A pastoral letter to all the clergy and Readers of the Diocese of St Albans

The Rt Revd Christopher Herbert, Bishop of St Albans

7 January 2005

The Tsunami Disaster

I want to take this opportunity to thank you all for all you have been doing, and continue to do, in encouraging giving and the offering of prayers during the last two weeks. I have little doubt that the pastoral and spiritual leadership you have been offering will have been greatly appreciated by your parishioners.

I am also aware that we are called as priests, and Readers, to try to convey some answers to the theological and philosophical questions raised by this terrible disaster. This letter is an attempt to try to assist in that process.

Like you, I have been appalled by the disaster: by its apparent randomness, by the scale of the suffering that has happened; and like you, I have inevitably asked questions about how such an event can be part of a world which we claim has God as its creator. Also like you, I have found the compassionate response of people in our own country and across the world enormously moving.

Let me attempt, albeit briefly, to outline a perspective on the problem of suffering and what a Christian response to it might be.

If we want to hang on steadfastly and rationally to the belief that God is the creator and is dynamically related to, and connected with his creation and is also profoundly good, what are the perspectives to consider?

Let me offer a suggestion, which is this. The only kind of world in which you and I, as human beings can have come into existence is the one we have. Adjust the initial conditions of creation by the merest fraction and we would simply not be here. A different kind of creation from the one we have would have resulted in an entirely different set of outcomes - and we, as human beings would not have featured in it. So what kind of world do we inhabit?

The world as it is seems to consist of structures which are relatively stable, for example, gravity, and structures which are relatively unstable, for example, the movement of the atmosphere. Certainty and chaos exist in a state of uneasy coexistence. If there were only certainty, then life would be stable but could not and would not evolve; if there were only chaos, then there would be - only chaos.

The commixture of certainty and chaos exists not only in the physicality of our world, but also exists in us as human beings, physically, emotionally and spiritually. And this mixture of chaos and certainty, which we all are, as human beings, means that we are capable therefore of moral choices which can be inherently good or inherently evil. If there is no possibility of pain, there would be no possibility, either, of courage, heroism or love. In brief, it is only in the world as it actually is, that you and I could come into being, and only in the world as it actually is, that we could discover the capacities for goodness or evil, which exist in each one of us. If this is the case, then if God is good, the world itself came into being as it actually is, not by a twist of God's plan but because it was the only kind of world that could have brought us to birth.

This still does not 'solve' the problem of evil and suffering, because it is patent that there is terrible and innocent suffering, and it is patent that there is terrible wickedness, just as it is patent that there is heart-aching goodness - but at least a world which could not have been other than it is, provides a platform of some stability for our thinking. In a world as full of potential as ours is, however, what part can a good God play?

I turn, you will not be surprised to know, to the person of Jesus Christ. The incarnation, the death and the resurrection of Christ, provide the key to unlock the secrets of how God relates to the world as it is. The created world, as we know, is one of risk, of chaos and certainty. The only God whom I can begin to contemplate as 'good' is one who, having created the world as it actually is, does not then stay outside it, indifferent, but is present within every fibre of its being. If God is to enter the world as it actually is, then He has to become subject to the same chaos and certainty as all of us, and submit Himself to it (the usual phrase is to refer to this as 'self-emptying'). More than that, He not only has to enter it and be subject to its joys and agonies, He has also, because of His inexpressible goodness, to enter into suffering and death. Only a creator who enters and subjects himself to his creation, in love, is one worthy of adoration. Even further, that entry has to be total - all of himself, nothing held back.

At this point, let me offer an image. You may recall that astonishing photograph of a Swedish woman running towards the tidal wave, which towered above her, to warn and rescue her family. That is, for me, an image that reflects God - not a playing God, not an indifferent God, but a God who risks His very self for the sake of the world and the people He has created.

In Jesus' death on the cross, the abandonment of Christ to matter, to the annihilation of death, was God plunging into the chaos in order to love it and recreate it, to bring out of it all that is new and possible.

And we see this activity of God not only in the events of Jesus' death and resurrection; we see it throughout his entire life. In the healing of 'Legion' he brought peace and newness where there had been chaos. In the healing of the Centurion's servant he entered into the anguish of both the master and the slave and brought redemption. In the stories of the kingdom he revealed how God works within and through the very structures of our world to re-new and refresh creation. Jesus' life was all of a piece with his death and all of a piece with his resurrection.

But also running through Jesus' life and his teachings was a profound awareness of his closeness to God (Abba, Father), and a profound awareness, therefore, of eternity. He showed us through his life and death and resurrection that we are 'en route' to our final destiny with the eternal love of God.

It is true that he cried out "My God! My God! why hast Thou forsaken me?", on the Cross, when he experienced the absolute desolation and pain of our human condition; yet he also, with the gentlest courtesy, at the Resurrection, whispered Mary's name. Her terrible grief was transformed when he named her, that is, when he took her very desolation and made it the beginnings of a new life.

I want to suggest, therefore, that one of the truths about God is that He not only creates the world and enters its suffering but also contains it within His own infinity of compassion and love. This earth, this universe, if created and contained by God, really is not all that there is - all that there is, is God, Himself, and we are pulled towards eternity where we shall find our ultimate purpose.

Our suffering, our pain and terror, which He enters with love and for love, is ultimately taken up by Him into a new form of expression - into life with Christ in God. So, only a crucified God will do and only a risen God will do. And just as He enters our suffering, so He also, enters our compassion so that this, too, can be given new life; God is within the victim; God is within the compassion of the one who responds to the victim's need. And if this is so, which I believe with all my heart because of God's revelation of Himself to us, in and through Jesus Christ, it follows that as disciples of Christ, we, too, are called to live like Him: to enter the suffering, and to live with hearts overflowing with compassion. That is what our humanity is all about.

I realise that I have probably not satisfactorily answered the question many are asking, why a good creator God allowed such a horrible event to happen. Rather, I have tried to reflect more widely on why suffering is part of the created order and how a good and loving God relates to such a reality. In doing so I hope I have communicated a way to understand how God is related to the events of 26 December and a way for us to enter into what God is doing, as mysterious and difficult as that can be at times like these.

You will also be aware, as I am deeply aware, that no letter of this kind or this length can ever answer all the questions, nor can it begin to meet all the needs. I hope, however, that it may help you and others to reflect and find your own way of understanding where God might be in all that has happened, and is happening, since 26 December. I have tried, as honestly as possible within my own limitations to write from the heart.

I pray for you. Pray also for me, but pray above all for the victims and for the bringers of aid, that by God's grace this appalling tragedy may bring new life and new modes of living together into being.

+ Christopher St Albans