Even heroes have their foibles

Two weeks ago, networks worldwide broadcast the historic rescue of 33 Chilean miners, who for more than two months had been buried alive after part of the San Jose copper-gold mine collapsed. The miraculous extraction, meticulously maneuvered by collaborative international efforts, ended after the Fenix 2 rescue capsule completed its 39th journey up and down an engineered rescue shaft. While underground rescue workers waved a banner brandishing the message “Mission Accomplished Chile,” President Sebastian Pinera led Camp Hope, and the world, in “Cancion Nacional,” Chile’s national anthem. And for a moment, we were all Chilean.

Once unearthed from their two-month entombment, the 33 miners have discovered new captivity in fame’s spotlight. And as talks of TV and movie offers emerge, as well as a book deal detailing the miners’ survival one half mile below ground, something else so human has surfaced from the San Jose Mine.

Discord.

An alleged pact made by all 33 miners to never disclose details of the first 17 days they were trapped has now been broken. And despite a signed pledge to evenly split all proceeds from media attention, rescued miner Jorge Galleguillos told Reuters, “I have to think about myself,” when admitting he would speak of the miners’ experience for a fee.

“There are certain things which need to be told. I want the world to know the truth about what we went through down there,” rescued miner Mario Sepulveda told Britain’s Daily Mail, refuting rumors of cannibalism and male sex among the miners while trapped underground for 69 days. “We were swallowed into the bowels of hell, but we have been reborn, and now I feel it is my duty to tell what went on and the lessons to be learned.”

Yonni Barrios, the miner made famous by his exposed extra-marital affair with mistress Susana Valenzuela, is among those discussing the 10-week survival after the mine cave-in. Despite widespread public praise for shift foreman Luis Urzua’s leadership during the days, weeks and months that followed the mine’s collapse, Barrios has openly criticized Urzua, describing him as having “lost control” after the collapse, and stating that “in the most critical moments, he wasn’t with us.”

The miners’ survival stories continue to surface, shedding light on their time buried alive in a rock and rubble grave. And despite the developing discord among the men, I’m encouraged by the unity that defied death’s odds and led to their extraction from the San Jose mine.

Perhaps as Barrios claims, Luis Urzua wasn’t “with” his men in their most critical moments. Yet, nations worldwide were with these miners — from the moment of the cave-in on Aug. 5 to the first freedom cry on Oct. 12.

I am among the worldwide citizens who read daily news reports of the rescue efforts. I am among the masses who, hours before Operation San Lorenzo, prayed to my God for the safety and rescue of these trapped men. I am among the one billion viewers who anxiously awaited the ascent of these 33 miners as Fenix 2 descended into the San Jose mine. And I am among the multitudes who witnessed a miracle for both the Chilean miners and mankind on a campground appropriately called Camp Hope.

For but a moment, nations across the globe were united by one shared cause — the rescue of 33 Chilean miners. Pop-culture icons cast aside, our newfound heroes were wage workers donning hard hats — and yes, Oakley sunglasses. These “regular folk,” forced into a do-or-die survival strategy, inspired a cross-cultural coalition, and a “Camp Hope” for what our world can accomplish when working together and with our God. Miracles.