- A charity that knows no break
- The singular weight of Flores
- Colombia, a wound still open
- The discreet role of the Dicastery for Charity
- What the simultaneity of catastrophes reveals about Providence
- The ordeal of God's silence before the trembling earth
- The double simultaneity as a sign of a Catholic Church in the fullest sense
- Flores, land of vocations, land of trial: a theology of resilient poverty
- Lectio divina
- ✝ Biblical references
From Rome, a single Vatican office is currently managing two open wounds on two distinct continents: the still-smoldering Colombian rubble of a 7.4 magnitude earthquake that struck on August 10, and the still-fresh ruins of the island of Flores, hit on August 15 by a 7.7 magnitude quake that left at least fifty-three dead and more than one hundred and thirty-five injured. This is no mere coincidence. It is a condensed, almost brutal in its intensity, illustration of what the universal solicitude of the successor of Peter concretely means: a charity that does not choose its field, that does not favor one hemisphere over another, and that must, in less than ten days, mobilize the same mechanisms of ecclesiastical solidarity twice for two peoples linked only by the same trembling earth and the same Christian hope.
On August 17, a telegram signed by Cardinal Secretary of State Pietro Parolin reached Archbishop Paulus Budi Kleden of Ende, on the island of Flores. In it, Pope Leo XIV conveyed that he had learned «with profound sadness» of the devastation caused by the earthquake in the province of Nusa Tenggara Oriental, expressing his «spiritual solidarity» with the many displaced and injured, while encouraging civil and ecclesiastical authorities to continue their humanitarian work. Almost exactly a week earlier, a similar gesture—this time accompanied by a concrete donation of one hundred thousand euros from the Dicastery for Charity—had been sent to the Church in Colombia following the 7.4 magnitude earthquake that struck the west and center of the country on August 10. Two gestures, two continents, one outstretched hand: it is this simultaneity that should stop us, for it reveals something essential about the nature of Christian hope in the face of the world's trembling.
A charity that knows no break
The singular weight of Flores
Flores is not like other Indonesian islands. In an archipelago where Islam is practiced by nearly 88% of the population out of 280 million inhabitants, this island in the Lesser Sunda Islands, along with Timor, is one of the few strongholds where Catholicism is the majority religion—between 70% and 90% depending on the area, a direct legacy of the Portuguese evangelization of the 16th century. It has approximately three million Catholics out of the country's eight million inhabitants, earning this province the nickname "the Catholic heart of the nation." It is a poor land—one of the poorest in Indonesia—but paradoxically fertile in religious vocations, with five minor seminaries and more than two hundred religious institutes scattered across an area only slightly larger than Campania. To strike Flores is to strike at the heart of a minority but vibrant Christianity, rooted in a geography of volcanoes and permanent seismic faults.
The papal telegram, addressed specifically to Archbishop Paulus Budi Kleden of Ende, is therefore not merely a matter of diplomatic protocol. It recognizes the spiritual centrality of this diocese within the Indonesian Catholic ecosystem, a diocese which, at this very moment, is coordinating the reception of thousands of displaced people living in precarious conditions. In the telegram itself, the Pope invokes "divine blessings of consolation and strength" upon the deceased and all those affected, while explicitly praying for the emergency personnel involved in the relief operations. This prayer for the rescuers—often overlooked in commentary—deserves to be highlighted: it situates the human act of rescue within an economy of grace, as a visible extension of divine charity itself.
Colombia, a wound still open
Just ten days earlier, the same mechanism had been set in motion for Colombia. The August 10th earthquake, measuring 7.4 on the Richter scale, had struck several cities in the west and center of the country, prompting a three-day national mourning period declared by the Colombian government. Pope Leo XIV then asked the Dicastery for Charity to send one hundred thousand euros to the Catholic Church in Colombia. These funds were then routed to the National Secretariat for Social Pastoral Care – Caritas Colombia, designated as the coordinating center for collecting and redistributing aid to the most affected dioceses. The statement from the Colombian Episcopal Conference specified that this sum constituted "an initial response intended to address the most pressing emergency situations," with the promise of additional aid as new needs were identified. Ten days later, this Colombian humanitarian management is far from over — it continues in parallel, in the shadow of the Indonesian earthquake which in turn takes center stage in ecclesiastical news.
This overlap in calendars is not insignificant for the theology of papal charity. It reveals a Church that does not close one chapter of suffering only to open another, but rather holds them together simultaneously, like a father who would not cease watching over a sick child because another has just fallen. This twofold vigilance, far from being a dilution of attention, on the contrary, intensifies it: it proves that papal solicitude is not a spotlight that moves from one point to another on the globe according to current events, but a fixed light that simultaneously embraces several points of distress.
