By MARIANN EDGAR BUDDE*
Sermon by the bishop who attended Donald Trump's inauguration
“One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to him, “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two small fish. But what are these among so many?”[I]
(John 6:8-9)
At the grocery store near my house, people often stand at the entrance asking for financial help, or asking for signatures or donations for a cause. I rarely stop to talk to them. I usually stop by the store to buy groceries on my way home from work or after visiting my mother, with little energy left to interact with anyone.
This is not an example of what is known as compassion fatigue. In my case, it is simply fatigue. Everyone close to me knows what I am like when I am tired, and suffice it to say, I am not at my best. No one is, and that is why we all need moments of rest and renewal.
Compassion fatigue, on the other hand, is an emotional condition caused by the unrelenting demands of caring for others in intense and highly stressful settings, such as poor health and education settings, disaster areas, and war zones. Compassion fatigue can lead to lethargy, depression, and substance abuse. It often includes what is known as “secondary traumatic stress,” when caregivers are traumatized by continued exposure to others’ trauma.
Given the state of our world and the intense suffering of so many people, those who are called to the surface when floods come, bombs fall, when food runs out, or when bullets tear through human flesh are the unsung heroes of our time. The cost to their bodies and souls is immense. Because so many instances of suffering can last for years, compassion fatigue is compounded by the sense that there is no end in sight.
Whether you are among the caregivers and rescuers of human suffering, or whether you are among those who dedicate their lives to addressing the most intractable issues of our time, thank you.. May God's mercy and compassion sustain you, and may you give yourself permission to draw water from the wells that replenish you,[ii] for you, too, need rest. In addition, I remind myself and others, who are not as close to suffering as you are, of our responsibility to support you and, whenever possible, to join in your deep ministry of presence and care.
But rest is not the only thing we need to live a life of ongoing compassion and closeness to suffering. We also need hope. “Hope,” the scholar of Old testment Walter Brueggeman, “you don’t need to silence the rumors of the crisis to be hopeful.” In fact, the opposite is true. Hope is what gets us through the storm.
Our Jewish friends and neighbors have just celebrated their holiest days, or days of wow: Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, and Yom kippur, the Day of Atonement. Founder of the IKAR synagogue in California and author of The Amen Effect, Sharon Brous, a rabbi I admire greatly, preached a sermon on Rosh Hashanah entitled “a hope born from the depths of sadness.” She began with a somber recitation of the past year’s sadness until her listeners were surely wondering when the hopeful part would come. She acknowledged how tempting it is, amid so much pain, to withdraw into oneself. “What are we supposed to do,” she asked, “when there are fires raging all around us?”
It was only then that Rabbi Sharon Brous spoke of hope, not as optimism or positive thinking, but as a fundamental orientation toward life, rooted in our God’s constant invitation to choose against despair. “Hope,” she said, “is not a feeling. It is a core value and a spiritual practice. Hope must be practiced.”
Sharon Brous continued her sermon, speaking primarily to those who are not closest to the suffering we all mourn, but to those, like most of us, who are two or three steps away, and who wonder what to do. “It is not enough,” she said, “to look at others with admiration for their dedication. We must support and amplify their efforts.”
Nothing is more disheartening to those closest to human suffering than to endure the indifference of others who could be helpful but choose to ignore or, worse, offer cynical and uninformed opinions from a safe distance.
Hope, however, and the willingness to lend a hand, to donate resources, to offer a word of encouragement, can be the best antidote to compassion fatigue. Knowing that others see what is happening and care enough to lend a hand and make an offering, however small, provides a lifeline to the broader human community. It helps those who carry the heaviest burdens not feel so alone.
Sharon Brous concluded her sermon with a famous quote from renowned Israeli author Amos Oz, who was a staunch advocate of the two-state solution for Israel and Palestine in his life. He, like Rabbi Sharon Brous, refused to accept that hatred and violence should always define the relationship between Israelis and Palestinians.
Amos Oz was once asked, considering all that was broken in the world, what people should do. “There is indeed a great fire of hatred burning around us”, he replied. “Our choices are these: We can run for our lives. We can write an angry letter (or, in our day, a social media post). Or we can grab our bucket and pour water on the fire. If we don’t have a bucket, we can grab our cup. If we don’t have a cup, we can grab a little spoon and pour some water on the fire.”
Surely we all have a little spoonful of hope and love to offer this world, even when we are tired. Sometimes we may have a cup, and sometimes a bucket. Equally important, we can resist the temptation of cynicism, which serves as a convenient excuse for doing nothing.
I can’t promise that I’ll actively interact with every person outside our grocery store. But as I write this, I resolve to do what I can to be present and kind, and every now and then, do for one person what I wish I could do for many others.
And I pray that Christ will show us all how to make our offering of hope by amplifying and supporting the efforts of those who are dedicating their lives to making a difference where human suffering is greatest. Our small offerings, augmented by grace, can provide the lifeline needed to keep hope alive where it is needed most.
*Mariann Edgar Budde is Bishop of Washington of the American Episcopal Church
Translation: Ricardo Evandro S. Martins.
Text originally published on October 17, 2024. Available here.
Translator's notes
[I] BIBLE. Gospel of John. In: Holy Bible: New Testament. The four Gospels. Translated by Frederico Lourenço. Kindle Edition. London: Cambridge University Press, 2025.
[ii] Allusion to the passage in Isaiah 12:3.
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