Courageous Love
Left to Tell: Discovering God Amidst the Rwandan Holocaust, chronicles the ninety-one days that Immaculee Llibagiza and six other women spent stuffed into a three-by-four foot bathroom while almost one million of their fellow citizens were being tortured and killed. Placed in this refuge by a caring, brave pastor, they were instructed clearly and simply to remain completely silent, or they would be discovered and die. What is most chilling about this story is the author's realization that the people seeking her death were not strangers, but people well-known to her and her family. Ms. Llibagiza writes that, "There were many killers. I could see them in my mind: my former friends and neighbors, who had always greeted me with love and kindness, moving through the house with spears and machetes and calling my name. 'I have killed 399 cockroaches,' they chanted, 'Immaculee will make 400. That is a good number to kill.'"
What is most amazing about this story, this woman, is her faith, and through that faith her ability to forgive the people who killed her family and heal her own life. Dr. Wayne W. Dyer said of Ms. Llibagiza in a recent email I received introducing her book, "Immaculee's journey will undoubtedly change the way we view faith - forever. It's a story of love for God that was so strong that hatred and revenge were forced to dissolve in its presence." In this same email, Dr. Christiane Northrup shared her thoughts: "Immaculee is a stunningly beautiful woman who emanates peace and light. Her story is one that confirms the existence of a power of Divine Source. After reading her book I came to understand and trust at a whole new level that true communion with God is possible for every one of us." Immaculee Llibagiza is someone who has lived into Jesus words: "By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for on another(John '2:35)."
As you read these words people's lives are, again, literally being destroyed. Sudanese government militia have invaded the Darfur region of their own country and are burning people's homes to the ground and systematically killing whole families - men, women and children. The violence is now moving across the Western border of Sudan into Chad and into the refugee camps that offer only minimal protection from the violence. In a recent news release from the international relief organization, Care, another woman's story was told. Zeriba is twenty-two years old. Her home was burned and as she ran for her life with her children, the militia followed them to steal their cattle, the only resource she had left. While she and her family escaped, they had to walk for days to reach a refugee camp. She gave birth to her twins two days after arriving at the camp, but could not bear to name them until they had survived a full week.
Thousands of people are living in these camps, people who have no shelter from the weather or continuous raids by the militia. They do not have enough food or water. Zeriba is one among so many that her full story will likely never be known.
But make no mistake. This is another holocaust. In what is being called the first genocide of the twenty-first century, 180,000 people have already been murdered in the last three years and another 200,000 have been forced from their homes. Imagine that everything you depend on, everything you are sure of in your life was suddenly torn away and you were left standing with nothing but fear propelling you forward with pure survival instinct. That is what the people of Darfur are feeling right now.
Immaculee Llibagiza's journey is one I pray that I am only faced with sharing in the reading of her book. But I am compelled to open my heart to the deep pain and horror she and her country faced. As I have learned of her story and the life-threatening events unfolding in Darfur, it is clear to me that one informs the other and we cannot ignore either if we are, as people of faith, to claim any connection to living that faith accurately in God's name. When we speak of Biblical martyrs, Jesus' words about whom we should fear are often quoted, a reminder that eternal life is the real focus, not the number of years we are given here on earth. I cannot quote those words here without feeling shallow and ashamed, knowing my faith requires and demands more of me. I do not know what it is to look murderous evil in the face and live.
What happened in Rwanda was horribly wrong. What is happening now in Darfur is even more horribly wrong because we are aware of what is happening. Our own president has said another holocaust would not happen on his watch. Again, as people of faith we have a moral obligation and a faithful obligation to discern how to be and to act in this situation. The simple truth is that our faith, though personal, is not a solo act. We were created for community and the people healing in Rwanda and those needing our help in Darfur are part of our community. There are many choices of faith to be made, those of prayer for safety and refuge, research to understand this conflict and the people involved, contributions of our voices to political actions that can help protect the Sudanese people, and choices to contribute to the organizations in Darfur who are providing for the immediate needs of refugees seeking hope and peace from their pain and suffering.
Even though Immaculee Llibagiza's journey is highly personal, something we may never be able to fully grasp or understand, she is also a part of our community. She is able to teach us forgiveness and love as active tools of God's grace in the face of humanity turned evil. She is able to teach us by stunning example what it is to hold fast to God and God's love in the face of death times one million souls. A Buddhist saying I encountered several years ago speaks of forgiveness in these words: "Because of deep love, we are courageous." I believe this is the kind of love Jesus spoke of, and the quality and power of forgiveness born of this love cannot be underestimated.