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Why Compassion? It's Not My Fault

I want you to imagine a scenario with me that is a common occurance in most of our lives at some point or another.  If you're older and out of the house, you'll need to reflect back a little bit.

Imagine you come home one day from school and you open the door to your house.  There, standing in the middle of the living room is one of your parents.  They look up at you and then return their gaze to the floor.

You look down at the floor and see that one of the lamps in the living room (your parent's favorite lamp) is scattered on the floor in a million pieces.  It's broken beyond repair.  As you stand in the doorway gazing at the lamp, you notice that your parent is standing there looking at you...with that look.  You know the look.  In fact, you know it so well that the first words out of your mouth are...

"I didn't do it."

This is a quite typical response.  In fact, it is so common, that it seeps into our responses to other things.

The truth is, you probably didn't break the lamp (it's usually your younger brother's fault).  But your first step was to take all the blame and any sense of responsibility OFF of yourself.  You were not responsible, you didn't cause this to happen, you didn't have anything to do with it.  Until now.

Many times we respond to other issues the same way.  We see a broken place in the world, a place where there's hunger, hurting, injustice, calamity, crisis, etc.  We see it, but we quickly put up our hand and say, "That's not my fault.  I didn't cause that."  And then we think we're off the hook.

But the truth is, we have another option...the option of compassion.  Compassion is the result of connectedness.  It flows when we realize that there is something broken and we have a responsibility (motivated by concern, respect, love!) to use the resources at our disposal to make something better than it was when we found it (maybe not even better for ourselves, but better for someone else).

Let's go back to the broken lamp scenario.

You walk into the living room and see that the lamp is completely broken.  Your parent looks at you with the less than subtle accusing glance.  The next words out of your mouth are simply...

"Hey, let me help you clean that up."

That's the response from one who keeps their eyes open to the world around them.  They understand that even though they might not share in the responsibility for the brokenness in the world, they invite the opportunity to take responsibility for righting the wrongs and using their time, effort, and resources to make a difference in the lives of someone else.

That's why compassion results from a sense of connectedness.  When you hurt, I hurt.  Ultimately, that's what community is all about.

The Five A's of Confession

Peacemaker Ministries offers: "The Five A's of Confession

People can learn to confess their wrongs in a way that demonstrates that they are taking full responsibility for their contribution to a conflict.

    * Admit what you did wrong.
    * Apologize for how your choice affected the other person.
    * Accept the consequences.
    * Ask for forgiveness.
    * Alter your choice in the future.

How often do the words, "I'm sorry," mean all of the things that are listed above?

Thanks to Leadership In The Real World blog for this.

You Must Look Into Their Eyes

The Wounded Healer is a powerful book by Henri Nouwen.

One of the stories from the book still sticks with me.  It is a story about a man who spent his face in a book to find answers instead of looking into the eyes of the One who had the answer.

One day a young fugitive, trying to hide himself from the enemy, entered a small village.  The perople were kind to him and offered him a place to stay.  But when the soldiers who sought the fugitive asked where he was hiding, everyone became fearful.  The soldiers threatened to burn the village and kill every man in it unless the young man were handed over to them before dawn. 

The people went to the minister and asked him what to do.  The minister, torn between handing over the boy to the enemy or having his people killed, withdrew to his room and read his Bible, hoping to find an answer before dawn.  After many hours, in the early morning his eyes fell on these words: "It is better that one man dies than that the whole people be lost."

Then the minister closed the Bible, called the soldiers and told them where the boy was hidden.  And after the soldiers led the fugitive away to be killed, there was a feast in the village because the minister had saved the lives of the people.  But the minister did not celebrate. 

Overcome with a deep sadness, he remained in his room.  That night an angel came to him and asked, "What have you done?"  He said: "I handed over the fugitive to the enemy." 

Then the angel said: "But don't you know that you have handed over the Messiah?"  "How could I know?" the minister replied anxiously.  Then the angel said: "If, instead of reading your Bible, you had visited this young man just once and looked into his eyes, you would have known."

There are many things to take away from this story.  One thing that strikes me is the need to raise my eyes from study (I don't think reading or studying the Bible is a bad thing) long enough to really see people and find out there need. 

Sometimes, just praying for people is a copout.  I also need to do the necessary face-to-face work.