Do You Hear What I Hear? : The Cry of the Poor and the Cry of the Earth
This post was written on Saturday, 15 September 2018.
As I write this, supertyphoon Mangkhut – what they say is the strongest typhoon of the year – is passing to the north of us. We have been expecting it for a while now – the weather these few days has been still, heavy and foreboding – and last night when we were asleep the rains and winds started. While we are not directly in the path of the storm, the power of the winds lashing the trees and houses is still awesome to behold. It also inspires fear. It strips away the illusion we usually have of control, and exposes our fundamental vulnerability before nature.
My prayer this morning as I listened to the wind was a very uncomfortable one. I was uncomfortably aware that I was sitting safe and dry in a sturdy house with plenty of provisions to ride out the storm, but that countless other people in the same city were huddled together in leaky houses, hoping that their roofs would not blow off. To the north of us the farms, livelihoods and houses of people were at this very moment being destroyed, while they and their families waited out the storm (hopefully safely) in crowded mass evacuation centres. I knew that we would soon be hearing tallies of people dead and missing, of damage to crops and businesses, about hardship as the prices of rice and other basic commodities rose in response to the disaster. I felt keenly the helplessness of being aware of other people’s suffering, and knowing I could do nothing to prevent it.
I was also dismayed by the seeming inevitability and injustice of it. I have already come across a few news articles predicting that, as always, the poor will be the ones to suffer most from this disaster. It is their shaky dwellings that are torn down first; it is they who are more catastrophically affected by loss of income, illness and rising prices.
It is also ironic that they are bearing the brunt of a disaster which they have done the least to cause. Not that typhoons are human-made, of course, but there is scientific consensus that global warming resulting in higher sea temperatures can increase the intensity of typhoons. And so the carbon emissions of richer, developed countries – driven by the lifestyles of the more well-to-do living there – have a big role to play here.
I remember an incident that first made me aware of the justice dimensions of the climate issue. It was a hot summer day in Manila (summers in Manila are hot!) and I was sitting in the house with a companion, sweating. I was due to fly home to Singapore for a vacation the next day, and commented that in Singapore it wouldn’t be so hot – there was air-conditioning everywhere, in the buses, trains, malls, buildings, etc.
My companion responded casually, “And that makes us even hotter here!”
That casual remark threw me, and sparked off some soul-searching. Around that time, Pope Francis had just released his encyclical on the environment, Laudato Si, addressed to all the people of the world. It provides tremendously insightful commentary on the pressing developmental issues that affect us all. In it, he points out “how inseparable the bond is between concern for nature, justice for the poor, commitment to society, and interior peace”. This means to say, our climate crisis is not merely an “environmental problem”. In disproportionately affecting the poor, it is a social justice problem. Therefore, “[we] must integrate questions of justice in debates on the environment, so as to hear both the cry of the earth and the cry of the poor”.
He also points out that the root of the problem is really spiritual, for both the climate crisis and the problem of poverty and inequality are born out of insecurity that creates in us an insatiable desire to accumulate more and more, whatever the cost to others. “The emptier a person’s heart is, the more he or she needs things to buy, own and consume.” But consumerism doesn’t really make us happy, and it is not sustainable! In fact, “obsession with a consumerist lifestyle, above all when few people are capable of maintaining it, can only lead to violence and mutual destruction.”
Therefore, he says, the ecological crisis calls us to interior conversion:
What a simple invitation… but at the same time how profound – a lifetime’s challenge! For the sake of the poor and the earth, our common home, I hope that more and more people will feel called to respond… beginning with me.
Food for thought:
How am I invited to “interior conversion”?
Is there one concrete commitment I can make in response to the call to “hear both the cry of the earth and the cry of the poor”? (e.g. donating to a cause, reducing the use of single-use plastics, taking part in a “Season of Creation” event, etc.)
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| A woman in Baggao, Philippines, where typhoon Mangkhut made landfall with winds of 205 km/h. (Source) |
As I write this, supertyphoon Mangkhut – what they say is the strongest typhoon of the year – is passing to the north of us. We have been expecting it for a while now – the weather these few days has been still, heavy and foreboding – and last night when we were asleep the rains and winds started. While we are not directly in the path of the storm, the power of the winds lashing the trees and houses is still awesome to behold. It also inspires fear. It strips away the illusion we usually have of control, and exposes our fundamental vulnerability before nature.
My prayer this morning as I listened to the wind was a very uncomfortable one. I was uncomfortably aware that I was sitting safe and dry in a sturdy house with plenty of provisions to ride out the storm, but that countless other people in the same city were huddled together in leaky houses, hoping that their roofs would not blow off. To the north of us the farms, livelihoods and houses of people were at this very moment being destroyed, while they and their families waited out the storm (hopefully safely) in crowded mass evacuation centres. I knew that we would soon be hearing tallies of people dead and missing, of damage to crops and businesses, about hardship as the prices of rice and other basic commodities rose in response to the disaster. I felt keenly the helplessness of being aware of other people’s suffering, and knowing I could do nothing to prevent it.
I was also dismayed by the seeming inevitability and injustice of it. I have already come across a few news articles predicting that, as always, the poor will be the ones to suffer most from this disaster. It is their shaky dwellings that are torn down first; it is they who are more catastrophically affected by loss of income, illness and rising prices.
 |
| Baggao, Philippines (Source) |
I remember an incident that first made me aware of the justice dimensions of the climate issue. It was a hot summer day in Manila (summers in Manila are hot!) and I was sitting in the house with a companion, sweating. I was due to fly home to Singapore for a vacation the next day, and commented that in Singapore it wouldn’t be so hot – there was air-conditioning everywhere, in the buses, trains, malls, buildings, etc.
My companion responded casually, “And that makes us even hotter here!”
That casual remark threw me, and sparked off some soul-searching. Around that time, Pope Francis had just released his encyclical on the environment, Laudato Si, addressed to all the people of the world. It provides tremendously insightful commentary on the pressing developmental issues that affect us all. In it, he points out “how inseparable the bond is between concern for nature, justice for the poor, commitment to society, and interior peace”. This means to say, our climate crisis is not merely an “environmental problem”. In disproportionately affecting the poor, it is a social justice problem. Therefore, “[we] must integrate questions of justice in debates on the environment, so as to hear both the cry of the earth and the cry of the poor”.
He also points out that the root of the problem is really spiritual, for both the climate crisis and the problem of poverty and inequality are born out of insecurity that creates in us an insatiable desire to accumulate more and more, whatever the cost to others. “The emptier a person’s heart is, the more he or she needs things to buy, own and consume.” But consumerism doesn’t really make us happy, and it is not sustainable! In fact, “obsession with a consumerist lifestyle, above all when few people are capable of maintaining it, can only lead to violence and mutual destruction.”
Therefore, he says, the ecological crisis calls us to interior conversion:
- To recognise that what we have is gift and to be grateful;
- To know that we are connected with all creatures and nature;
- To live simply and discover what really makes us happy: friendship and bonds with others, service, developing our gifts, music and art, contact with nature, prayer, etc.; and
- To stop our frantic, busy activity and cultivate inner peace in a balanced lifestyle, in harmony with God and nature.
What a simple invitation… but at the same time how profound – a lifetime’s challenge! For the sake of the poor and the earth, our common home, I hope that more and more people will feel called to respond… beginning with me.
Food for thought:
How am I invited to “interior conversion”?
Is there one concrete commitment I can make in response to the call to “hear both the cry of the earth and the cry of the poor”? (e.g. donating to a cause, reducing the use of single-use plastics, taking part in a “Season of Creation” event, etc.)
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