It can be called “bad news overload.”
A friend describes the experience as a “glazing over” of the mind and soul when in the constant presence of upsetting or troubling news.
Our response (or lack of response) to such circumstances has often been named “compassion fatigue.”
How many situations, needy people, disasters and international crises can we care about at one time? Perhaps your community of faith, like many, has struggled with “emergency offerings” which come one right after another, Sunday after Sunday; prayer concerns that swell in number beyond naming or the distractions of too many “crises of the moment.”
Just beginning with Sept. 11, 2001, we have become aware of the needs of the victims of terrorism, the struggles of military families, the worsening effects of global warming on the environment, the economic impact of rising fuel prices, ethnic cleansing in the Darfur region of western Sudan and eastern Chad, victims of the great tsunami and Hurricane Katrina, the moral and ethical costs of state-sponsored torture, and the suffering of both veterans and civilian victims of the war in Iraq.
Sometimes I find my mind starting to close protectively as the news of some new major concern hits the airwaves or Internet, and my monetary and prayer responses to needs are often driven by the causes that have the loudest spokesperson, able to be heard over the static of competing, worthy claims.
I don’t know if the problem is that there are more things to be concerned about today than there were 20 or 40 years ago or if modern technology has simply made it easier for such news to reach us from many directions at once. Whatever the answer, just keeping up with the needs of God’s world these days is like trying to take a drink from a fire hose.
There are many ways to respond to such a situation.
Certainly, one can see the attraction of shutting out the world entirely for the short-term.
Thomas Merton writes in The Seven Storey Mountain that mail and visitors to his monastery were withheld during Lent in order to allow a more total focus on God.
While I have no vocation to be cloistered or a hermit, turning away from the busy world for a season has much to recommend it, even if it is simply for a daily prayer time, a weekly Sabbath, or an annual retreat.
Another solution is to create space in our lives for the nonmomentous.
Even with world-shattering events flying past at unbelievable speeds, there is virtue in walking the dog, scrubbing the pan, perfecting one’s tuna casserole or kneading the dough for the rolls for Saturday’s supper.
It is everyday events and activities that feed our souls, and we neglect routine and ordinary moments at a great cost. It is in the “everyday” that perspective is born.
Finally, it is necessary – I would argue – that we prioritize our passions.
God is entirely capable of absorbing and knowing and understanding and responding to the constant crises that arise on our planet, and for every need there is a solution in the divine economy.
The question for the individual person of faith, it seems to me, is not “how do I care equally about the many needs that come my way,” but rather “how has God uniquely gifted me to respond to some particular situation in the days or months or years to come?”
Sometimes our causes find us through personal tragedy or other circumstance; sometimes we come to “own” one cause or another through prayerful reflection on our own gifts. No matter how the Divine has led us to our purpose in life, however, elevating a handful (and no more) of critical concerns to the top of our personal “list” means substantially letting go of others.
We cannot be all things to all people at all times, but on one given day we can be something to someone, and perhaps there is more courage and spiritual nobility in that than in flying off in many directions at once.
The Rev. Thomas L. Blackstone, Ph.D., is a United Methodist pastor in Presque Isle and a brother in the Order of St. Luke. He may be reached via tlbphd@yahoo.com. Voices is a weekly commentary by Maine people who explore issues affecting spirituality and religious life.
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