Resisting the Temptation of Numbness

2025 was a long year. For many of us, looking back over the past months repeatedly prompts the question, “that happened this year too?” The pace has been relentless and when the world keeps moving without pause, numbness becomes tempting. We scroll through headlines of injustice, go through the motions, and learn how to function on autopilot. Some days we may feel too tired to be outraged. Other days we may convince ourselves that distancing our own emotions makes us more rational, effective advocates. I know I am not immune to this.

I was soberly reminded of how deeply that numbness can set in after hearing of the recent shootings in Sydney, Australia and Providence, Rhode Island. These acts of violence are horrifying, needless tragedies. The murders in Sydney were particularly abhorrent examples of antisemitism, and I lament and condemn the harm perpetuated on our Jewish siblings, especially on a holy day. Yet, it was the shooting in Providence the struck close to home for me, as it occurred in a community that shaped me and a place where many of my loved ones still live and work.

I was born and raised in Rhode Island and attended Brown University as an undergraduate. The city of Providence shaped me during my most formative years. As news reports unfolded the night of the shooting, I recognized the street names, the familiar landmarks, and the places that hold memories of friendship and growth. And still, what startled me most that night was not my grief, but my numbness. Even during a crisis in the city that raised me, I recognize the degree to which desensitization to gun violence had dulled my response. Acknowledging this reality is perplexing, frightening, and, if I am honest, somewhat shameful. It is unsettling to feel out of touch with your own humanity amidst horrific headlines.

And yet, I suspect many of us know this feeling well. How many shootings have we witnessed this year? How many lives reduced to statistics? Even beyond gun violence, how many times this year have we read a devastating headline, sighed, and quietly set our phones down? Numbness can feel like a survival strategy. At times, it may help us endure. But ultimately it does not serve our pursuit of justice, nor does it reflect who we are called to be.

In the United Church of Christ, we are continually called toward deeper compassion and bolder action. Apathy stands in direct opposition to that call. We must remind ourselves and our communities over and over and over again—every statistic has a face. Every number has a name. Mukhammad Aziz Umurzokov and Ella Cook were not abstract ideas, they were individuals with full lives who were beloved by their communities. In the face of systemic injustice, we are called to witness, to remember, and—mostly importantly—to act.

As we enter 2026, I encourage all to remember that the antidote to numbness is not perfection or overwhelm, but action. Faithful action can be small: learning names, telling stories, showing up, calling legislators, praying with intention, and refusing to look away. Each step we take to stay engaged and resist the temptation of numbness is a step closer to our vision for just world for all.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Hannah Santos is the Communications and Campaigns Specialist for the UCC Office of Public Policy & Advocacy in Washington D.C.

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