For G-d So Loved Haiti

Finally, why else, dear child, would God make our life so hard yet so sweet on an island so beautiful yet so, so fragile? Think about it: The moral of most stories in the Bible is that God’s chosen people, Adam, Eve, Abraham, the whole lot, will constantly be asked by Him to make the greatest personal sacrifices possible to honor His mysterious glory. The way we Haitians suffer misfortune, deprivation, and disproportionate foreign enmity is right in line with the fate of chosen peoples throughout history. Biblically speaking anyway. God may love us too much, I’d say.
    —Dimitry Elias Léger, God Loves Haiti

It was a muggy autumn afternoon when I finally managed to squeeze my way to the front of a service at Shalom. I normally preferred to hang toward the back—the only foreigner, curious and awed by the crush of bodies pressed in together, sometimes as many as twenty thousand, though church leaders boasted of crowds twice that size for special prayer events. But this was a quiet Saturday, only about eight thousand people in attendance, and I eased my way down, down, down one of several long staircases that fanned out in a semicircle to a spot near the front. A full band played on the side of a large white stage framed by giant screens and speakers, draped fabric, and bright flower arrangements. Short runways extended out from the stage almost to the first row of seats, the spaces between them empty now, though I’d seen them filled up and swimming with bodies on other occasions. Shalom’s thick wall of sound hit me from all sides. One of the pastors, glowing bright in the midday sun, bellowed into a microphone in Creole with such force he made the speakers fuzz:

“To all the things that aren’t right: Flush them! Flush them! Flush them!”

Eight thousand people yelled back with gusto: “Flush them! Flush them! Flush them!” Some kept their eyes closed, pushing their arms down and out in front of their bodies to punctuate each “flush.” Smaller speakers and flat screens were mounted throughout the seating areas, looping mute footage of dramatic chariot-ride scenes from biblical movies to promote upcoming events at the church—“Crossing the Red Sea” was the theme of one. Industrial fans whirred overhead, hanging from the sun-warmed metal roof, delivering mild respite from the heat. Télé Shalom’s TV cameras rolled, broadcasting the sermon live. The pastor’s voice softened. “If you’re not converted yet,” he cooed, “come join me up here.”

People fanned out from their seats and down the steps to join him onstage, and he asked this group of new believers to repeat after him:...