“Compassion asks us to go where it hurts, to enter into the places of pain, to share in brokenness, fear, confusion, and anguish. Compassion challenges us to cry out with those in misery, to mourn with those who are lonely, to weep with those in tears. Compassion requires us to be weak with the weak, vulnerable with the vulnerable, and powerless with the powerless. Compassion means full immersion in the condition of being human.” (Henri J.M. Nouwen)

“Compassion is not a relationship between the healer and the wounded. It's a relationship between equals. Only when we know our own darkness well can we be present with the darkness of others. Compassion becomes real when we recognize our shared humanity.” (Pema Chödrön)

“How much can we ever know about the love and pain in another heart? How much can we hope to understand those who have suffered deeper anguish, greater deprivation, and more crushing disappointments than we ourselves have known?” (Orhan Pamuk)

“Compassion alone stands apart from the continuous traffic between good and evil proceeding within us.” (Eric Hoffer)

“With the afflicted be afflicted in mind.” (Saint Isaac the Syrian)

There are words which not only sound deliciously beautiful [melliferous, cinnamon, tantalizing, felicity], but which also carry a deeper and more revealing resonance [nostalgia, astronomy, angelic, philosophy]. And then there are others, the same beautiful and resonant, which go even further. To reveal profound practical realities once broken free from their etymological shell [compassion, companion, communion, compunction]. Here I would like to stop on a word which if we should stay to consider it in all of its wonder and implication, would bring us to tears. This is probably my favourite word: compassion. Compassion from Middle English: via Old French from ecclesiastical Latin compassio(n- ), from compati ‘suffer with’. It is a “sympathetic consciousness of others' distress together with a desire to alleviate it.”[1]

Source: https://orthodoxartsjournal.org/st-peter-on-the-right-st-paul-on-the-left/

Love itself presupposes the movement of compassion for to begin with, love proceeds from a “strong affection”. If I have no compassion for you, then it stands to reason that my confession of love will not stand, it will not hold up. It would be like building a house on unstable ground. This is what the traditional words of the marriage vow: “[f]or better, for worse… in sickness and health”, are meant to convey. “Compassion is the greatest form of love humans have to offer” (Rachael Joy Scott). A truth which this inspirational young soul, who lost her life in Columbine far too soon, learnt early in her growing years. Love and compassion go hand in hand. I will stay with you, and if need be when that time arrives, I will share in your suffering and I will be there for you. I will co-suffer with you. I want for us to be part of each other’s redemption. To behold the face of the other. Like the heart-warming icon of the reconciliation of Saints Peter and Paul.

Compassion inspires hope, that feeling of trust and expectation, when everything around us might seem dark. We all do battle with our lives, oftentimes this battle is an inward one and it can frighten us to ‘conspire’ with harmful responses. Other times we cannot hide our sufferings and it is public for all to see, as was for example, the tribulation of the prophet Job. He was to ultimately through his steadfastness, experience both the compassion and the mercy of his Creator (Job 42:7-17). Those that love us will have compassion for us, they will extend their hand, put us in their embrace. They remind us of those good and vital things which we may well have forgotten, or which might now seem blunt. They give us hope and point us in the right direction.

“To be compassionate requires attention, insight, and engagement”, a religious has somewhere very well said. Even as the ‘leper priests’ did at the deepest level when they willingly entered into leper colonies to offer hope and succour to the suffering. We are no longer expected to do this, but let us think on this for a moment, we have become hesitant to even shake the other’s hand. Leo Buscaglia, the widely beloved philosopher and educator, reflecting on the meaning of life after the tragic loss of his student: “Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.” This “power of touch” has nowadays taken on a new meaning. Masks, gloves, and social distancing. People dying without holding the hand of a loved one. Never before have we realized the vitalness of the power of touch. And of the magnitude of compassion.

We have seen that one of the evidences of compassion is to let the other know you are there for them. To speak words of comfort and succour into their ear. Don’t tell them that you understand, because in all likelihood you don’t, but do tell them that your empathy is borne from your own life-experiences. Thirst is a stranger to none. Nor is despair. Sometimes, too, when we express compassion, we might at the same time have to give the ‘benefit of the doubt’, to hold back on any judgements. In Buddhism compassion requires prajna [transcendental wisdom], that is, an ability to get past the shallow appearances and to discern the true suffering and needs of the other. This is to go deeper, if at all possible, to practise “compassionate empathy” when we are “spontaneously moved to help”.[2] In the Quran compassion is the most frequently occurring word and is often connected to mercy (7:156). Mercy is normally associated to the giving of forgiveness, so there will be occasions when we could be called to practise compassion by forgiving those who have hurt us, when they might not have known any better. “Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Lk. 23:34).

