recorded in the Gospels (making the blind see, raising the dead to life, and calming a storm) are special divine interventions, where a particular law of nature is "suspended." Most of the time, however, the laws of nature work automatically, imperfect as they are. And all the parts of this imperfect creation, including man, are on their way to gradual perfection. What does this all mean to us in the aftermath of a supertyphoon?
There is the "sleeping Jesus" in each one of us. When we wake Him up, as the disciples did in the boat, we too, wake up. And when we ask Him to save us lest we perish in the storm, the Jesus within us also moves us to help Him save ourselves and one another. As it is in the nature of the storm to wreck, so it is in our deepest nature to save what the storm has ruined. As it was in the nature of "Reming" to devastate, so it is in our nature to reach out to the victims in compassion and love, in solidarity and mutual help. That, my spiritual intuition tells me, is the meaning of the "sleeping Jesus." In His silence, He wakes us up, so that our faith can come alive in loving deeds toward one another, in rebuilding our broken spirits and devastated homes. The response to the victims and damages of "Reming" continues to swell, from individuals, government and non-government agencies, institutions, churches, local and international.
"There is an appointed time for everything, and a time for every affair under the heavens. A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to uproot the plant. A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to tear down, and a time to build" (Ecc. 3: 1-3).
Reming had its time to tear down. Now it is our time to build.
(You may contact Simbahang Lingkod Ng Bayan, Loyola House of Studies, Ateneo de Manila University Campus, tel. 4266101 loc. 3440, telefax 4265968, email: [email protected])
We feel like shouting: "Time out, Lord! We cannot take too much more of this. Please give us a break!" But He is silent. And in the silence, too, of our hearts where He dwells, He wants to speak to us. He is trying to tell us something.
For one, what seems to come forth from this inner silence is a humbling acceptance of our utter vulnerability and helplessness before the forces of nature, our absolute dependence on the God of nature. How easy it is to experience His presence in the beauty and bounty of creation. But where is He during those devastating natural disasters? Is He present or absent in them?
Or is He sleeping through them, as Mk. 4: 35-41 seems to suggest? We want to trust His love for us, but why does He sleep at the wrong times? His disciples, terrified, woke Him up at the height of a storm, so He could save them. And He did. "Quiet! Be still!" He spoke to the wind and sea, and they obeyed. Quite often, we wake Him up, too, in our fear and trembling. But He does not seem to wake up. Instead, He allows a big number of us to perish, and many more to lose their homes, properties, and livelihood. It takes a lifetime to understand the ways of God.
There must be an answer to these seemingly irreverent questions we are asking Him. Limited as we are, we cannot depend on our reason alone to understand it all. A great leap of faith is the beginning of an answer, followed by a continuing search for its meaning in our lives.
For one, our intuitive searching leads us to the reality that God created an imperfect world, which follows its own laws. God does not usually intervene nor "meddle" with these laws, but rather allows them to run their course. This, it seems, is all part of His overall design for His creation.
Miracles, like those recorded in the Gospels (making the blind see, raising the dead to life, and calming a storm) are special divine interventions, where a particular law of nature is "suspended." Most of the time, however, the laws of nature work automatically, imperfect as they are. And all the parts of this imperfect creation, including man, are on their way to gradual perfection. What does this all mean to us in the aftermath of a supertyphoon?
There is the "sleeping Jesus" in each one of us. When we wake Him up, as the disciples did in the boat, we too, wake up. And when we ask Him to save us lest we perish in the storm, the Jesus within us also moves us to help Him save ourselves and one another. As it is in the nature of the storm to wreck, so it is in our deepest nature to save what the storm has ruined. As it was in the nature of "Reming" to devastate, so it is in our nature to reach out to the victims in compassion and love, in solidarity and mutual help. That, my spiritual intuition tells me, is the meaning of the "sleeping Jesus." In His silence, He wakes us up, so that our faith can come alive in loving deeds toward one another, in rebuilding our broken spirits and devastated homes. The response to the victims and damages of "Reming" continues to swell, from individuals, government and non-government agencies, institutions, churches, local and international.
"There is an appointed time for everything, and a time for every affair under the heavens. A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to uproot the plant. A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to tear down, and a time to build" (Ecc. 3: 1-3).
Reming had its time to tear down. Now it is our time to build.
(You may contact Simbahang Lingkod Ng Bayan, Loyola House of Studies, Ateneo de Manila University Campus, tel. 4266101 loc. 3440, telefax 4265968, email: [email protected])
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