The Tsunami - the problem of suffering
How do you remember this past Christmas? I remember two things: the church full twice on Christmas Eve, with over 700 people worshipping; and the overwhelming humanitarian response to the terrible destruction caused by the earthquake and tidal waves on Boxing Day.
These two memories prompt four questions:
- Why do so many people come to Church at Christmas?
- Why are we moved to help those whom we had previously ignored?
- Are the two responses connected?
- What kind of God are we drawn to?
- Why do so many people come to Church at Christmas?
I doubt that there is a single answer. Talking to some of those who came for what seems like their only churchgoing of the year, they say “it’s the right thing to do”. Others say, “We always come at Christmas, it’s traditional in our family.” This implies that some of the people who swelled our numbers thought that Christmas would be in some way “incomplete” without church. The puzzle for the regular churchgoer – and the clergy, of course – is why every Sunday doesn’t feel “incomplete” without church. A disturbing answer to this might be that it is only at Christmas that we do something in church that “gets through” to most people. Perhaps, there is something about the symbolism and customs of Christmas – rather more than Easter – that gives off a strong enough signal for “ordinary” people to pick up. An interpretation less flattering to the occasional churchgoer is that most people live such self-absorbed, “busy” lives that they don’t normally consider whether their lives have meaning or purpose or whether the Christian story might help them to find an answer to this question. Perhaps, Christmas – like the rites of passage of birth, death and marriage - has a message strong enough to penetrate the deafness and blindness to life’s purpose that afflicts most of us most of the time.
- Why are we moved to help those whom we had previously ignored?
A plausible answer to this question is probably very similar to my answer to the question of why churches are full at Christmas. It seems to me that most people are responsive to others and are capable of compassion. However, for many, much of the time this involves small gestures of kindness and concern. However, when there is a personal or public crisis, the depth of our capacity for love is revealed. This happens in families when there is serious illness or bereavement. It happens in the public domain, when a disaster occurs. When something like the tsunami strikes, we are taken aback by the revelation of people’s innate goodness and generosity.
- Are the two connected?
I believe so. Most people in our society have a religious and moral receptivity but for much of the time it is operating at a “local range”. We are generally kind to our families and neighbours. Quite a few are involved in voluntary work. But it is only when the media “turn up the volume” and, particularly, bombard us with images of suffering, that we are moved to a big effort. Now every school and workplace is doing something special to help the victims of the tsunami.
Equally, most people say that they believe in God but few express this actively in worship. Nationally, it takes something like the death of Princess Diana for there to be widespread “religious behaviour”, like the lighting of candles and strewing of bouquets that happened then. Personally, it takes a death or a marriage to get most people into touch with our religious tradition.
But once our sensitivity is raised -
- What sort of God are we drawn to?
The answer is given in today’s Gospel reading. We are drawn to the “Lamb of God”, Jesus who will be bound and sacrificed, the one who will die for us. We are drawn to the man “acquainted with sorrows”, not a remote, all-powerful God. We know that however great the suffering is that we experience – and the suffering caused by the tsunami is beyond our comprehension – the crucified God understands it.
So, there is a common thread to the full churches at Christmas, the great outpouring of compassion and love for the victims of the tsunami, and the picture of God that we are most drawn to: vulnerability. Our best, most loving qualities are drawn out by the image of the vulnerable infant born into the world for us; by the image of the vulnerable human beings whose lives have been devastated by the tidal wave; and the image of the crucified God who offers his life with open arms for our salvation.