Compassion

Several months ago, someone made a puzzling statement to me. He said, “We become what we are.”

He didn’t just say this to confuse me; he was trying to answer a question I had concerning my mother.  She had passed away not long before, within two months of my mother-in-law’s death.  The dying experience had been very different for the two women. My wife’s mother had been accepting, almost eager to get on with it, so to speak, and it was less than two months from the time she had started her final decline until her death. My mother, on the other hand, had lingered for an almost unbelievably long time—almost two years. I was trying to resolve this disparity in my own mind when my acquaintance came up with his explanation: “We become what we are.” 

When I thought about the two mothers, the statement made sense. Mary (my wife’s mother), a delightfully unique person, had always been very accepting of people, points of views, and help from others as she aged. My mother, on the other hand, had been more rigid in her approach to life. She was a wonderful woman. Many who knew her would even use the word “classy” to describe her. But she had elected to do more and more for herself during my father’s long decline from a series of debilitating illnesses, which ended in his death.  In the process, she became fiercely independent. She wanted to be in charge of her life, even to the point of deciding when she was going to die. The behavior patterns, habits, and attitudes formed earlier in both women’s lives had become more pronounced in them as they aged. They became more of what they were. 

The longer I thought about this statement, the more convinced I became that it applies to all of us, even me. And, if it were true, (and I was pretty convinced it was) it meant I could control what I became. This was a really intriguing thought. I began to fantasize about the possibilities.

Then another idea popped into my mind. What would Jesus like me to be?

This provided even more fertile ground for my imagination. Going off to work at a mission in some foreign country had a nice ring to it (have you ever noticed that the idea of going somewhere new always sounds like the answer to many questions?). Maybe I should work at simplifying my life—a thought that had occurred to me several times in the past. Maybe I should do more for my family.  Thoughts raced through my mind and then, as if he had spoken, I knew the answer. What would Jesus want me to become? “Become like me.”

Probably the most consistent and pervasive trait of Jesus’ public ministry was his willingness to care. Jesus cared in a radical way. He was drawn to the less fortunate, those treated as failures and outcasts. He loved the unlovable. At the beginning of his ministry Jesus announced what he perceived his mission to be: to bring glad tidings to the poor, liberty to captives, sight to the blind, and freedom to the oppressed. (Luke 4: 18-19)

Jesus didn’t just care; he cared with passion. Jesus performed several healing miracles on the Sabbath, a day to be unsullied by any form of activity by believing Jews (and Jesus was certainly a believing Jew). Every one of these miracles involved someone with long-term problems. Was it really that important if they suffered one more day? And yet, Jesus refused to wait. It was as if he were saying, “I care too much to have these people endure even one more day of their affliction.”

When John the Baptist sent disciples to ask Jesus if he were the Messiah, Jesus could have said many things. Yet, what did he say? “ Go and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind regain their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, the poor have the good news proclaimed to them.” (Luke 7:22)

Jesus cared with passion about those in need. Jesus was compassionate.

Compassion means to feel what another is feeling.  As an old song used to say, “Walk a mile in my shoes.” Compassion involves a willingness to enter into the experience and emotions of another. It is a cornerstone of the structure we call love. Interestingly, two things almost always happen when we are compassionate. First, we realize that the person is worth caring about, regardless of his or her circumstances. At the same time, we feel an almost irresistible desire to help address what is unacceptable in that person’s life.

There is, however, a problem with compassion. We don’t like to talk about it, but most of us have an alarm system deep within us, which, whenever we encounter someone in need, blares out the warning: “Beware: you have enough problems of your own; you can only handle so much; they created their own problems; don’t get entangled.” We all do this, and at times we must if we are to preserve our emotional balance. The trouble is that we tend to make it a habit. While telling ourselves (and others) that we care, we let ourselves believe that what we ignore really doesn’t exist. We become imprisoned in a straightjacket of superficiality, unable to fully experience life. Jesus called this habit hypocrisy.

Fortunately, there is some very good news concerning compassion. Jesus was compassionate because he knew his Father was compassionate. This means there is no place I can be, no place I can go, where God doesn’t feel as I feel and accept me just as I am. What’s more, knowing how I feel, God will strive to help. Some refer to this desire as  “the divine will to serve.”

More good news: we all have the capacity to be compassionate. Think of it as a gift. Saint Paul tells us we are Christ’s body. If Christ’s compassion is to be felt in the world, it must be through us. Every one of us has the capacity to bring glad tidings to those impoverished by their loneliness. Through our forgiveness, every one of us can proclaim liberty to people held captive by their mistakes. Every one of us can restore sight to those blinded by the belief that they are unloved. Every one of us can help free those oppressed by fear of rejection. The Spirit of the Lord is with us. Jesus has anointed us. All we need to do is use our gift.

Which brings us to the best news:

As we reach out,

we grow.

                          In accepting others,

                          acceptance is ours.

                          When we forgive,

                          forgiveness is felt.

                          Loving

                          brings the certainty

                          of being loved.

                          For compassion given

                           is compassion gained.

                          We become what we are.