Horrified by the violence and suffering that is growing in the world, I struggle to keep my balance, to absorb the news without shutting down. Wars in Ukraine, Sudan, Iran, and a dozen other hot spots have killed tens of thousands and displaced millions. The numbers are so large they have become a sanitized abstraction, removed from the raw level of slicing pain I can comprehend. Every bomb or missile that lands creates another tragedy – a family without heat or drinking water, a child orphaned, a hospital in ruins. I feel the urge to help, to stop the parade of cruelty, hoping my small actions matter even in the face of hardship at such enormous scale.
It’s easy to despair that after so many millennia, we haven’t made more progress. It seems humanity has been breaking bones and crushing hearts since time began. I take guidance, and perhaps comfort, from the wisdom traditions that teach us suffering is the symptom of a broken world, and that my small actions are needed to hasten its repair.
All traditions honor this impulse to render aid to those in need. Matthew says Jesus implored us to feed the hungry and care for the stranger. Buddhism places right action and right livelihood at the foundation of the eight-fold path. Zakat, the obligation to provide for the poor, is one of the five pillars of Islam. Talmudic teaching holds that we must all join in the work of repairing the world: “It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you at liberty to neglect it.” The last, for me, is the clearest reminder that I must not be daunted by the impossible magnitude of the task. The obligation is not to complete, but to participate.
I know a teaching holds true wisdom when it can speak to us at different times on our growth journey. Early on, we understand these instructions as commands. We help others because we are told to. The requirement comes from divine law, a moral code, or other external source. As we mature, we come to see that the repair we offer the world also repairs ourselves. All the painful evils that we hate – greed, fear, desire for power, self-protection – have their seeds in us as well. These seeds can grow if aggravated in the wrong direction. Part of my horror is the subtle recognition that, in the right circumstances, I am capable of cruelty myself. When empathy stirs in me, it interrupts the destructive cycle, giving me space to find myself and take compassionate action. Each act of mercy is itself a repair, a saving grace, a tending in the right direction.
I don’t know if we’ll ever complete the work. Perhaps it can only come at the end of the human journey, when we have finally wounded and healed enough and learned what we came here to learn. I have an image in my mind of the last band of human beings performing the last act of compassion before graduating from the school of earthly form and cycling off to their next assignment, looking back at a broken world made whole. It’s a vision that reminds me that we carry the seeds of goodness too.
Photo by Mohammed Ibrahim on Unsplash
I have some experience in the sacred process of reporting tragic news without being crushed by it or becoming hardened by it. The answer is in those two words — sacred and process. We are called to witness these events at this time. It is not by accident that we are here now. Our compassion is evidence of progress. With each tear, we build empathy. And we are not alone. It is a movement and our energy is building around the globe. So we cry and then we take action in our own way. I do not despair because I do not have the right to despair. I am here for a reason. Never ever ever give up.
Thank you, Donna (and Steve), for shining a light of hope and recognition that all is not lost. I completely agree. I’m here for a reason. I’m here to exercise compassion, empathy and action where I am called and acknowledge others who are doing the same. And I am learning and forgiving along the way.
Gloria, it is good to hear from you. Thanks for adding your comment. It’s good to know I’m in the same boat as you and Donna. Let’s keep rowing!
As a journalist, you have been immersed in the sacred process more than most. Thanks for your moving words. I agree we are not alone and that our work bolsters the world and each other.