When systems collapse—whether the machinery of war, the mechanisms of insurance, the structures meant to protect the displaced—we are left to reckon with fragility that no institution can finally contain. The news today speaks to those caught in the gaps: the injured in besieged cities, the families without shelter, the elderly suddenly without coverage they thought was secure, the child denied passage to a hospital. The prophet’s lament offers not false comfort but a deeper acknowledgment: that mercies are not our own achievement, that they arrive not because we deserve them or have built systems reliable enough to guarantee them, but because they are renewed each morning, offered freshly to a broken world. To notice this is not to excuse injustice, but to find ground for hope beyond the systems we have made—and perhaps to ask what we owe to those whom those systems have failed.