As
of the moment, the numbers continue to rise, with 650 dead and several hundreds
still missing. Thousands left homeless, and the local government and agencies
trying to respond as best as they could to the drama that continues to unfold.
The photos convey more vividly what the papers had communicated: entire
communities of shanties and dwellings of the poor crushed by the brutal
onslaught of the winds and the rising waters, people wandering about, most half
clad, many for whom the clothes on their backs where the only thing they could
bring with them in time. however the photo that gave the tragedy a face—and
which had done its rounds in the Internet—was that of a disconsolate father
clutching his dead child to his breast.
One
would think that some evil genius could have crafted this kind of thing to
happen, when people were most vulnerable, during the night, in their sleep. Of
all the seasons in the year, one may be impelled to ask, why does this have to
take place in the threshold of Christmas? I don’t think many would blame God
for this, but I am certain that thousands upon thousands of voices are rising
to the heavens, not in outrage against God, but expressing that question that
has more than once issued from the human heart: WHY?
From
my perch, thousands of miles away, despite of the great distance, the news
affected us back here all the same. MAS DE 400 MUERTOS POR LAS INUNDACIONES Y
LOS DESPRENDIMIENTOS DE TIERRA EN FILIPINAS, the headline in today’s paper
read.
But
let me go back to the thought that I had earlier tried to develop. I don’t
think a lot of people would be seriously angry at God for this. Many would feel
disillusioned, but I don’t think they would be seriously angry. The true
question would be, both for the affected and the bereaved, why would He permit
this to happen?
I
won’t claim to know the answer. His ways are not our ways, nor are His thoughts
like ours. But certainly I do believe that the proximity of the Christmas feast
and this tragedy desired by none, not even by God give a new depth to the
celebrations for which we are preparing ourselves. For weeks we have been gaily
going about with the preparations for the season: buying gifts, planning
parties, coming up with charitable initiatives, and doing ourselves spiritually
in order to enter more into a meaningful celebration of Christmas. All of this
is okay. Sometimes, however, the comfort and amenability of our stable
situation could allow us to have a superficial appreciation of the message of
the Christmas mystery. Christmas is none other than the mystery of the
Incarnation, God-with-us, Emmanuel.
Seeing
this entire rampage, wrought by the unfeeling brutality of nature, one may ask:
were was God in all this? As one surveys the no-man’s land scenario, one could as
well talk about the silence of God. Yesterday I sat down in the confessional in
one of the parishes here in Pamplona. In one of the confessions, I remember
saying to a particular penitent that in those times that God seems most silent,
it is when he is most near. These words, whispered in the dimness of the
confessional, came back to me as I pondered over this piece of news. Where was
God? Though not immediately evident, one could come to this conviction: God was
surely present, and so continues to be even more. He is present in the heart of
the father who grieves for his lost child; He is most close to the family who
is at a loss to see where they would be spending Christmas, as their shack had
been destroyed; He is perceived in the good intentions of many people who
sympathize with the affected and the bereaved, and is at the heart of every
initiative to aid. In the miracle of the Incarnation, men tried to look for God
where He was not to be found; they found Him in the most unexpected of places.
It
is my guess that for many this Christmas is going to be very different. Yes,
even the most ugly of all tragedies is capable of showing us the face of God,
in the face of the pained, of the benevolent, of those who offer their hearts
in prayer, of those who seek to be of help in anything. As they say, the
darkness makes the light even brighter; this crude reality of tragedy allows us
to appreciate Emmanuel even more: God-with-us, a God who is not impervious to
our suffering, and has shared our human condition in order to make clear to us
that we ought not to feel ourselves alone.
Merry
Christmas.
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