Both Oars In All that’s needed is love, limitless love

May 14, 2010

In the movie version of Sue Monk Kidd’s Secret Life of Bees, August Boatwright, played beautifully by Queen Latifah, paraphrases the author’s insightful commentary on the difficulty of human love in real time. In a pearly wise voice, she laments, “We like to believe that love is pure and limitless. But, love like that is not possible in hateful times.” Unfortunately, hateful times change names, but never seem to disappear entirely from the world.  

The absolute accuracy of this succinct social indictment of the fallen human condition struck me. A missionary in an economically poor country, I spend days working in a stew of human virtues and vices and nights trying to sort out how it happens that we, who are so capable of unconditional love, often end up giving and receiving a lot less. My last reflection of the evening, when I am capable of real honesty, is a self-study of what limits and adulterates my love. Embarrassingly, given the relative ease of my life, I think its fear of survival as well. 

I was born at the end of 1964, so my memories of the racial struggles culminating in the Civil Rights movement are all second hand. I was probably ten when I first heard my mom retell a story about being concerned for her male African-American friend who kindly offered to give her a ride to deliver a cake to his wife at work. She was pregnant and showing and it was Indiana in the early 50’s.  Somehow I understood what she meant when she said, “He was nervous the whole trip.” But, thankfully, those times were largely past by my youth.  

I also remember many inspiring stories about another of my mom’s friends, who like June in the movie, was an amazing African-American teacher at a difficult time in our history.  This strong, cultured woman figures prominently in the education of several of my siblings. Fortunately for me, I never had to pass her English class since even my genius brother thought she was difficult.  But her reputation for rigor in English, something my brother remembers knowing before he knew she was African-American, certainly made me more attentive to the teachers I did have.  

These stories of hope and pain from our own turbulent past have given me some help in understanding my second country. However, the culprit of Haiti’s messed up circumstance is not as clearly identifiable as the racial discrimination of our US history.  The most recent abuses, even if they are a byproduct of the original damage done by the slavery of old, have been perpetrated by fellow Haitians, not foreigners or people of a wholly different race. The world about Haiti may still be guilty of sins of omission, but the overt crimes against humanity on this end of Hispaniola have been largely home grown of late.   

In fact, although seemingly impossible given the infinite pain and suffering caused by slavery, Papa Doc’s deconstruction of Haitian society may prove to surpass the damage done by the earlier heinous institution of slavery. Papa Doc’s divisive methods often made it impossible for even immediate family members to extend love without limit to one another. The hateful circumstances he created reduced rich and poor to survival mode. Love without limit became a risk few felt they could afford to take. In essence, he destroyed the country right down to its basic unit.  

I wonder if it is the vestiges of the hateful circumstance that Papa Doc created to maintain his power, not globalization or lack of natural resources, that keeps Haiti poor and the world distant.  It is no excuse, but it is not easy to build trust and cooperation where love has been so deeply and completely eradicated on a social level. And, as the rest of Ms. Kidd’s story suggests, you cannot move forward without being loved and loving others.  

Will things change now? After the earthquake shook the world out of its apathy, Haiti has been flooded with things of every kind and relief groups of every sort. The World community seems willing to try almost anything to help. Countries from around the world have sent troops, money and development experts. Self-motivated evangelists, teachers and entrepreneurs have shown up on their own.  All have come to fix, aid and repair this broken country. But, how many are prepared to love without limit? Am I?