The Voodoo Factor

"The person who fears God will avoid all extremes." Ecclesiastes 7:18. To say that the earthquake in Haiti is the direct result of a "pact with the devil" is an extreme and simplistic response to a horrific catastrophe. Imagine the grieving hearts of the family of Christ who call Haiti home when they hear this callous conclusion that some of their spiritual siblings are espousing for all the world to hear. However, to say that the devil had nothing to do with this disastrous event is another extreme that denies an inherent facet of Christian belief. The sum of humanity is body, soul, and mind. The world and all that's in it is both physical and spiritual. Life is threatened by one who prowls, seeking to devour and destroy.

It is no secret that Haitian life is seeped in the practice of Voodoo. 75% of the population claims to be Catholic and 75% of Catholics practice Voodoo. Esteemed and glorified as part of their cultural heritage, it is also a custom that retards and kills social change and transformation. It lights little girls on fire and maims youth as rituals. Even secular sources recognize that voodoo is a religion that emphasizes the capriciousness of life and creates high levels of mistrust within communities (David Brooks, The Underlying Tragedy, New York Times). Planning and development in this context is undermined and neglected. As is evident this week, the lack of good planning and the absence of earthquake resistant development has resulted in "stupid death" and unbearable heartache.

There are eloquent tales told where followers of Voodoo baptize themselves in sacred mud pools. Spirits take over their senses and behaviour causing these worshipers to dance endlessly, granting them insane strength and the ability to launch themselves incredible distances. Madame Dread: A Tale of Love, Voodoo, and Civil Strife offers a revealing account of the author's experience and abandonment of voodoo festivals. Initially craving the euphoric state of spiritual possession, Kathie Karreich eventually avoided the practice because it left her exhausted, spent, and fearful. Voodoo is a system of belief that woos the seeker with ecstasy and power but leaves the reveller wasted, stripping his/her soul of life. A majority population existing in this state of mind (at varying levels) does not lend itself to a responsible society intent on betterment.

The state of Haitian society before the earthquake can be attributed to a plethora of reasons. A history of slavery,dictatorship, and coups, the suffocating sanctions of the international community, the slash and burn ethos that has razed the land of nutrients, all these and more fed the vulnerability of Haiti. Even the well intentioned, multi-millioned attempts at aid have delayed development instead of enhancing it. The earthquake itself was simply the sudden, devastating rupture of the earth's crust beneath an unsuspecting and beloved country. Although not the sum of the cause, it would be haste and foolish to completely dismiss the fact that Voodoo and the force behind it has played a part in the deadly drama unfolding before us today.

Haiti, my heart bleeds for you and my prayers plead your cause.

Inside of Me

There's a resistance inside of me. A restless concoction of desire for something more than average. I don't always live in ways that correspond with this nature that resides within. Sometimes, I bow to slothfulness and submit to the ho-hum. That's why I read. I read books about other places and interesting people in the hope that their adventures and experiences will somehow be mine if I just press my eyes shut and envision it hard enough. An image will strike me, cause me to pause, and I slip away from here for a few seconds.
For a few seconds, I am no longer seated on the brick stoop of my parent's wood stove, but I'm bumping along a precarious stretch of steep mountain road in Pakistan. For a few seconds, the warmth on my back becomes the sultry heat of the Santa Cruz sierra. In a moment, the night obscures my movements as I make my way to a barely lit cave and a gathering of secret Jesus loyalists. In a flash, I land in Iraq and see the shards of glass protruding from a charred taxi as blood streams down the street and pools in the gutter. Why can't I resign myself to the ordinary and for what purpose am I constantly dogged by the mystique and misery of this world?
Although a new thing springs up, I have yet to perceive it.