Solidarity storm
That’s the fiftieth bag I’ve packed,” Drew proudly exclaimed. Bagging relief goods may sound fun at the start. But with time, one’s fingers and palms begin to get numbed and the task becomes rather boring and tedious.
Drew, however, was not going to be daunted by this, “I’m ready for another fifty more,” he told his companions in the assembly line sorting out the endless tons of donated relief goods.
I dropped in to see the progress of their work. “How are things in the packing section, chief Drew?”
“We now have about 500 relief bags since yesterday, Father,” Drew wiped the sweat from his forehead.
“Great! Let’s continue packing as many as we can before the vans come in to pick up them by 5 o’clock this afternoon.”
“Father, can I have a word with you?” Drew said as he accompanied me to the door.
“Sure, we can chat in my room.”
I could see that Drew was not only exhausted but also very hungry. He let out a long and rejuvenating yawn. “You know Father, I’ve been working for almost three days and I don’t know why I feel guilty that I could still do something more for the victims of Typhoon Yolanda.”
“What exactly do you mean?”
“I find packing things too comfortable here, while they’re badly hit and suffering. Isn’t that unfair?”
“Look, sometimes it’s not good to compare life situations. We cannot fully understand why God allows others to suffer and others ‘seem’ not to have trials.”
“It’s just that I feel so much for those who were hit. I can’t erase their pleas for food, water and above all their agony after losing their loved ones and everything they possessed.”
“I also feel the same. But ours isn’t to question why certain things in life aren’t the way we expect them to be. We help them by not falling into indifference and to do what we can now to help. These people are an occasion for us to serve, sacrifice and pray for.”
“But the feeling isn’t the same, Father.”
“I know, but you will surely agree that helping the sick doesn’t require you also being sick or leading the blind to mean you have to be blind yourself?”
“Okay, I get it, but there must be something else?”
“You know, Drew?”
“Yes, Father?”
“Your situation reminds me of some young children whose older brothers were drafted to fight in a war unjustly waged against their country. They wanted to also fight but they were too young.”
“And…?”
“Well, they didn’t just sit there and wait for their brothers to return. One day an old lady saw them wading into some stinging nettles!”
“What are nettles, Father?”
“It’s a wild plant related to hops, mulberries, and elms. It has tiny transparent fluid-filled hairs on the leaf surface and stem. The slightest contact with the skin gives a burning or stinging sensation.”
“Does it hurt, Father?”
“YUP! I accidentally touched one back in Spain in a mountain climbing hike. Oh, boy! Dude, did it burn!”
“So why did they wade into it?”
“Actually, they didn’t just wade in it. They also raised their pants so that their legs and limbs would be directly exposed to the plant.”
“OUUCH!”
“When asked why they were doing such a senseless and painful thing, the boys replied that since their older brothers were making a sacrifice of their lives fighting in the battlefront, they wanted to contribute some sacrifice of their own.”
“Wow!”
“And this reminds me of your restlessness to ‘share’ in the plight of the people who were hit by the typhoon.”
“Do we have nettles in the Philippines, Father?”
“Silly you,” I chuckled. “I’m not asking you to do the same thing.”
“What then?”
“I’m suggesting you experience the storm of sacrifice and abstinence for them.”
“Storm of what…?”
“Offering up constant acts of sacrifice and abstinence will make us accompany them in their travail. The storm may be over, but we would like a different kind of storm –the good kind– to come down upon us and them when we suffer in solidarity with them.”
“But isn’t all these packing and fund-raising already sacrifice?”
“Yes, Drew. But it’s easy enough to pack bags and goods and send them off. Once this work is done we could sometimes feel (and sadly) satisfied, that we have somehow already done our share. What counts is that we continue to accompany them.”
“Like how, Father?”
“For example you can cut down on your personal comfort expenses from movies, merienda and drinks. Try surfing, gaming, and jamming less during the week and even weekends. You may also choose to offer up your study hours and additional chores. We can also complain less about the heat, cold, headache and what have you. And we can also spend quality time with our loved ones, to treasure what we now have and what others have lost with the typhoon.”
“Awesome!!!” Drew said.
“The next best thing about this is that one can continue living in a storm of solidarity even after all the material help and rebuilding is over. The virtue of solidarity, expressed in this concrete way, becomes a wonderful spiritual cleanser that blows away our self-centeredness, attachment to material things and increases our heart’s capacity for love and sacrifice.”
“Thanks, Father!” Drew stood up, looking very satisfied.
“Back to packing the relief goods?”
“Yup, but packing it with more invisible goodies.” Drew removed his earphones and iPhone. He handed them to me and said, “Hold these for me, Father. I believe I can start working better without the tunes, Father.”
