I used to like it when it rained. Curling up on a comfortable chair and drinking hot tea or hot chocolate by the window while it rained outside. Perhaps even reading a good book. It used to be so enjoyable when it rained. But then I remembered a song that my dad would always play and sing when I was little. It was a song by the famous Venezuelan singer and songwriter, Alí Primera, who sang about social justice–he was the voice of the poor and the workers. The title of the song is Casas de Cartón, literally translated, Cardboard Homes.
The song is about rain and about how sad rain sounds whenever it falls on the roofs of the cardboard homes. Many houses in Venezuela were made of cardboard. And those who dwell in them–different from me–do not like it when it rains.
And there lies one of the main paradoxes of the Christian. How are we to enjoy the beauties of nature while they mean catastrophes and tragedies to many others instead? How are we to enjoy food and drink while there are so many who spend their days with nothing to eat? How are we to enjoy our comfort while there are so many in agony?
Rain and everything else in nature were given to us by our Creator as gifts, just as food and drink, and a place to dwell. Of course, we are called to enjoy those gifts and to give thanks to the Lord for them. The Father causes rain to fall on everyone (Mt 5:45)–a common gift to all–but the fact that there are those who cannot enjoy the gifts coming from our heavenly Father, but instead causes pain and suffering, should alarm us and prompt us into action. Here is the paradox that the Christian has to somehow be able to live: to be of this world, but not of this world. We are part of this world, because we actively participate in creation and with a community of peoples. At the same time, we are not part of this world, because we do not limit our horizons to the temporal, but we instead fix our eyes on the divine–on the heavens and the life that Christ has promised us. We need to know how to live in this world, but not be so absorbed in it that we forget about the life that is to come, because as St. Josemaría Escrivá said, “optimism should be a consequence of our faith.”
We, Christians are relief where there is suffering, hope where there is anxiety, love where there is hatred, light where there is darkness. We, Christians are not comfortable and static people. We are, rather, a nomad people. We do not sit and enjoy the ride. Instead, we stand up and enjoy and suffer the walk towards the kingdom of heaven… taking as many as we can with us.
Que triste suena la lluvia (How sad does rain sound)
en los techos de cartón. (on the roofs of the cardboard homes)
Que triste vive mi gente (How sad it is how my people live)
en las casas de cartón (in the cardboard homes)Viene bajando el obrero (There comes down the worker)
casi arrastrando sus pasos (almost dragging his feet)
por el peso del sufrir. (because of the weight of suffering)
Mira que mucho ha sufrido! (Look at how much he has suffered!)
Mira que pesa el sufrir! (Look at how much suffering weighs!)Arriba deja a la mujer, preñada. (Up there he leaves his wife, pregnant)
Abajo está la ciudad (Down there is the city)
y se pierde en su maraña. (and he gets lost in its mess)
Hoy es lo mismo que ayer (Today is the same as yesterday)
en su mundo sin mañana (in a world with no tomorrow)
–Excerpt from Casas de Cartón
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