Hendrik Hertzberg has a Talk of the Town piece in this week’s New Yorker (an issue that, by some miracle, actually arrived in Charlottetown during the week it was published!) about the reaction to the tsunami in which he writes, in part:
The terrible arbitrariness of the disaster has troubled clergymen of many persuasions. The Archbishop of Canterbury is among those newly struggling with the old question of how a just and loving God could permit, let alone will, such an undeserved horror. (Of course, there are also preachers, thankfully few, who hold that the horror is not only humanly deserved but divinely intended, on account of this or that sin or depredation.) The tsunami, like the city-size asteroid that, on September 29th, missed the earth by only four times the distance of the moon, is a reminder that, one way or another, this is the way the world ends. Mans laws are proscriptive, natures merely descriptive.
Catherine and I have been considering a sort of “working vacation” in Ljubljana this spring. Somewhere in the back of my mind I thought “at least it’s far, far from the ocean.” Then this morning I read, in this blog from Ljubljana that:
Ljubljana has a serious history of earthquake’s hits. The first one took place back in 1511, and after that one Ljubljana needed to be partly rebuilt. Then, in 1895 a massive earthquake destroyed much of the city, razing most of it to the ground.
Like George Jones sings “There’s no place to run and hide, For He knows where you’re at, God’s gonna get ‘cha for that.” Or better more positively, we are safe nowhere, so we’re equally safe everywhere.