Pastor Doug Vernon, Minister of Pastoral Care
By Rev. Dr. Douglas Vernon
I first heard it more than fifty years ago, sitting in the congregation of the famed Riverside Church in New York City. It was the late 60s. I was a seminary student on a year-long internship, and I wanted to worship at the famed cathedral built by John D. Rockefeller.
The preacher that day was Rev. Dr. Ernest Campbell. His text was Luke 10:25-37—the parable of the Good Samaritan. Of course he praised the least likely character in the story for his compassionate response to the wounded man, while decrying the indifference of the two religious types who passed him by. A familiar story. All that was expected by all of us there. But then he suggested that, apart from the ritual reasons that may have caused them not to touch him, they might have been suffering from “compassion fatigue.”
I had never heard of that malady—like most of the worshippers in that magnificent sanctuary, I suspect. But over the decades since, I have heard it often, spoke of it frequently, and even felt it myself.
In a world of late-breaking news (almost always BAD), we need only glance at our iPhones or our computer screens to be bombarded with the latest catastrophe. Be it another horrific school shooting, a deadly natural disaster, or the senseless violence of war—all of which can feel like a constant, overwhelming onslaught of soul-crushing information.
Many sensitive persons simply turn away, turn off the source of the bad news, and throw up their hands with either a shout of, “Enough!” Or a whimper of, “It’s just too much.”
And have you noticed: most of the time these days, that’s what it feels like? We are deluged by the troubles of the world; from climate change and degradation, to man’s own inhumanity to man.
Like the Philistines of old, we may cry out, “Woe unto us,” when it seems like we are drowning in a world of hurt and danger. We are tempted to take to our beds, pull the covers over our heads, and shout, “World, go away!”
But we can’t, can we? For that is the very opposite of the way to which we are called by the vows of our Baptisms. Vows we took, or were taken for us as children, and then were affirmed in our own Confirmations. Remember?
“I renounce the spiritual forces of wickedness, reject the evil powers of this world, and repent of my sin.”
“I accept the freedom and power God has given me to resist evil, injustice and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves.”
“I confess Jesus Christ as my Savior, put my whole trust in his grace, and promise to serve him as my Lord, in union with the whole church which Christ has opened to people of all ages, nations and races.”
It’s said that the great reformer Martin Luther looked in the mirror every day, touched the crown of his head with water, and reminded himself, “I am a baptized Christian.” We could well do the same as a means of affirming our identity as “Christ followers,” whose call is to care, deeply and broadly for the “least of these.”
Methodism’s founder John Wesley declared, “The World is our parish,” and saw no one beyond or undeserving of God’s love. He logged a quarter of a million miles on horseback, all over the British Isles, in a lifetime of preaching, teaching, and attempting to meet the basic needs of people who were sorely in need of faith, hope, and love.
All of which is to say, we have a long and rich heritage of facing, indeed confronting, a needy and troubled world. We can’t help everybody, but we can hug as many as we can get our arms around—in one way or another.
As I exited my car this morning in the church parking lot, I saw someone pull up to the Blessing Box and remove some canned goods. Before I reached the front door, I encountered a couple of our members who had just finished making weekend lunches for children at the Waller Road Elementary School. The list of such PUMC ministries is long and impressive; even if we think we are only making a dent in the great need and suffering of our parish.
But we are not putting our proverbial “heads in the sand.” We are not looking away from hurt. We are not ignoring trouble. Why so? Because we’re among those who confess, “I can do all things in Christ.” Because we believe that we are indeed, “our brother’s keeper.” Because we have been commanded “to love our neighbor as ourselves.”
Even so, we too may experience compassion fatigue as we are bombarded from every direction with suffering and misery. Sometimes all we have energy for is a brief, “Lord, have mercy.” But that is at least something; an acknowledgment that we have seen and heard, and that our hearts are open to empathize, sympathize, indeed, to offer compassion.
In his letter to the Galatians, St. Paul advised, “Let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart. Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all….” (6:9-11b).
In this season of giving, may we “not faint, or grow weary” of offering compassionate concern and care to all of God’s people. To do so is, in the words of the Book of Discipline, “both our privilege and obligation.”
So will we walk in the Way of Love. Take heart, my friends. And may you be blessed to be a blessing.
Hopefully,
Pastor Doug