Tsunami: Where Was God?

CHICAGO TRIBUNE

WHEN DISASTER STRIKES: A THEOLOGICAL DILEMMA
FATE, KARMA, BAD LUCK OR GOD'S HAND?
Why weren't victims' prayers heard?

By Frida Ghitis who writes about world affairs

Published February 6, 2005

KOH KAU KHAO, Thailand -- On the day the sea rose up and wiped most of the village, along with hundreds of people, off the face of this tiny island, 44-year-old Sakorn Deudon was doing what she always did on Sundays.She and her family had gone to the Buddhist monastery to light incense and offer prayers. Despite their many years as devout Buddhists, despite their efforts to gain merits or boon, that day brought tragedy. The sea, as if possessed, rushed onto land and rose inside the monastery. The high-water mark remains 8 or 9 feet above the floor. Sakorn managed to escape the building and climb up a tree, something she says she could never do under normal circumstances.In the swirling waters, her 23-year-old daughter Sawanee smashed her head on a monastery wall. She died near all the Buddha statues and altars where they had placed their offerings.

Sawanee lived on the mainland, far from the sea. She had come to the island to visit her mother, who now sits in the monastery kitchen, looking as if a smile will never again grace her face.Religious devotion did not save Sawanee, or the many other Buddhists who died in Thailand. It did not save the many Muslims who live--and died--side by side with Buddhists in this part of the country; and it did not save the hundreds, perhaps thousands of Christians among the tourists who died while vacationing in Thai resorts.

Like religious people facing calamity through the ages, the survivors of the tsunami question how this could have happened. How entire villages could be wiped away. How tiny children could drown by the thousands.The answers in southern Thailand, perhaps the most religiously diverse area hit by the tsunami, reflect an effort to make sense of the incomprehensible and try to survive the unendurable.

To Buddhists, who believe in a universal system of cause and effect, rather than a God making decisions about the universe, the tsunami came as part of something larger they call Samsara, the endless cycle of birth, death and rebirth.The abbot in Koh Kau Khao has told the people that the event was much bigger than their village; it came from forces of the universe. Na Pha Phon, one of the few who survived the tragedy without losing a family member, does not waste much time on analysis: "What happened, happened," she said, seeming at peace with her conclusion.But Sakorn, in her sorrow, wonders why certain people died and others didn't.She remembers how once she had told the abbot that she saw someone stealing from the monastery. "Don't worry about it," he told her. "It's his karma." Maybe some who died seemed like good people, but she believes they committed bad actions, Kam, in previous lives, and their karma caught up with them.She also blames a violation of the hallowed grounds of the monastery. A new resort had opened on the island just days before the killer waves came. The resort built a fence on the monastery's grounds, and she said she felt physical pain when that happened. She knew it was wrong.

In a steamy camp for displaced persons, an air-conditioned tour bus pulls up the dirt road in a cloud of dust. When the doors open, a group of youngsters wearing identical black T-shirts pour out, ready to help the tsunami's survivors. Their T-shirts read "Love your neighbor as yourself."They are missionaries, members of Thailand's small evangelical community. They sound like they have a good handle on the reasons for the disaster. The group leader, Ohm Rung Kitt, 32, explains that "God is a God of mercy, not punishment." Why did he allow so much pain, then? "Jesus suffered on the cross," he says. "There's great mystery in suffering."

It may be a mystery, but he has some ideas.He and his Australian friend, 30-year-old Paul Flack, who have been working hard to build temporary homes for the victims, say they think the tragedy will persuade many of the area's Buddhists to turn to Jesus. "People are in need; they need someone, something," Flack says.Despite their reassurance, Ohm hesitates when asked if the killing of so many could ever be justified, especially by a merciful God. He pauses awkwardly and his eyes tear up.In the earliest days, he volunteered at a local temple where thousands of dead bodies were gathered for identification. "When you see the corpse of a baby," he says, remembering "a sea of corpses," with the white vapor of dry ice rising around it, "It's very hard, it's very hard."

It's not only their untimely deaths that trouble him, it's also that "They will have no eternal life" because they had not yet accepted Jesus.And what about the Buddhists, who have also not accepted Jesus?"It's very sad," Flack says, looking down and shaking his head. "It's very sad."



The village of Baan Kon Thee on the island of Phuket is home to the glittering Masjeed Nurudee Neeyah, a sparkling gold mosque visited by Muslims from all over southern Thailand.The grandfather of the imam, is 73-year-old Maad Songmang, a thin man who sports a starkly white beard against his deeply tanned face. Maad's 30-year-old granddaughter worked at a resort in Khao Lak. She was swept to sea in the tsunami, but the waves washed her body back to the coast and Maad brought her home for burial.With most of the tsunami's dead still lying in the morgue unidentified, Maad praises Allah for giving him the comfort of burying his granddaughter's body.

Unlike Muslim clerics in Indonesia who have variously said the tsunami came as a test for believers, a reminder to the slackers and a punishment to the non-believers, Maad sees no complex divine intervention in his loss."Everybody dies sometime," he says matter-of-factly. His granddaughter, he says, is very happy now. Then he smiles as if sharing the peace she must now feel. "She is with Allah."

Where was God on Dec. 26?In this land of many faiths, the answer to that question comes easily to some and offers comfort to many. Others yet grieving deeply refuse to discuss the subject.Nature has always had a way of reminding us of our powerlessness.

Finding just how or why we must endure the darkest depths of sorrow is one of the questions that have troubled the great sages from the beginning of time.When suffering comes from war or other man-made disasters, we can more easily excuse God and blame the horror on the failings of man. But when it's nature alone that brings the pain, it's much more difficult to excuse a higher power.The quest for answers continues in the temple on Koh Kau Khao, and throughout a region still mourning a tragedy we might tellingly describe as one of biblical proportions.

Copyright © 2005, Chicago Tribune