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This past week we’ve been united in our sadness by the news of tragic devastation in Haiti caused by Tuesday’s earthquake. Like most of us, I’ve been deeply affected. Going to a meeting in the city, I found myself going down the stairs at the 125th street station when I had intended to go on into Grand Central. Only then did I sense something of the fog of my own grief at the loss of what may be 100,000 lives or more, my sadness at the devastation of a city and a nation, and my sense of hopelessness as I note the desperation of survivors, and the homelessness of perhaps three million.

In the face of this disaster, what can we say? As we gather as a people of faith, as we reflect on this moment, what does it remind us about our core beliefs as a people of God? Our humanity and our faith both demand a thoughtful response to this crisis. Precisely because this event is so painful, so massive, so difficult, it strips away the fluff of our lives and invites to consider that which lies at life’s very core. Let’s not waste this tragedy, but rather let us bravely ask ourselves and each other: What does this moment say to us about God and about our responsibility as God’s children in a world with others of God’s beloved children?

First, you’re probably not surprised that I begin with our theological core. I wonder first, what does this disaster say about my deepest, truest belief about God? Or, where is God – and who is God – in all of this? Perhaps I should thank televangelist Pat Robertson for forcing the question on us all, by saying, the day after the earthquake, that it had been caused by Haiti’s “pact with the devil.” (This comment was widely reported. See, among other reports, one on CNN.com.) I disagree with Robertson, but I his comment caused me to think about my own notion of God’s presence in event – or any such tragedy, large or small, in others’ lives or my own. Like it or not, Robertson is our brother in Christ. So, thanks, brother Pat, for raising the issue. With you, we’re all asking, “Just where is God?”

My own response was quite different. The God I worship and love, the God whom we just celebrated at Christmas who comes to us in our world, is there in the midst of the destruction, lamenting the dead, sharing the pain of the injured, longing for help for the fearful and the hopeless.

The liturgical season of Epiphany normally challenges me. God is always at hand, but often quietly or invisibly so. But in recent days, I’ve been aware of God’s presence beside us, whose grief is blessedly primarily as spectators.

Where is God? My God is there, with the doctors attending the wounded. My God is there, with the rescuers who miraculously pulled Reverend Sam Dixon, the head of UMCOR, wounded but alive, from the ruins of the collapsed Hotel Montana.

Where is God? My God is there, in the pain of the woman with blood trickling down from her head wound, eerily reminding me of the Christ’s crown of thorns. Jesus was born in Bethlehem, let’s not forget, to a couple just as poor, forgotten, and alone as were Haiti’s masses the day before the earthquake.

Where is God? My answer is similar to that of Reverend Jim Wallis, who responded to Brother Robertson: “When evil strikes, it’s easy to ask, where is God? The answer is simple: God is suffering with those who are suffering.” (Jim Wallis, “Haiti: God is Suffering With Those Who Are Suffering,” in SojoMail: A weekly email-zine of spirituality, politics, and culture, January 14, 2010.)

The second core belief I thought about this week is about us. We say that we follow this suffering God, a God who shares the flesh of every person in our world. What’s the core of our belief, then, of loving others as we love this God?

In our lesson from First Corinthians this week, Paul invites a fractured church to exercise their various gifts for their mutual growth and the good of their neighbors. “Now there are varieties of gifts,” Paul says, “but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone.” (First Corinthians 12:4-6, New Revised Standard Version) In other words, Paul is saying, use the gifts that God has given you for good of your neighbors, family, and friends all around you. Whatever strength you have, whatever compassion you feel, or whatever resource is in your hands – these gifts and more, God has given them all to us for the good of God’s children who share our world.

By a strange twist of fate or grace, this weekend we remember the ministry of Martin Luther King, Jr., whose preaching and whose life give us some clues about loving one another in the name of the incarnate God whose love for our sakes knows no bounds. This weekend we remember that King spoke for the wounded, the marginalized, and the hopeless. He follows Christ to the point by seeing the pains of people abused by racism, by economic injustice, and by the violence of warfare. He labored for the rights of the abused by society, while reminding all that such justice work restored the abusers as well. And he was willing to make any sacrifice to follow his God-given dream of racial equality, economic justice, and peace between all people.

This past week we celebrated Dr. King’s legacy by affirming a local woman whose simple acts of hospitality, compassion, and generosity for her neighbors in our town have made a difference in the fabric of our world. Doris Jackson, also known as “Mother Jackson,” received the Martin Luther King, Jr. award this year for her compassion to her neighbors. She lives in the Washingtonville section of the village of Mamaroneck. She’s not wealthy, but she shares gifts with children, food with those in need, and time and prayers with the grieving. I asked her how she came to such hospitality, and she told me a story from her childhood, seeing a woman caught in traffic at a busy intersection near her house, and how she, though only 7 or 8 years old, demanded that her mother stop and help. She’s been stopping to help others ever since.

The Human Relations Day offering we take today supports a multitude of people like Mother Jackson. These are people like her – community developers or teachers – who embody the love of Christ for our neighbors. Our dollars go to places we’ll never see. And through our dollars, our love will support children whose names we’ll never know. But God knows them, and God knows us, and God knows that we are related to each other in the love of that same God who gives to us both.

Core belief: God suffers with the suffering. Another core belief: God blesses us to become a blessing for others.

And finally this God is a transforming God. At some time in our lives, friends, earthquakes shake our foundations, too. Illness. Death. Job loss. A child’s illness. Divorce. Betrayal. Earthquakes are real in our world, both literally and figuratively. What then?

God transforms life to make it whole. That will be true in Haiti. With our help and the help of neighbors around the world, Haiti will be rebuilt. God will use our gifts, our ministries, our support, our prayers, our expressions of love and compassion, to rebuild that island and restore hope to its people. It will take time and effort, but it will happen.

I say that with confidence because God is a transforming God. The gospel lesson reminds us that this is true. It is a story of water turned to wine, yes. It is a story of a party come to life, yes. In the hands of the author of this gospel, John, this story is a sign. It’s a sign pointing to this truth: God changes us even as Christ changes the water to wine. God gives life, joy, and spirit. Where we see only darkness, God brings light. Where we see only destruction, God sees a chance for a new beginning. Where we grieve at the foot of the world’s cross, God envisions an Easter song. God transforms life, including our lives, every day.

In this time of sadness for our human family in Haiti, let’s remember our core belief in Christ gives us hope. And on this weekend of remembering Martin Luther King, Jr., let’s also remember the song of hope given us by children of slaves with such little hope. It’s a song that affirms the transforming grace of God’s goodness no matter what storms come our way. We might wish for an update to the language, I suppose, but the affirmation is solidly biblical and true: “He’s got the whole world, in His hands. [God’] s got you and me, brother – you and me, sister – in His hands. He’s got the whole world in his hands.”

I believe in that God is present with us all, especially in our suffering, every day.

I believe in that God calls us to share our gifts with each other, every day.

And I believe that God changes our lives for the good, every day, so that whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s.

These are three of my core beliefs, for which I am grateful. I invite you to consider just what your core beliefs are. This tragedy in Haiti invites us to no less.

Amen.

Mamaroneck United Methodist, January 17, 2009.
 

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