Making Sense of Disaster

Yesterday, I explored our responses to the abuse of another person. But with the Tsunami that just devastated Japan and the Pacific Rim, I can't help thinking about the traumas of disasters.

The people of Japan, at this moment, are in crisis mode. The news comes down to geological data and evacuation instructions. But in time, the human stories will begin to trickle in--the grieving families of the 23 people reported dead (so far), the harrowing tales of survivors thrown off the road, plunged into darkness, water, fear, danger. We'll read these tales with fascination, identification, and disassociation--imagining ourselves in their place while secretly thanking the powers that be that it wasn't us, wasn't our homes, wasn't our lives shaken so badly by that 8.9 magnitude earthquake.

But, in fact, we are shaken. By the randomness of the hit, the precariousness of the lives and worlds swept away by unreasonably furious waters. And it is unreasonable, all of it. Why them, not me? Why there, not here? Most of us won't dwell for too long on those questions. We have deadlines to meet, breakfast to make, appointments to keep. But that quiet persistent question of why--Why this life and not my life?--plays in our minds whenever we check the news or read the latest update.

So, ok, I'll bite. Why not me? Why didn't this tsunami sweep the west side of Manhattan instead of the village of Sendai? Aside from the plate tectonic science of it all, there is no reasonable explanation. No person or animal did this. And I refuse to imagine a God that metes out punishment in the form of natural disasters.

So then what? Then, there's simply grace. Prayer for those in need, comfort to those who are bereaved and gratitude for another day of wet spring weather that is merely and mercifully inconvenient. Not many people die as a result of rainy New York days.

We've all had our share of troubles--death, rejection, disappointment. Not all of them exist at the magnitude of the tsunami or a hurricane (as a native New Orleanian, Katrina haunts me to this day). But these moments of grief, as inexplicable and irrational as they are, do offer us opportunities. Opportunities to connect with one another. Opportunities to ask for support. Opportunities to offer support.

I believe that the deepest human spiritual need is the need to experience themselves as useful to others. Something inside you, something that comes from within, makes a positive difference for another person or group of people. In other words, the opportunity to serve is our deepest heart's desire. And I believe the need to feel relief from shame and pain by connecting with each other's deep vulnerability is a close second.

Today, we have an enormous opportunity for shared vulnerability. Those directly impacted by the Tsunami can certainly use both our financial assistance and our compassion. But what about the millions of people closer than an ocean away? They may not have been hit by a natural disaster but it doesn't mean they're not battling their own demons. Heck, we're all carrying something around. It's the human condition. But how do we use our sadness, our pain to offer identification, connection and love? How often do we say, "Hey, friend, I hear your troubles. And I've been there too. Or someplace not too far from there. I want you to know you're not alone."

I have a friend I call when I'm feeling low. And sometimes, when I'm truly down, he'll say, "wow, that's a tough one. It reminds me of myself. I want you to know I'm kneeling beside you."

Kneeling beside me. Is there any better way to feel connected? Neither one of us is very religious. But the image in my mind's eye of the two of us on our knees, humbled before pain or difficulty with or without reasonable explanations, this image brings me comfort. Whom can you kneel beside today? How can you offer connection over advice? Outreach over instruction? I guarantee you that the opportunity is there for you today. These are human beings we're talking about. As the line from Dreamgirls goes, "Effie, we all got pain!"

So, thank you, terrible tsunami, for reminding me of the opportunity to serve. Thank you, tiny terrors of the human condition, for offering me ways to connect and share with the men and women who cross my path today.

And, to the people of Japan: I kneel beside you today. I have no explanation. No scientific expertise. But I have a heart and it opens to you.