You may have noticed most of what I say on a Sunday morning has a positive spin to it. I prefer to focus on such themes as beauty and compassion and courage. I do this because so much of what is said, especially in the media, is fixated on the negative. And so instead of bombarding you with more depressing information, I want to inspire you to live full lives, meaningful lives, fulfilling your human potential, experiencing God’s presence in the beauty of the world around you, as well as in the faces of those you meet and engage with day by day.
But today I want to deviate from the norm, at least for a moment.
The images of the devastation and the desperation in the aftermath of the Haitian earthquake have shocked us all. Who can not be moved by what they have seen or heard? The lost looks on the faces of those digging desperately for survivors, or for food; the chaos and confusion as those with the ability to offer aid are hindered by inadequate or impaired infrastructure; the irreparable damage done to businesses and homes, the presidential palace and places of worship; and the tragic stories of those like New Zealander, Emily Sanson-Rejouis, who lost her husband and two of her daughters when the hotel they were staying in collapsed.
And all this, in a country considered the most impoverished in the western hemisphere and whose people have suffered enormously already over the years from previous disasters, political instability and social disharmony, and poverty.
The present tragedy raises all sorts of questions, for politicians and NGOs, for multi-nationals and city planners, and not least for us as a community of faith. It forces us to ask ourselves: what does it mean to speak meaningfully of a loving God as the bodies pile up and survivors struggle to find the help they need? And how can we continue to believe in a God who permits suffering of this degree?
I have to admit there are no easy answers to these questions, and many have tried over the centuries. Certainly we must refute the views of such people as tele-evangelist Pat Robertson and his insensitive and bizarre belief the earthquake was God’s judgment for a pact the people made with the devil before Haiti’s independence in the early 1800’s; but still we must ask, what then are we to say?
Well, we can talk about the freedom God gives us as human beings. We must take responsibility for much that happens to us. There is suffering that is caused by the actions or inactions of others. The present ecological crisis is one example, as is the cost-cutting measures that result in otherwise preventable deaths and injuries. But though it could be said Haiti’s building code did not allow for an earthquake of this magnitude, few of us would argue the people were to blame.
We can talk also of the greater good that comes out of a disaster like this. Over the past few days we have heard stories of heroism and survival, of people pulled alive from the rubble; and we have seen the generous and empathetic responses from individuals and governments around the globe to the desperate cries for help and assistance. But though such acts are commendable and urgently needed, you have to ask whether they can ever justify the suffering others have to face.
And we can talk about how this is simply the way the world is. We know effects follow causes, such as an earthquake is the result of the stresses caused by the movement of the earth’s plates; this is how the world works, and God isn’t some puppet-master arbitrary toying with people’s lives or the processes of the world. But, again, though this may enable us to better understand the world about us, it does leave unanswered, why God would create such a world in the first place?
One of the greatest challenges to religious belief is found in Dostoevsky’s “The Brothers Karamazov”. In it, Ivan, a worldly-wise young man, attacks the beliefs of his younger sibling Alyosha, a gentle and holy young monk. His argument is based upon the horrific suffering of innocent children; stories found in the newspapers of the day. He contends if it was necessary for God to create a world in which so much suffering took place, then the price was too great, “It’s not that I don’t accept God” Ivan says, “I just most respectfully return him the ticket”.
But is this the last word? I believe it is not. There is another word. It is faith.
Following the Asian Tsunami in 2004, Rowan Williams wrote an excellent article entitled ‘Of course this makes us doubt God’s existence’. While acknowledging the traditional answers only take us so far, he went on to make this point:
“The extraordinary fact is that belief has survived such tests again and again – not because it comforts or explains but because believers cannot deny what has been shown or given to them. They have learned to see the world and life in the world as a freely given gift; they have learned to be open to a calling or invitation from outside their own resources, a calling to accept God’s mercy for themselves and make it real for others; they have learned that there is some reality to which they can only relate in amazement and silence. These convictions are terribly assaulted by all those other facts of human experience that seem to point to a completely arbitrary world, but people still feel bound to them, not for comfort or ease, but because they have imposed themselves on the shape of a life and the habits of a heart.
“Most importantly in this connection, religious people have learned to look at other human faces with something of the amazement and silence that God himself draws out of them. They see the immeasurable value, the preciousness, of each life…”
It is for this reason, this perspective on the world and other human beings, that the Archbishop goes on to say the response of faith should be one of passionate engagement with those who survive such catastrophes, for there is no such thing as a “spare” life. That’s the outworking of faith; a commitment to the other.
I suggest this is the message of our readings today and of the Bible in general. God never leaves us alone; we will never be forgotten or forsaken. God is there in the midst of human suffering and despair, when our worlds collapse and disintegrate around us, as much as in times of celebration and joy. God is closer to us than we can ever imagine. And in Jesus, God takes on human form, he becomes like us in every way; that we may in turn become like God, drawn into God’s very being, and reaching out to our world with the healing it sorely needs.
So I want to finish with a prayer written only last Thursday by an American woman called Diana Macalintal. I think it sums up what I have tried to say. 
Lord, at times such as this, when we realize that the ground beneath our feet is not as solid as we had imagined, we plead for your mercy.
As the things we have built crumble about us, we know too well how small we truly are on this ever-changing, ever-moving, fragile planet we call home. Yet you have promised never to forget us.
Do not forget us now.
Today, so many people are afraid. They wait in fear of the next tremor. They hear the cries of the injured amid the rubble. They roam the streets in shock at what they see. And they fill the dusty air with wails of grief and the names of missing dead.
Comfort them, Lord, in this disaster. Be their rock when the earth refuses to stand still, and shelter them under your wings when homes no longer exist.
Embrace in your arms those who died so suddenly this day. Console the hearts of those who mourn, and ease the pain of bodies on the brink of death.
Pierce, too, our hearts with compassion, we who watch from afar, as the poorest on this side of the earth find only misery upon misery. Move us to act swiftly this day, to give generously every day, to work for justice always, and to pray unceasingly for those without hope.
And once the shaking has ceased, the images of destruction have stopped filling the news, and our thoughts return to life’s daily rumblings, let us not forget that we are all your children and they, our brothers and sisters. We are all the work of your hands.
For though the mountains leave their place and the hills be tossed to the ground, your love shall never leave us, and your promise of peace will never be shaken.
Our help is in the name of the Lord, who made heaven and earth. Blessed be the name of the Lord, now and forever. Amen.
Copyright © 2010, Diana Macalintal, Diocese of San Jose.
A sermon preached in St Alban’s Anglican Church, Eastbourne, by the Venerable Damon Plimmer, on Sunday 17 January 2010