The Politics of Pity

There are few cries in Scripture as raw, as urgent, as utterly human as this one: “Jesus, Master, have pity on us.” Ten men, marked by disease and stigma, stand at a distance. They are cut off from family and community, from worship and work, from life itself. They lift up their voices, hoping against hope that mercy might break through the walls that have confined them. And Jesus, seeing them, does not turn away. He heals.

We know this story well. But familiarity should not make it easy. It unsettles us. It asks a question that echoes down the centuries and lands in our pews today: What does it mean to live as a people of compassion?

The cry for pity is not foreign. We hear it in the voices of the poor, the lonely, the forgotten, the afraid. We hear it in the silence of those who cannot bring themselves to ask. And if we are honest, we hear it in ourselves when…