The discreet role of the Dicastery for Charity
What makes this two-pronged response possible is a recently reorganized curial structure. Historically known as the Apostolic Almoner's Office, this institution was transformed into the Dicastery for Charity by Pope Francis through the apostolic constitution "Praedicate Evangelium." Its mission is unique within the Vatican structure: while most dicasteries deal with doctrine, diplomacy, or administration, this one concretely distributes aid and assistance in the name of the Roman Pontiff, particularly during major disasters. Since March 2026, the Spanish Augustinian bishop Luis Marín de San Martín has presided over this institution as Almoner to His Holiness, succeeding Cardinal Konrad Krajewski, who was appointed Metropolitan Archbishop of Łódź.
This biographical detail is not insignificant: Leo XIV, himself a member of the Augustinian order, chose to entrust this strategic post to a fellow Augustinian, a sign of the deliberate spiritual continuity between his own religious charism and his understanding of the exercise of papal charity. The constitution "Praedicate Evangelium" specifies that this dicastery makes concrete "the Pope's concern and closeness to those living in conditions of need, marginalization, or poverty." It is precisely this mechanism that, in ten days, had to be activated twice—first for Bogotá and its surroundings, then for Flores—proof that the structure itself is designed for repeated emergencies, not isolated exceptions.
What the simultaneity of catastrophes reveals about Providence
The ordeal of God's silence before the trembling earth
It would be easy, and theologically lazy, to stop at the emotional response. But earthquakes have always posed a formidable question to the Christian faith: where is God when the very ground becomes unstable? The prophet Isaiah, in an oracle famous for its harshness, dares to write: «Behold, the Lord is about to lay waste the earth and devastate it; he will overturn its surface and scatter its inhabitants» (Isaiah 24:1). This text, rarely pondered outside scholarly circles, should not be read as a naive punitive theology—the Church has long since rejected the idea that every natural disaster is a targeted punishment—but as an acknowledgment of the inherent fragility of creation itself, subjected since the Fall to a disorder that affects it even in its geological foundations. Saint Paul, in the Epistle to the Romans, formulates this intuition in a more serene but equally radical way when he evokes "the whole creation" which "groans in the pains of childbirth" (Rom 8:22) — a text that contemporary theology rereads precisely in the light of natural disasters, without ever seeing it as an act of divine vengeance, but rather as the sign of a cosmic expectation of redemption.
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This reading radically changes the way we receive the papal telegram. Leo XIV does not speak as a judge, but as a father who weeps with those who weep. His «profound sorrow,» far from being an empty formality, is part of a long patristic and magisterial tradition that sees papal compassion as a direct extension of Christ’s own compassion for the dead Lazarus, or for Jerusalem, which he mourns. The prophet Habakkuk, in a lament less frequently quoted than the usual psalms of lamentation, calls upon God with an intensity that resonates particularly strongly today: «The earth trembled, the nations were terrified» (Hab 3:6). This verse, taken from an almost apocalyptic hymn where the prophet contemplates the manifestation of divine power through cosmic upheavals, should not be instrumentalized as proof of a punitive divine intervention, but received as the expression of a biblical tradition that never evades the reality of the earthquake — it integrates it into a theology of history where God remains sovereign even when the earth seems to escape all human control.
The double simultaneity as a sign of a Catholic Church in the fullest sense
The word "Catholic" means universal. Rarely has this universality been so concretely tested as in these last ten days of August. A truly Catholic Church cannot afford to address the world's emergencies sequentially, as an organization with limited resources forced to prioritize might. On the contrary, it must demonstrate its capacity to simultaneously bear the burden of two continental crises without either being sacrificed to the other. This is precisely what the parallel handling of Colombia and Indonesia reveals: two envelopes of charity, two telegrams, two archbishops as recipients—Archbishop Paulus Budi Kleden for Ende, and the Colombian bishops coordinated by their episcopal conference—but a single source, that of the same Roman dicastery, driven by the same pastoral concern.
This dual mobilization also illustrates an often overlooked truth: papal charity does not wait for the world's media to focus on a disaster before acting, nor does it abandon it as soon as public attention shifts elsewhere. Even as eyes now turn to Flores, Colombian aid continues its journey to the devastated dioceses, with a discretion that is itself a form of fidelity. The Apostle James, in his very concrete epistle on faith proven by works, writes a sentence that seems tailor-made for this precise moment: «If a brother or sister is without clothes or daily food, and one of you says to them, «Go in peace, be warmed and filled,» without giving them the things which are needed for their bodies, what good is it?» (James 2:15-16). This passage, less spectacular than the great Gospel parables but of formidable demand, condemns precisely verbal charity without material translation — and this is exactly what the Vatican dicastery is trying to avoid by transforming each telegram of sympathy into a real financial flow to local Caritas.
Flores, land of vocations, land of trial: a theology of resilient poverty
There is a painful irony in seeing this strike precisely in the region that, throughout the Indonesian archipelago, most intensely embodies Catholic vitality. Flores, where only 15% of the population attends Mass weekly but where 70% identify as Catholic, and where there are more than two hundred religious institutes in a tiny territory, is also one of the poorest regions in the country. This coexistence of material poverty and a wealth of vocations is not an accidental paradox in the history of Christianity: it reflects a constant biblical intuition, that of a divine election that never favors the powerful. Psalm 113, in a verse that the liturgy often associates with the Magnificat but which retains its own power, proclaims that God «raises the poor from the dust, he lifts the needy from the ash heap» (Psalm 113:7). This image of ash is striking when one thinks of the ruins of Flores: it is precisely from this dust, literal this time, that the charity of the Church is striving today to raise up a people.
