January 4, 2005
by Bernard and Farsijana Risakotta-Adeney
Duta Wacana University, Indonesia

YOGYAKARTA, Indonesia - Today is New Year's Eve and also our wedding anniversary. Normally it is a day of celebration. But we don't feel much like celebrating. There is a knot in the stomach and tears just behind our eyes as we are engulfed with the news of the earthquake and tidal wave.

Thank you to the many who sent emails asking about our safety. We are about 1,500 miles south of the devastation in north Sumatra. The only indication we felt, as we camped on the South coast of Java at the time of the earthquake, was gale force winds, whipping the rain from all directions.

In Yogyakarta there is no physical disaster, but the emotional impact is incalculable. On every street corner there are students collecting money for Aceh. Almost everyone in this university town has friends from Aceh (the northernmost province in Sumatra). Very few know if their families are alive or dead.

"But there will be no resurrection on this earth for the 100,000 dead in Aceh. Instead the numbers will swell like the bodies that are putrefying in the rain."

The media is full of news and pictures of bodies. Today, the death count is closing on the nice round number of 100,000 dead in Indonesia alone. Some reports say the quake measured 9.0 on the Richter scale, but I doubt it. The largest quake in recorded history is only 8.6.

Have we been graced with a new record in the Guinness book? Graced? How do we make sense of it? We struggle to understand. Why? How shall we respond?

Many New Year's Eve parties have been cancelled or changed into charity drives. Mountains of food, clothing, money, and supplies pile up in Yogyakarta as the people pour out their grief in donations.

Indonesia has no experience of a natural disaster on this scale and the logistics for delivering the relief are a nightmare. No roads, airports, or communication systems are working in Aceh. What can we do? What does it mean?

We were in the United States on Sept. 11, 2001, when America went into shock and mourning. Everything shut down for two weeks and the total energies of a great nation were focused on dealing with meaning of this attack. The world was changed, not by the 3,000 dead, but by the meanings that we construed from it. America had an enemy: terrorists, Osama Bin Laden, Taliban, Afghanistan, Iraq. We were not safe anymore. We are not safe. So we launched a war on terror, our own terror and those we deemed our enemies.

Are we getting safer yet? Who is the enemy who caused this humongous earthquake and tsunami? Who do we fight? How do we make the world safe again? How can we construe the meaning of this event?

On television a woman in Aceh sobs before the camera. She cannot fathom the loss of her whole family and focuses on her need for clothing. She hasn't bathed for days. She appeals to her relatives in Jakarta to send anything, since she has nothing.

Then abruptly, through her tears, she screams out: "Allahhu Akbar! Allahhu Akbar!" God is Great! God is Great!

In these days, as I process my own puny grief, I try out various stratagems. For example, death is not so bad. We all have to die. Does it really matter if we die now or in a few more, short years? The 100,000 all would have died sooner or later.

Even Jesus only lived until he was 33 and was killed in a cruel and senseless manner. Would the meaning of his life be greater if he had lived to be 90? The Christian faith has affirmed his death as a sacrifice for all humankind, allowed by God, and crowned with resurrection. The grief of his friends was turned to joy by the conviction that he was alive again and still with them.

Muslims and Christians live with the hope of the resurrection. But there will be no resurrection on this earth for the 100,000 dead in Aceh.

Instead the numbers will swell like the bodies that are putrefying in the rain. The grief of those left alive will not turn to joy as they struggle to find food, water, clothing, and shelter in the rainy season. The children will remain orphans, and the parents will not receive their children back.

Tragedies sometimes give birth to miracles, like the story of the brave, 5-year-old boy, swept out to sea clinging to a door, who crawled on a floating mattress and survived for two days on the open sea before being reunited with his parents. Amazingly, they too were still alive.

Unfortunately, for every miracle of survival there are a thousand tales of death. Not many can ride out a tidal wave.

I play with the idea of going to Aceh: I can drive a truck, bury dead bodies. I am strong in mind and body. I can give comfort. I can lead. But there are no flights. The roads are broken. There is no gasoline. There is no food or lodging. Would I ease the burden or add to it? Am I tempted by heroics to ease the pain?

We may be tempted to ask: Is this God's judgment on Indonesia? Or on Aceh?

Aceh is called "the Porch of Mecca," the most religiously devout area in Indonesia. It is the only province to enforce Islamic Syari'ah law. Aceh is ruled by the Indonesian military accused of horrendous human rights abuses, sometimes matched by their separatist guerrilla opponents. Its governor was recently arrested for corruption.

Do we dare ask if God would punish a province bathed for years in blood and corruption? But this is a question that does not bear asking.

The tens of thousands of children, women and men who died, the millions who lost their homes, were not more evil than you or I. They have already suffered through years of warfare and oppression. What kind of a God would punish with such indiscriminate slaughter?

"Allahhu Akbar," a man who had lost his whole family sobbed. "My life is over. I can only be pasrah (submitted to the will of God)."

Those without faith may see this tragedy as further evidence of the incomprehensible meaninglessness of human existence. But those with faith can only submit to the will of God.

The earthquake and tidal waves are acts of God that demonstrate the immeasurable power of God and nature. Terrorists seem puny in comparison. "Why?" is beyond the powers of human comprehension.

Nevertheless, we can and will construct a meaning for this tragedy. We cannot live without meaning. The meaning of this tragedy is not fixed or eternal. We will create it by how we respond.

As the grief and donations flow in, we feel the unity of Indonesia, indeed the unity of the world. Eleven countries were hit, and the entire world is responding. Poor farmers in Java are sending their best change of clothes to Aceh. The Indonesian soldiers who survived the tidal wave have put down their weapons and taken up shovels. The military is the strongest institution in Aceh and at least for now, it is focused on relief of suffering. Foreign agencies, long denied access to Aceh are pouring in.

How long will this compassion and unity last? Soon the ideological battles will begin as different interest groups compete to exploit the tragedy for their own agenda.

For now, we are content to feel the grief this tragedy demands. We are pasrah. Later there will be time for celebration. Tonight, Farsijana, my loving wife, cooked a delicious meal and we cancelled our plans to celebrate our anniversary and the New Year at a fancy restaurant.

Instead we put on a recording of Mozart's achingly beautiful Requiem and felt the grief of death. Farsijana said we should not fight nature. This is the time for grief.

We remember the 5-year-old boy who survived the tidal wave by floating on a mattress. He said, "I was not afraid. I am used to the sea. I was only cold." He became one with the wild ocean and his courage saved his life.

Perhaps, only perhaps, the courage and compassion of Indonesia and the world may transform this tragedy into a new opportunity for peace, justice and life. Insya Allah (God willing)! "Thy loving kindness is better than life."

Presbyterian News Service