Lately, I’ve been reflecting on how we cope with the overwhelming amount of suffering in the world—war, poverty, systemic injustice—and I’m struggling with how easily our coping mechanisms turn into complacency.
When the world gets heavy, our natural instinct is to retreat. We listen to uplifting music that tells us our own happiness is all that matters, or we consume media that lets us forget. But lately, I’ve noticed a deeper, more institutionalized version of this escape: hiding behind spirituality and faith.
It is incredibly common to hear people handle global tragedy by saying, "It’s in God’s hands," or "I surrender it to the universe." While surrender can be a beautiful tool for personal anxiety, it becomes dangerous when it is used to justify inaction.
When we say "everything happens for a reason" to comfort ourselves about someone else's ongoing trauma, we are essentially using faith as an emotional shield. We surrender our own agency and power to effect real change, outsourcing our moral responsibility to a higher power so we can go back to enjoying our lives guilt-free.
But whatever your worldview, culture, or conditioning, pain is a universal currency. We don’t have to agree on the meaning of life or the existence of a higher power to agree on what hurts. Minimizing suffering for others is the lowest common denominator of human decency.
If spirituality or faith is used to build a wall between us and the pain of the world, it isn’t true peace—it’s spiritual bypassing. True peace shouldn’t be a hiding spot to keep us safe from reality; it should be an anchor that gives us the strength to step into the storm and help.
Comfort is a necessary place to refuel, but it’s a dangerous place to live. If our coping mechanisms make us numb to the pain of others, our personal peace is built on an illusion. How do we balance the absolute necessity of protecting our mental health with our shared human duty to actually look at, and minimize, the suffering around us?