Compassion

This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.  – Polonius (Hamlet, Act 1)

I am reminded of the psalmist who said, “What is man, that you are mindful of him; the son of man, that you care for him?” (Psalm 8:4)

Who are we that God should care for us; why does God desire to spend time with this mortal race of ours?

It doesn’t make sense. There is no advantage for God to stoop so low, so why does he do it?

Think of what we mean by “value.”

There was a time I would pick up any coin if I saw one lying on the ground. I would do it without a moment’s hesitation. Now, however, I pause to consider whether it is worth my energy to bend down and pick it up. If it is a quarter, certainly! If it is a dime or nickel, probably. If it is a lowly penny, my instinct for survival will usually over-ride my love of money.

I don’t think God looks at us the way I look at coins, however.

For One whose home town streets are paved with gold, I’m not sure he sees any of us as being worth adding to his coin collection; and yet …

… I think God looks at each of us and says, “Oh my; I’ve found a real gem here; here’s a real keeper!”

Actually, I don’t think God looks down from above at all.

I believe God lives at ground level; God looks us each straight in the eye and perceives value imbedded deep within, because (as you may remember) we were created in the image of God – and that’s what God sees in each of us: a reflection of his presence.

What does this Imago Dei look like? Would you know it if you saw it?

The first thing I would expect to see would be compassion, by which I mean love and charity with God and neighbor. The Bible tells us that God cares, so it would make sense that what God placed in us is a capacity to care – and to care passionately.

Compassion is more than pity. With pity, we might feel badly for someone who is hurting, but pity is tinged with a sense of gladness that it is “they” who are hurting, and not “we”. Pity is paternalistic and contains a sense of separateness, whereas Compassion has a sense of togetherness in it.

With Compassion, I don’t feel sorry for you; I suffer with you. With compassion, I can’t feel right until I know you are alright; that you’re OK. And if you’re suffering, I will suffer with you – together. That’s compassion, in my mind.

Pity operates out of the ego, whereas compassion suspends the ego. Where the ego calls me to pat you on the head when things are tough, and on the shoulder when things go well, compassion sets aside the ego so that I will suffer with you in your sorrow, and dance with you in your joy. It is like that old German proverb: A sorrow shared is sorrow halved, joy shared is joy doubled.” That’s Compassion.

God is mindful of us because God is, by nature, compassionate. God suffers with us, so our sorrow is diminished, and God rejoices with us, more than doubling our delight.

It seems to follow, then, that if God is mindful of us, that perhaps we should be mindful of one another, discovering and/or recovering our kinship with one another. In doing so, we may become truer to ourselves than we have ever been before.

So for pity’s sake, let’s be compassionate in this, our world.