Reflection on Haiti
Ms. Evan Fowler
Kay Spiritual Life Center
January 18, 2010–Interfaith Vigil for Haiti
It is easy to view the earth as a stable place. In our everyday experiences, we see the rising and setting of the sun, the cycles of the moon, and the seasons that, without fail, repeat each year. For millennia, we have created charts and calendars to remind us just how reliable the orbit of the earth around the sun is. There are people who look at hot and cold air mixing, and from that can predict when the next rainstorm will be. We understand the science behind natural phenomena and many times can prevent serious loss of life by acting before disaster strikes.
So when the earth moves beneath the fragile foundations of one of the poorest and most structurally unstable places on the planet, we feel upset, confused, and helpless. Our trust in God, or Mother Earth, or Science did not prevent the sudden destruction of some of the most vulnerable life on the planet. We mourn for the loss of life in Haïti and we mourn for humanity’s loss of confidence—we don?t know as much as we thought we did and can’t protect each other to the extent that we would like.
Especially as individuals, we can feel as if there is nothing we can do about the earthquake in Haïti. We can donate funds, or pray for the people there, but there is nothing tangible that we can do with our own hands to make a change in the situation. Something that we can do, however, is to change ourselves. We can allow our hearts to be as vulnerable as Haïti was when the earthquake struck, and leave them defenseless to be torn apart by the stories and images that tell of lives lost and homes destroyed. We cannot allow ourselves the luxury of keeping our feelings and fears far from ourselves, behind the glass screen of a t.v. or buried in the leaves of a newspaper. That level of separation cannot be tolerated. It is not only our responsibility to reach out to Haïti, but also to allow Haïti to reach out for us. It is imperative that we allow the earthquake in Haïti to shake the foundations of our own lives, and to let it smash our hearts as it smashed so many homes. Simply because we are an ocean away does not mean we have to be removed from the situation.
After we let the Haïtian earthquake break us, we must look at our lives lying exposed and dismantled and examine the pieces of them. Are we satisfied with what we see? Just as Haïti rebuilds, we will rebuild. And just as Haïti will never look like it did before the earthquake, we must make sure that our lives will not return to their previous state either. By rearranging the pieces of our existence and discarding the parts that were mangled long before the disaster struck, and salvaging what was twisted during the trauma until a more pleasing form arose, we can rebuild our lives so that they are more beautiful and more structurally sound then they were before we chose to let our hearts be broken.
It is easy to view the earth as a stable place and to become comfortable with its cycles. It is easy to do the same with our own lives—to get sucked into our daily routines and our placid lifestyles. The earth is not a stable place, as the earthquake in Haïti has forced us to remember. Our lives are not stable either, and if we choose to do so, we can allow this event to mould us in ways which may not be comfortable, but will certainly allow us to become more whole as human beings.
