Tsunami meditation by James Vijayakumar

“Called to Confront God”
John 11:28-37; Psalm 10:1-18
(Amistad Chapel, Cleveland)
March 9, 2005

“Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man, this Lazarus, from dying ?”

Could not this almighty, all powerful, awesome, and wonderful God have kept these nearly 300,000 people from being killed by tsunami in minutes ? Is this God not as powerful as the tsunami itself ? Could not this loving, kind, and compassionate God have kept those hundreds of thousands of innocent children from being orphaned ? May be this God is not so kind. Could not this creating, redeeming and sustaining God have kept those millions from being rendered homeless and deprived of their livelihoods ? Could not this God of justice and righteousness who miraculously saved a few from being drawn by the waves, have saved the rest ? Was this God punishing some and rewarding others ?

Or was God being a helpless and silent spectator because God’s power base is eroded and has lost all control over nature, God’s own creation ? Or, as one of my friends in India said, was God having fun, and if so, has God had enough of it, at least for the time being ?

These are only a few of some common questions that we all might be familiar with, and perhaps would have heard several times since the tsunami hit parts of Asia and Africa about 10 weeks ago. Sometimes these questions are silenced in our own minds and we are hesitant to ask them. Often they are silenced by ready made answers and cliches about God’s will or God’s mystery. Often those answers are even passed on to the victims or the survivors, silencing their own protest against God. Such answers often silence the cry of the victims, the voice of their grief, frustration, anger and protest. Instead of giving voice to their pain and agony, and bringing those cries right to the presence of God even in worship and liturgy and confronting God with their questions, often the victims are coaxed into accepting their loss and suffering as the will of God.

About four weeks ago, our General Minister and President, Rev. John Thomas, our Ecumenical Officer, Rev. Lydia Veliko and I were in Colachel, in the southern tip of India which was hit hard by the tsunami. In this small town of Colachel itself more that 1500 people have been killed. This is my own place and a community that I know very closely. My brother Prem told us of a particular incident that took place in our family hospital which he runs now, and where he has been treating hundreds of tsunami victims since December 26th. The particular incident took place about five days after the tsunami had hit. There were about 300 families camping in the hospital premises, in the crowded halls, rooms, corridors and courtyards, several being treated for wounds, injuries, and drowning, and the others with nowhere else to go, as their houses had been washed away. Their loss and grief had turned into anger.

It was at that time a woman lay worker of the church, whom we call in our place as ‘Bible woman’ who usually makes house and hospital visits and prays, came to the hospital and entered one of the halls crowded with these sorrow stricken victims who had lost their loved ones, houses and possessions. Many of them were filled with guilt for not being able to save their children, a mother, father, a sibling or a neighbor. The Bible woman came and started talking to them. Eventually she talked about God’s plans and God’s will that we cannot question. The already angry crowd got infuriated and mobbed around her, pushed her and literally threw her out of the building, with these words: “We are letting you go alive because you happen to be a woman. Otherwise we would have thrashed you out of recognition.”

These were all devout Catholic Christians, many of them still wearing crosses. But they were frustrated and were angry with God, and could not put up with a God who would will such devastations in their lives, and leave them totally disillusioned and without any desire to live. They were questioning, where was this God when their loved ones were being swept away. Why should this God let all this happen to us ? What wrong did we do or what is our sin to deserve this kind of a punishment ? Like the Psalmist, they asked, if you are our God, why do you stand far off ? Why do you hide your face in times of our trouble ?

Four weeks later when we visited there, several of them were still in the hospital, but their anger had subsided. Their grief has once again begun to surface. So they began to talk to us and started sharing their stories of pain with us, as though they were waiting for some one to share their pain. A young mother pulled out and showed us the picture of her four children, all of whom were swept away and wondered about the purpose of her living anymore. A grand mother left with a wounded grandson, but has lost her daughter and her husband cried about her helplessness. Another couple narrated how they worked so hard for so many years and saved 200,000 rupees or $4,000 to buy a boat, but now all that money along with their house was lost to the tsunami. We noticed tears rolling down the eyes of another young woman of 22 years, as her mother was narrating how her marriage fixed for the first of February is never going to happen again as all the money that they had saved for her marriage and dowry along with the groom are now lost to tsunami, and her chances of getting married again is doomed.

Yet in another instance I had to struggle hard to hold my own tears back, when a baby girl, may be about a year old, pointed to us the photos of her two brothers among the many photos of the community members lost to the tsunami. She was excited to show us the photos of her brothers, not knowing what really happened to her brothers or that she was not going to see them alive again.

