Yesterday, an earthquake measuring 7.3 struck Haiti, destroying much of the capital of Port-au-Prince and killing and injuring thousands. It is a terrible catastrophe to strike this fragile country, and I am grieving for the people who must respond to such a huge crisis. The suffering that many have endured and will continue to endure is extreme, unthinkable, yet I know that Haiti will rise from this convulsion, too.

As I continue writing my book on literature and the Haitian Revolution, I think about the kinds of convulsions that strike us all, both rich and poor. The rich are mostly shielded from economic downturns and are able to escape impending crises because of their greater mobility. But an earthquake comes with no warning and levels grand hotels as well as tumble-down shacks; indeed, the grand hotel is exactly where one doesn't want to be in an earthquake, crushed by levels of concrete from above or trapped in the debris. To be buried alive seems the greatest physical and mental torture of all.

This kind of large-scale devastation and loss of shelter returns us to the subject of homelessness, as a disaster like this can render anyone homeless and in need. I write this post as an appeal to help the people in Haiti in whatever way we can, with material aid or with sympathy and prayer; and let us also remember and help those who lack good and secure shelter in our own community.