When we read the morning’s news and find ourselves confronted with the scale of human displacement and loss—millions uprooted, thousands buried in rubble, neighborhoods erased, families torn apart—what we may feel is not a call to solutions but a call to witness. Lamentations invites us into the ancient posture of weeping, not as despair but as the truest form of attention. The comforter feels distant because the suffering is real and vast, and no quick word or policy fixes the exhaustion of being displaced, the terror of being buried, the helplessness of watching one’s home disappear. To grieve rightly is to stand with those who have no other companion in their loss, to let our hearts be broken by what breaks the heart of God, and to resist the numbing that comes from simply scrolling past.