Three years ago, nearly two-thirds of Americans said they were always or often exhausted when they thought about politics, according to a Pew Research Center poll. Two years ago, an AP-NORC survey found 65 percent felt the need to limit their news consumption about government and politics because of fatigue and information overload. And that was before this year.

Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents made more than 50,000 arrests in August, topping the nearly 50,000 they made in July and 43,000 in June. The enforcement efforts may be quieter than they were, say, last winter in Minnesota. But the total number of arrests since President Trump returned to office exceeds 610,000. 

In Nepal, a devastating and well-documented flood claimed at least 1,130 souls, though 4,500 remain unaccounted for this month. Images of the catastrophe continue to populate social media feeds. 

The war with Iran, which began in February, is far from over. A new wave of violence broke out this week. Also this week, a woman in an apparently random attack stabbed a man and killed a woman returning from maternity leave in Times Square. Yesterday, a mass shooting in Minneapolis claimed two lives and left at least five injured. 

It’s easy to feel numb. Day after day of tragedy drains what seems like a finite amount of energy we have to respond with compassion. Psychologists call this compassion fatigue or empathy fatigue, and while it is often experienced by caregivers, it can also be induced by the media. Consumers, inundated with crisis after crisis, have a diminished reservoir of empathy. It’s easy to slip into a feeling of utter powerlessness. 

But giving up is not an option for people of faith. Pope Leo XIV warned against such fatigue last year during his address to the major superiors of the Society of Jesus

“True discipleship requires both denunciation of injustice and the proposal of new models rooted in solidarity and the common good,” he said, noting specifically the work of Jesuit universities, social centers, publications and the Jesuit Refugee Service. “Despite the obstacles or failures that we may experience at times in carrying out this service, we must avoid giving in to resentment, or falling into a ‘compassion fatigue’ or fatalism. Instead, we must trust in the transformative power of God’s love, like the mustard seed that becomes a great tree (cf. Mt 13:31-32).”

Pope Leo cautioned Christians and Muslims about compassion fatigue again more recently in an address to participants of an interreligious colloquium at the Vatican in May, where he said that “compassion and empathy are sadly in danger of disappearing.” 

“Technological advances have made us more connected than ever before, but they can also lead to indifference,” he said. “The constant flow of images and videos of the hardships of others can dull our hearts rather than stir them.”

Christians and Muslims, he said, are called to “revive humanity where it has grown cold, to give voice to those who suffer and to transform indifference into solidarity.” 

The call to such revival may be particularly pertinent to Catholics in the United States as the nation heads into a pivotal midterm election in November. But how can we nurture and maintain compassion? Three interconnected aspects of Ignatian spirituality offer a way: indifference, discernment and the “magis.” 

St. Ignatius’ rich concept of indifference often needs unpacking, especially in the context of compassion fatigue. His Spiritual Exercises challenge us not to desire health over illness, wealth over poverty, honor over dishonor or a long life over a short one. It helps us fulfill the purpose for which God created us, giving us the freedom to do what God asks of us. Ignatian indifference allows us to set aside apathy and cut through the noise of the information deluge. 

The freedom engendered by indifference can enable us to better discern the way forward. What Ignatius called interior movements can either draw us to faith, hope and love or toward a “darkness of soul,” or what might be described in more contemporary terms as fear, contempt and resignation. Reflecting on our day, through the Examen for instance, can help us discern how God is acting in our lives and how we can better serve others. 

In Ignatian spirituality, the “magis” means seeking the “more.” In terms of dealing with compassion fatigue, it certainly doesn’t mean more anxiety, doomscrolling and despair. The “magis” instead calls us to give more to God, and pour more of ourselves into the paths to which we’ve discerned God has called us. That may be calling our local representatives, accompanying immigrants in our neighborhoods or making a quiet space in our day so we can rejuvenate. 

The national and international crises show no signs of slowing. Making space to rest, pray and listen can open our souls to be, as Ignatius writes, “inflamed with love of its Creator and Lord.” I, for one, could really use that kind of consolation. 

J.D. Long García is a senior editor at America and co-author of Clericalism: The Institutional Dimension of the Catholic Sexual Abuse Crisis