Please listen to me
On Thursday, March 4, four of us set off for Pencahue, Chile, to bring help to the victims of the earthquake. I also wanted to visit my sister who lost her entire house. But God and technical advancements made it possible to go beyond our original intentions.
The mass destruction of homes, businesses, dreams, and hopes got mixed up with optimism, and wishes for rebuilding in communities like Pencahue, which lost about a thousand homes, according to partial local government data.
The stories heard and related are so many. The people were living outside their homes from being afraid, or simply because their homes no longer existed. We saw babies sleeping on the street, senior citizens crying and trying to explain through their faith the great devastation caused by the enormous temblor [tremor]. The stories moved the hearts of some of the listeners so much that they had to fight back tears; and yet the heart would cry out inconsolably, as when a woman came to us to tell us, “I don't want any help. Thanks to God, I am alive and have something to survive on. What I want is that you listen to me.” Who could resist breaking down at hearing of women coming to blows over some food, or about men and women crushed by walls falling on top of them; or when hearing children crying out: “We need help over here too.” 
I could tell you a thousand other stories, describe another thousand faces, or the story of the reunion of a father with his son in Iloca. We picked up this father from the highway and accompanied him during tense minutes searching, asking, calling out for his son's whereabouts: “where is he staying,” “who is looking after him,” and how we finally found the home and how they ran into each other’s arms in a shower of hugs; two people who we thought would probably never see each other again, but whose frantic moments of search and then encounter will live on in our minds.
Finally, the quake is past, and the sea has returned to its normal place. But today we can see the first human reactions to the violent phenomenon. The emotional aftermath can be felt everywhere. People are still shaken up and are afraid of noises, and are suffering from the effects of exhaustion, from their inability to tell and retell what they went through. That trauma is manifested through physical signs. Material needs are important, but let’s not forget the other dimensions of human life. The unspoken words and untold experiences must be spoken and related. The reconstruction of this country is not only about houses; it is moral too. We cannot deny the looting or pretend that it never happened. The spiritual and psychological worlds are also damaged and in need of repair.
The truth is that words cannot express what we felt and experienced. At the end of over one thousand kilometers of our journey, Fernando remarked how what we lived through is even harsher than what is seen on television. Indeed it was more raw. I believe the answer is that television cannot broadcast the smells, the dreams, and the stories told over a hot cup of mate[tea] while sharing a crunchy sopaipilla. I believe that, because of what happened to us, we could touch Christ’s wounds, and feel with Him the pain of feeling abandoned by His Father. The victims were other Christs calling out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Without a doubt, He allowed us to touch that moment and to share it with the Christs of today, but we could also share the words of hope spoken by Jesus: “Into your hands I commend my spirit.” As an older woman put it: “God has given me this experience, so I could walk through it with Him.”
Fr. Alvaro Martinez SSC is currently working in Santiago, Chile.
Watch a collection of photos showing the devastation of the Chilean Earthquake
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