Imagine a dangerous apartment fire, perpetrated by an arson ring. Some residents have fled but others are still trapped inside, screaming for help, as the flames slowly spread throughout the complex. Several fire trucks rush to the scene, sirens blaring, and a crowd of firefighters approach the inferno, staring grimly into the twisting flames. The situation is dire, but it's still possible to bring the fire under control.
Then, one by one, they gather into a circle and begin to weep.
"I am responsible for this fire,"one whispers, tossing aside her gas mask.
Several firefighters nod and repeat her words, like a mantra.
"It's my fault." "I am just as responsible as the arson." "I am an arson."
"Why must these tragedies happen?" another says, helplessly letting the fire hose fall from his numb hands. "I am consumed with sorrow."
"Again," one mourns. "When did this start happening? When will it end?"
"I am broken," says another. "I feel no anger at the fire, only brokenness."
The emergency response captain nods approvingly. "Stopping fires begins with the recognition that we are just as guilty as the arson, and our attempts to help may be just as destructive as the fire itself, because we too are fascinated by fire. Let us now join our cries with those of the victims, to demonstrate that we are no better off than them, that we don't claim to have the answers either, that we weep with them and feel their pain."
Their voices are then lifted up in perplexed sadness, a cry of confused sorrow, until the screams from inside the apartment are cut off suddenly as a large portion of the building collapses, spreading the flames to the adjoining complex as well.
Seeing the inferno begin to spread, the fire department cries harder, unused high pressure water hoses dampened by their tears.
Later, the arson ring explains to the local news that it would be unjust for them to be held responsible for starting fires, since they were traumatized by fire fighters as children, but the fire department's response falls far short of what they would need for real recovery. "We expect to start a lot more fires before our pain is understood and healing can begin."
The fire department promises to cry more sincerely more next time.
. . .
Real firefighters, unlike those in this story, run into harm's way first; they save lives and do their jobs, and deal with the very real emotional consequences later. As the Church, we are called to weep with those who weep, but a Church emotionally traumatized by tragedy, as if suffering were an unnatural oddity by which to be stunned into inaction and confusion, is not a Church equipped to bless the world. The world is and has always been full of evil, sorrow, and suffering. That's the world the Bible is written to, and the world we're called to love and serve in.
Emotions are part of who we are, but so is logic, and so is action. There is work to be done, plans to be made, victims to assist and workers of evil and chaos to bring to justice. The problems we see on the news every day recently didn't crop up overnight, they're the result of tough long-term problems that require tough long-term solutions, if any exist.
And many solutions don't exist; you can't solve Human Sin with good intentions or even good action, let alone by "raising awareness" on social media. You are stuck in a world with no solution.
That's why the gospel is the good news and not some good news for when your faith in the goodness of humanity falters. (a non-biblical conception if I ever heard one)
But rather than recoiling in stunned helplessness, or navel-gazing and turning the world's problems into fodder for indulging our own guilt complexes, let's roll up our sleeves and engage the world with the Truth that changes minds and the Love that changes hearts. The world can't be saved, but many souls can, and the responsibility of bringing life-saving truth to them is yours and mine. There will be time for tears along the way, but first let's get moving.
