February 2010

Dear People of faith,
For most of us the news uppermost in our consciousness in the past few weeks has been the reports of devastation and suffering in Haiti following the earthquakes in that region. The flattened buildings, the homeless and hungry people, the orphaned children, and bodies lying in the streets—all these images have left a lasting impression in our memories. We feel compassion for the poorest of this hemisphere’s people. We feel sorry for them. Governments and aid agencies are rushing relief to the region, and millions of dollars of donations have already been given, some from our own congregation through our special offering for Haiti relief.
In the midst of the reports of destruction and despair I had an experience that gave me a different perspective on those ‘poor’ Haitian people. I was in Orlando for the day with a friend who needed to use the Internet briefly to report to his office. We went to the public library, to which I had a card from previous days and where they had multiple computers that were open to the patrons. I went to the service desk and explained that I had forgotten my card but would like to use the Internet for a moment. They took my driver’s license and found that I did, indeed, have a library card, but that it had expired. They wanted proof that I was still a property owner in the area—a tax or utility bill, which I did not have with me. They politely, but firmly, told me that I could not log on to the Internet until I had brought in the proper paperwork to update my information with them.
Since communicating with his work was imperative, my friend and I set out to find an Internet Café or somewhere else to find a computer. Just as we drove around the corner, we saw a sign that read “Computers and Internet.” I pulled into a parking space and we walked toward the doorway, which was right next to a Caribbean market with some of the colorful locals hanging around outside—people that were different enough from our usual Spring Hill crowd that I’m sure many would have thought twice about leaving the safety of their car! But my experience with third world people from Egypt to Jamaica has made me either fearless or foolish, and we marched right in. Entering the premises we found the place a wreck, computers and miscellaneous computer parts stacked in disarray from the floor to the ceiling on every conceivable shelf. The store itself was no bigger than a broad hallway and put me in the mind of many I had encountered in poorer nations. There, in the midst of the mess, sat a lone man in front of a laptop. His dark skin made his white teeth seem all the brighter as he smiled at us. “Is there a computer in here hooked up to the Internet that we could use for a couple of minutes?” I asked boldly. By this time another similar-looking man had followed us into the store from outside and had perched himself amid the chaos across from us.
“If you give me a moment, I think I can help you out,” said the man at the computer in a distinctive Caribbean accent. In no time he got up from his seat and said, “You can sit here. It’s ready now.”
As my friend logged onto his website, I heard the two men speaking Creole to one another. My French background enabled me to understand a word here and there. “Are you from Haiti?” I asked. When they answered affirmatively, I asked whether they had family members in trouble back home. They said that they had not yet heard from some of them, but were waiting for a word. By that time my friend had logged off, his taks finished. “What do we owe you?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing,” replied the owner. “I’m glad to help.” I left the store amazed as I compared my two most recent experiences with people—the one in the library and the other in the little shop. The library, funded by the government and taxes, wanted paperwork before they would even let me near a computer—and they had more information on me than they needed: name, address, phone numbers, driver’s license number, card number, probably even Social Security number! Still it was not enough. The Haitian shop owner, on the other hand, knew nothing about us, except that we needed to use a computer for a minute. And he moved away from the one Internet connection in the little store to let us use his own laptop! And that for no charge at all! And although he probably could have used some money to help out, if not for himself, for family in his homeland; we could not bring ourselves to lessen his gifts of hospitality and kindness by offering him any.
The whole experience made me wonder again who the “poor” in the world really are. It is not the poverty-stricken and destitute who are this world’s poor; it is those who, in spite of their material wealth and financial security, are so trapped in routines, so stuck in rules, so blind to basic human kindness that they can’t even dare to risk helping others. We have much to learn from those we consider “charity cases” in this world. As you give with generous hearts to help alleviate the suffering of the Haitians in this season of their need, never give with a condescending spirit; for when the last trumpet has sounded and we all stand before the Judgment Seat, it is more like we, than they, who will stand most in need of God’s grace.
With affection for all of you, Pastor Carlan