Some of you might remember the Fukushima nuclear disaster 14 years ago. The magnitude-9 earthquake off Japan’s east coast, considered one of the strongest ever recorded, triggered a massive 10-metre-high tsunami that in some areas travelled up to 6 miles inland. These natural events caused widespread destruction of infrastructure, businesses and homes. Nearly 20,000 lives were lost, and many more people were displaced either temporarily or permanently. About 150,000 residents near the damaged Fukushima nuclear plant were evacuated, with some never returning due to radioactive contamination. So, when a massive 8.8 magnitude earthquake occurred ten days ago off Russia’s far eastern coast, sending tsunami waves across the Pacific, Japanese authorities did not take any chances; more than two million people were urged to evacuate, stay away from the sea, and move to higher ground. People in Japan are accustomed to natural disasters. Although Japan covers less than 1 per cent of the Earth’s land mass, 10 per cent of all earthquakes occur there or nearby because of its geological position. It’s expected that an earthquake ten times stronger than the 2011 one could happen at any time by 2040. Add to that volcanic eruptions, typhoons, and landslides. In practical terms, it’s impossible to avoid natural disasters when living in Japan. Consequently, many Japanese buy a “disaster bag” that contains everything needed in case of an emergency evacuation order.
“Stay dressed for action and keep your lamps burning, and be like men who are waiting for their master to come home” is the central message in today’s gospel reading. Its overall sense is not dissimilar to the seemingly doomed Japanese attitude towards natural disasters, though in this passage, it is limited to the punishment meted out to a negligent servant by his displeased master returning home unexpectedly: “the master of that servant will come on a day when he does not expect him and at an hour he does not know, and will cut him in pieces.” Such a prospect can be fear-inducing, and consequently, it hardly fosters a loving bond between us and our Lord. Interestingly, there have been repeated periods in the history of the Christian faith when “the fear of God” was the dominant form of “spirituality”, to the point that “God-fearing person” is a British idiom used to describe an earnestly religious individual. The misunderstood “fire and brimstone” initial message caused enough confusion among his disciples that one of them, Peter, asked for clarification: “Lord, are you telling this parable for us or for all?” It’s not an uncommon belief among culturally religious people that, because of their declared faith, they are somehow supposed to be insulated and sheltered from unfortunate events and occurrences. Of course, most of us here know from personal experience that that is not the case. Although the chosen image might seem to imply it, the message conveyed by Jesus to his audience wasn’t about the punishment meted out by God, irritated by our misbehaviour. What was it about then?
The first and second readings cast some light on this question, addressing it on communal and individual levels, respectively. The first refers to the night of Passover in Egypt, when the same disaster that struck the Egyptians (the death of the firstborn) became the means of the Israelites’ liberation from slavery. The second recounts a more personal story of Abraham and Sarah, who were childless for most of their lives. In both instances, the biblical authors emphasised the unwavering trust of the Israelites and the childless couple in God’s promises being fulfilled. Such trust was demonstrated through their actions. The Israelites in Egypt had to follow a detailed set of instructions for that night: marking their door frames with the blood of a sacrificial animal, staying indoors with lights lit and ready to leave at short notice, and so on. Should they have neglected it, they would have fallen victim as the Egyptians did. Abraham was presented as a man with a string of his actions in response to God’s orders, commands and instructions. At the core of Abraham’s faith was his conviction that God would never lead him into disaster, but through it to emerge safely on the other side.
Essentially, faith in God means listening to Him and acting accordingly, trusting in His limitless and unconditional love for you. It’s tempting to think that people in biblical times had it easier. God seemed to communicate with them so clearly, leaving no room for misunderstanding or misinterpretation, unlike us, who appear to struggle to understand what God wants from us. But that’s not true. We have clear and straightforward guidelines, starting with the essential Ten Commandments, through the teachings of Jesus, such as the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7), to the teachings of the Church. Our main challenge is to act accordingly, applying those moral and ethical guidelines to our daily decisions and interactions. When we fail to do so, we struggle to see the promised outcomes and effects, and it can lead to questioning God. Faith cannot be practised theoretically. Faith is the way we engage with our reality. Since all our troubles, problems, and challenges are inherent to life, we simply cannot avoid them; instead, we must face them and deal with them. What matters most is how we do so.