There will be days when we are tired or overburdened, or indeed suffering ourselves. When we cannot be the support we would want to be. The additional weight might be too much for us to bear for the moment. Even here, we need to make use of our discernment. Milan Kundera, the Czech writer best known as the author of The Unbearable Lightness of Being has described this very honestly, “[f]or there is nothing heavier than compassion. Not even one's own pain weighs so heavy as the pain one feels with someone, for someone, a pain intensified by the imagination and prolonged by a hundred echoes.” What then? Do not feel guilty, for if you break down, you would be of no help to anyone. Emotional exhaustion [or even ‘pathological’ appropriation] is never a good thing. But try best you can, not to ignore the others cry, if you can. A letter. Or a card. Or an email. All this does help. And even if this is too difficult, then a prayer said with compassion, whatever the workings of prayer, is not lost. “But truly God has listened; he has attended to the voice of my prayer” (Ps. 66:19).

Many would be familiar with the Parable of the Good Samaritan one of the most beloved gospel stories from the New Testament (Lk. 10:25-37). The Samaritan at great risk to his own self, shows empathy and practises compassion to care for his Jewish neighbour who was beset by highway robbers and left to die. At the time the Samaritans and the Jews were at enmity one with the other. Others passed by the wounded and dying man and given their profession, you would have expected for them to stop. But they did not. They did not practise compassion. They kept going. But the good Samaritan stopped to give comfort and to care for his neighbour. He practised both compassion and mercy. And he was greatly commended by Christ that we might also follow in his example, “Go and do likewise” (Lk. 10:37). Compassion has no interest for race and is blind to the colour of my skin. It does not ask for my creed. It offers itself freely like a beatitude. Martin Luther King, Jr., loved this parable and made frequent use of it. He understood the road “from Jerusalem to Jericho” where the story unfolded as one which must be transformed so that true compassion is “not haphazard and superficial”. He knew too well that words devoid of truth are meaningless. So did the good Samaritan who did more than just “bandage” the wounds. Even the irascible Schopenhauer had recognized, "[c]ompassion is the basis of morality". It is a little more complicated than this long established aphorism, but it's truthful enough [3].

Why is it we naturally expect compassion for ourselves when at the same time we can often hold it back from others? This is a difficult question and it can challenge us. Only by looking deep into our hearts can we arrive at some answer, and even then, given any unpleasant discoveries, there remains the likelihood the response will not be entirely honest. We expect compassion because we are human and typically fragile. It is a healing balm. A medicine to the soul. “When we’re looking for compassion, we need someone who is deeply rooted, is able to bend and, most of all, embraces us for our strengths and struggles” writes the author of the Call to Courage, Brené Brown. There are times when we might hold back on this very same compassion, not because we are bad or wicked, no, but precisely because we are fragile and contradictory. Some could be normally suspicious, on account that practising compassion might mean giving the “benefit of the doubt” something which may possibly not come easy.

It will mean revealing the vulnerable side of ourselves at the same time. This could frighten us. And yet love, compassion, and vulnerability, are interlinked. Be certain on them, nothing in the world is more powerful or liberating. We have seen this manifested in history and in the lives of people time and again. It is the revelation to our hearts that we are not ‘existences’ in isolation one from the other. A universal idea so well synopsized by the well-known American Trappist monk, Thomas Merton, “[t]he whole idea of compassion is based on a keen awareness of the interdependence of all these living beings, which are all part of one another, and all involved in one another.” To love is to feel good, the heightened feeling of “communion” [from communionem, meaning "fellowship, mutual participation, or sharing."[4] To experience a profound pleasure in giving to the other. It is the same with the practice of compassion.

[1] https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/compassion

[2] http://www.danielgoleman.info/three-kinds-of-empathy-cognitive-emotional-compassionate/

[3] https://gophilosophy.wordpress.com/2014/06/18/compassion-is-the-basis-of-morality-schopenhaueressay-by-ivan-medenica

[4] https://www.etymonline.com/word/communion

“A good character is the best tombstone. Those who loved you and were helped by you will remember you when forget-me-nots have withered. Carve your name on hearts, not on marble.” (Charles H. Spurgeon)

Why is our reputation so incredibly important to us and why does it hurt us to the core when it is attacked? Simply stated reputation is “the belief or opinion held about someone or something.”