As the community began to share, their grief became our grief, and my grief.

Members of that community who threw the Bible woman out of the hall, now allowed signs of cross to be drawn on their forehead by Lydia, and a comforting touch by John. Women wanted to touch and hold the cross that Lydia was wearing, as though once again they wanted to feel the presence of God. Perhaps they began to realize that, after all, their God is not an awesome and awe striking God, but one who weeps with them and grieves with them. Perhaps they saw that all of God’s creation including nature is imperfect, and the whole of creation itself is groaning to be liberated from its evil and destructive forces and behaviors. Perhaps they began to see a God who embraces them like a mother in their sorrow and pain. So the first thing they did, even before they could think of rebuilding their own houses and lives, was to repair and repaint their church, standing in the middle of their community, so that they could gather again in the presence of this God who shares their pain.

But four weeks before that, they were angry with God. Even as they threw the Bible woman out, they were confronting and challenging God. There was nothing strange or new about them confronting God. In our own scriptural tradition, one third of the Psalms are lament Psalms, most of which challenge and confront God with questions of God’s silence or inaction or allowing evildoers have their way. The writers and singers of the Psalms brought the grief, pains, sorrows, questions, challenges, and protests of their own and of their fellow human beings right to the presence of God in worship and in liturgy. They did not attempt to silence the cries and protests of their sisters and brothers by pietistic cliches or perennial pretentious praise songs, contemporary or traditional, oblivious and indifferent to the grief, suffering, and pain of their fellow humans near and far. They did not hesitate or fail to confront God with the cries and protests of their brothers and sisters.

Because they knew that there was danger in failing to do that. There was the danger of accepting a theological monopoly of projecting God as an unquestionably awesome and almighty God, to the neglect of a God grieving and groaning along with the sorrowing and suffering ones. There was, and is the danger of accepting such a theological monopoly which translates directly into our social living as an unquestioning and docile acceptance of the powers and principalities of the status quo, reinforcing and consolidating the political and economic monopolies which cause pain and suffering to millions. A failure to confront God in worship, in liturgy, and in prayer, invariably leaves with a failure to meaningfully question the powers and principalities of the status quo. It is rather disappointing that not many lament Psalms find their way in to our lectionaries.

No wonder that we seldom hear any one asking questions like this: Why is it that a warning system present in the Pacific that would have very well prevented the magnitude of the loss if the tsunami were to occur in the Pacific, is not present in the Indian ocean ? Even if it were to be present, the communication systems and infrastructure in Southern Asia and Eastern Africa are so primitive or inadequate that the loss could not be prevented. Why is that so ? Why is it that one part of the world could be protected and the other not ? Is it the privilege and right of a few and not of the others ? Is it the choice of one section of humanity not to be protected ? Is it that they do not deserve that kind of protection because they are too underdeveloped and primitive, and perhaps even uncivilized ? Or are they lazy, and their governments are too hopeless ?

Or, is it that something is wrong with the global systems and structures of politics and economy and militarism, an ungodly status quo ? Failure to confront God with the pains and sufferings of our brothers and sisters, at least as the Psalmist did, leaves one with a failure to confront the status quo, and a docile acceptance of the powers and principalities.

The community in Colachel confronted God, and it was necessary for them and could not be helped, as they were pushed to the wall or to the ends of their own existence. They confronted a monopolizing theology.

Nevertheless, eventually in their quietness and emptiness, began to discern and feel the embracing arm of a God who cries and grieves with them. They, like millions of their fellow victims, mourners, and sufferers, began to discern the loving arms of a motherly God reaching out to them from their brothers and sisters near and far, who care for them and who grieve with them and who feel their pain. They began to feel that loving hand of God reaching out to them through the compassionate and generous outpouring of help and support, even through our own One Great Hour of Sharing, Week of Compassion, and similar channels. Rays of hope began to appear, and they began to see at least faint signs of new life, and there were occasional smiles on their faces. And that gives us also reason to smile, and even to celebrate, not our achievements, but that comforting touch of God, of which we too could be a part of.

As we partner with God, may God protect us from slipping into a state of being oblivious to the groaning and pains of our brothers and sisters near and far. May God give us genuine and authentic reasons to celebrate signs of new life and rays of hope, and to sing praises.

Amen.

For More Information
James Vijayakumar
Area Executive
Southern Asia
700 Prospect Ave.
Cleveland,Ohio 44115

216-736-3228
Phone: 866-822-8224 ext. 3228
Fax: 216-736-3203
vijayj@ucc.org