Susan Sonntag's concept of "compassion fatigue" may be overused, but it certainly rings true. As does her suggested antidote: doing something about it--which, as a sidenote, is echoed by trauma research. When I think back to the things we heard about when I was growing up--when graphic images, let alone videos, were admittedly less accessible--I'm struck that they seemed to inspire sensitive me to speak out for the underdog, rather than weigh me down. Why? We always did something about any cause, big or small: compose a song about peace, write to people in government, learn about the culture in question, hear from someone from that area or even from a community member who was sent to stand there in solidarity. Above all, we prayed. Prayer isn't the "nothing" that we can "only" do. Results are rarely measurable, but it's vital both for the person or situation being prayed for, and us looking in.
Nowadays, I keep up to date with the news, but don't generally binge on in-depth analyses or watch the most graphic videos. If the intense-but-redemptive story is worth knowing, I'd rather read the book than watch the movie, because the news is full of enough violence for me. I sometimes wonder if me reaching the "breaking point" has to do with the fact that the violence is obviously part of a reported story, and therefore subject to distracting things like noticing how the story is being used to prop up a certain narrative. In comparison, if someone I love is suffering, I want to be right there in the thick of it, caring for them: I am there and seeing the real person in front of me. Even more importantly, though, is that when we are present, we can do something for the sufferer--not necessarily "fix" the situation, but at least be there. I think I tune out when I feel helpless to stop these disasters from happening, which begs the question: do I take prayer seriously enough?
I only mention the adult experience as well because until we find a way to deal with all the negative news that comes at us, we won't be able to help the children in our lives navigate it.
"What is a Christian’s task in these complex, bitter wars? To live out peace, to point to Jesus as the source of all peace and all forgiveness. To not let hate into our lives on any level, since even in its smallest and pettiest form, it’s the root of violence."
From outside of the Bruderhof movement, of Austria, of Europe: Thank you, Carolyn, for reminding your readers of Abraham Joshua Heschel, and for your (?) suggestions of tangible ways in which to counter the prevailing atmosphere of hostility and violence.
In my long life I have arrived at two insights from lessons taught by human history and experience: 1. not to rely on help from the Super-Natural; and 2. to be aware of historical facts that have led to present-day hostilities and violence. H.D.
“Just to be is a blessing. Just to live is holy.” I love this reminder.
Susan Sonntag's concept of "compassion fatigue" may be overused, but it certainly rings true. As does her suggested antidote: doing something about it--which, as a sidenote, is echoed by trauma research. When I think back to the things we heard about when I was growing up--when graphic images, let alone videos, were admittedly less accessible--I'm struck that they seemed to inspire sensitive me to speak out for the underdog, rather than weigh me down. Why? We always did something about any cause, big or small: compose a song about peace, write to people in government, learn about the culture in question, hear from someone from that area or even from a community member who was sent to stand there in solidarity. Above all, we prayed. Prayer isn't the "nothing" that we can "only" do. Results are rarely measurable, but it's vital both for the person or situation being prayed for, and us looking in.
Nowadays, I keep up to date with the news, but don't generally binge on in-depth analyses or watch the most graphic videos. If the intense-but-redemptive story is worth knowing, I'd rather read the book than watch the movie, because the news is full of enough violence for me. I sometimes wonder if me reaching the "breaking point" has to do with the fact that the violence is obviously part of a reported story, and therefore subject to distracting things like noticing how the story is being used to prop up a certain narrative. In comparison, if someone I love is suffering, I want to be right there in the thick of it, caring for them: I am there and seeing the real person in front of me. Even more importantly, though, is that when we are present, we can do something for the sufferer--not necessarily "fix" the situation, but at least be there. I think I tune out when I feel helpless to stop these disasters from happening, which begs the question: do I take prayer seriously enough?
I only mention the adult experience as well because until we find a way to deal with all the negative news that comes at us, we won't be able to help the children in our lives navigate it.
"What is a Christian’s task in these complex, bitter wars? To live out peace, to point to Jesus as the source of all peace and all forgiveness. To not let hate into our lives on any level, since even in its smallest and pettiest form, it’s the root of violence."
I needed to read this. Thank you.
Thanks Adelynne. It's something we need to keep reminding ourselves of.
From outside of the Bruderhof movement, of Austria, of Europe: Thank you, Carolyn, for reminding your readers of Abraham Joshua Heschel, and for your (?) suggestions of tangible ways in which to counter the prevailing atmosphere of hostility and violence.
In my long life I have arrived at two insights from lessons taught by human history and experience: 1. not to rely on help from the Super-Natural; and 2. to be aware of historical facts that have led to present-day hostilities and violence. H.D.
Thanks Hedda
But Jesus always took sides.