It is what commends us to others whether they are familiar persons or strangers. In many cultures to harm someone’s reputation is considered a serious offence. We would say that somebody has been “defamed”. To defame from the Lat. diffamare, is to damage the good reputation of another, to literally “spread evil report”. Most people prize their reputation (or “good name”) above all else. Once lost it is difficult to get back. In secular literature the ontological implications of losing one’s reputation is famously described in Shakespeare’s tragedy Othello. In one place the starry-eyed Michael Cassio, Othello’s young lieutenant, unsuspectingly laments to his tormentor: “Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputation!”

Our reputation is connected to our good name and our “good name” reflects and tells the world who we are and what motivates us. Very often our reputation will precede us: “She can be trusted” or alternatively “He cannot be relied upon”. Sometimes a bad reputation is “earnt” through repeated misdemeanours or behaviours which do not inspire trust. Here, however, our concern is with people with good reputations who have had them damaged through no fault of their own. And this can happen in different ways: through an act of revenge; a reaction to jealousy; an irrational hatred or dislike; in response to anger; a sense of vindication; in the hope of gain; to contradict the argument of an opponent; to belittle or to dismiss the other as irrelevant. Even from a misunderstanding between two previously good friends.

Nowadays, too, there is the distinction between our regular day-to-day reputation and our online reputation increasingly referred to as our “brand name”. Reputation hard earned on the battlefield of life can be superficially built online and so the introduction of social media terms like “reputation commodity” and “reputation management”. The ‘googlefication’ of reputation is only one of the drawbacks of our increasingly electrified lives. Our online reputation can be destroyed by our “adversaries” in a moment. We have no real control over it outside our own contribution to the building of the brand name. We have become consumed with building our online personas, instead of actually building our character, that is, the moral quality which defines us. Saint Augustine has wonderfully expressed it, “character is determined not by knowledge but by what we love.”

How do we respond when we are innocent and our reputations have been besmirched? The natural response is to fight back to let the world know we are not the persons that our defamers are suggesting. We want to quickly restore our reputations. When we can undo what has been done, it is good and proper. But there is another way, especially online where the manipulation of our life histories will potentially wound a great number of us. What is this response? It is not revolutionary on account of it being something new for its practise is ancient, but because it is uniquely inspiring. It has been practised by the majority of those individuals that over time we have held to be examples of the finest representations of human nature. These inspirational human beings were concerned with character. Socrates is an archetypal example: “The way to gain a good reputation is to endeavour to be what you desire to appear.” As are Saint Mary of Egypt and Ramakrishna and Mahatma Gandhi. And the other great group of prophets who have walked this earth caring naught for fame or fortune. There are two characteristics which fortify the behaviour of these awesome personalities: courage and self-belief.

It is not complete oblivion to our reputation. It is not to say that we do not at all care what people think of us, for we do, but not to be driven by our ego which would make of us a prince when in truth we are a pauper. At other times we might reckon a polished reputation will prove our value to others. That too is futile, for unless our character backs whatever goes before, we will be found out. What is said or written about us should not determine the condition of our interior world or force our hand to respond when the quiet voice speaks to us saying, “…this time, this time let it go.” The truth of who we are cannot be contained. We can pretend to be people that we are not, and others may portray us for that which we are not, but eventually the actuality of who we are will find the way to be revealed. Often enough, even after our passing. In many ancient traditions the reputation of warriors (both mythic and real) was only ever established after the death of the hero. The same goes with the canonization of saints. The process to “authenticate” takes time. It does not happen all of a sudden when we are elected to a high post, or win a great prize, or can show that 100,000 people follow us on Facebook. Earlier there was a reference to the scheming Iago. Surprisingly, he did have wise words to say to the sorely stricken Cassio: “Reputation is an idle and most false imposition: oft got without merit, and lost without deserving.”

For the community of believers, as well, reputation for its own sake is not to be sought in this world where the approval of peers has nothing to do with our commendation “before the judgement seat of the Christ” (2Cor. 5:10). In the New Testament our spirituality, that is our transforming inner being, is established by our character and the fruits which flow from our faith and works (Jm 2:14-26). In Philippians 2:7 is that famous reference of the kenosis (‘the emptying’) of the GodMan of his divine glory, that is, he hides his ‘reputation’ that he may be revealed by his character. And so in one place in the Gospel he asks, “Who do men say that I am?” (Mk 8:27).

“Dear Lord too often I care what my friends or colleagues might think of me. I fret and become anxious that I might disappoint or be found out and that my hard earned reputation is tarnished. Please allow for my heart and mind to have no worry for what the world may believe or make of me, but rather that my first concern is the building of my character which is that eternal part of me.”

Blog

m.g. michael