Father Luigi Galvani, a Camillian missionary on the island, had described Flores as a land which, despite its material poverty, is distinguished by «a particular richness» linked to its Catholic majority. This spiritual richness obviously does not negate the current material emergency—five thousand displaced people, devastated villages, a tsunami warning that added panic to the destruction—but it sheds light on how the universal Church must now accompany this community: not as a mere passive recipient of external aid, but as a local Church whose spiritual resilience has always been able to transform precariousness into missionary fruitfulness. It is this dialectic between material fragility and spiritual fruitfulness that Cardinal Pietro Parolin implicitly recognized by addressing the telegram directly to the local archbishop rather than simply issuing a general statement: it is a gesture of ecclesial closeness, not merely of diplomatic compassion.
It is also worth noting that this disaster occurred within a regional context where the Indonesian archipelago, located on the Pacific Ring of Fire, experiences almost constant seismic activity. The August 15 earthquake, whose epicenter was located at sea northeast of Nagekeo at a depth of ten kilometers, was followed by a tsunami warning that added a dimension of immediate emergency to the collective panic, forcing the evacuation of entire populations to higher ground. In this context, the Pope's words take on an additional significance: they not only offer solace after the fact, but also support a population still living under the threat of aftershocks and further tsunamis.
Lectio divina
«"The whole creation groans in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time." Romans 8:22.
You saw the earth tremble thousands of miles from home, and yet something within you stirred. What is it that groans, in this very moment, within your own life, without you yet knowing toward what rebirth it is leading you? Can you believe that this groan, yours as well as that of the Indonesian earth, is not a cry without a recipient? What would you do if you knew, with certainty, that this groan has already been heard?
You see the earth splitting open, Lord, and the houses of Flores collapsing in on themselves. You who never abandon creation to its own vertigo, hold the hands of the mothers searching for their children beneath the rubble. Be the stable ground beneath the feet of those who have no ground left. Make of our ashes a place of renewal. May every euro sent, every prayer whispered, become for them a sign that you have not turned away. Give birth within them, through this pain, to a new hope.
A hand outstretched on the still-warm dust, and in the distance, the sea slowly ebbing back towards its calm.
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Access the folder →✝ Biblical references
5 passages · 5 books
The righteous will live by their faith. (Habakkuk 2:4)
Dialogue with God on the suffering of the innocent and divine justice.
→ Explore the Habakkuk Codex
He has given us a child, a son has been given to us. (Isaiah 9:5)
The great prophet of salvation: judgment, consolation and announcement of the Suffering Servant.
→ Explore the Isaiah Codex
Faith without works is dead. (James 2:26)
Practical Christian wisdom: active faith, language, the poor, prayer and anointing of the sick.
→ Explore the Jacques Codex- Nepal underwater, the Church stands tall: when Rome's charity meets the prayer of the Dalits
- Nigeria: When the harvest overflows the granaries of unity
- The Suffering Body of the Church: Leo XIV, the Ebola Epidemic, and the Theology of Global Vulnerability
- When Africa sits at the Vatican table: Lucy Afandi Esipila and the theology of the periphery that governs
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. (Psalm 23:1)
150 poems and songs of Israeli prayer: praise, lamentation, thanksgiving.
→ Explore the Codex Psalms
The righteous will live by faith. (Romans 1:17)
Paul's great theological synthesis: sin, grace, justification, and life in the Spirit.
→ Explore the Roman Codex- Ezekiel will be a sign for you: everything he has done, you will do (Ezekiel 24:15-24)
- The righteous will live by their faithfulness (Ha 1:12 – 2:4)
- No creature can separate us from the love of God that is in Christ (Romans 8:35, 37-39)
- He predestined us to be conformed to the image of his Son (Romans 8:28-30)
- The Spirit himself intercedes with groanings too deep for words (Romans 8:26-27)
- The cross is not an option: it lies at the heart of every Christian vocation.
- «"He makes his sun rise on all" — Clement of Alexandria and the light that does not choose its recipients
- When love comes first: Thérèse of the Child Jesus and the God who always comes first
- When the Spirit is slow to come: the school of desire according to John of Avila
- «The woman who gives birth is in pain» — Adam of Perseigne and the mysterious fruitfulness of charity
- Nepal: When water sweeps everything away, the Church remains standing
- When four laypeople and a priest become the measure of Mexican faith
- Lebanon, land of resurrection: when the law finally renounces killing as punishment
- China: The thirty-seven-day silence, or the Vatican's art of delaying the truth
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With approximately 3,130 Catholics in the world's largest Muslim-majority nation, Indonesia is home to a numerically significant Catholic community spread across thousands of islands. Evangelization began in…
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