Babies are being torn limb from limb, and still we find room in our hearts to weep over a lion. We still have enough leftover moral indignation to call out comparatively trivial hypocrisies. And we still try to push all of this out of our minds long enough to make dinner and take out the trash and do all the other things that are ours to do.
As well we should.
Compassion is not the sort of thing that diminishes with use.
Instead of hoarding our compassion, careful only to bestow it on the most worthy subjects, let us strive to live with fully awakened consciences.
A story about a pet lamb woke David to the gravity of his own crimes.
May Cecil the Lion awaken us to the value of life.
Cuddy; a sonnet for St. Cuthbert
1 day ago