Compassion 101: Tuesday's Post

Some days, some weeks, knock you to your knees.

Sometimes I fall to my knees because I am stunned by personal news. Or by political or world revelations. 

Sometimes I am overwhelmed with gratitude. Sometimes my body needs to catch up with my thoughts. 

Falling to my knees and then getting back up isn't easy for this body of mine these days. My hips protest, along with my knees, but the heart overrules. "Get on your knees," I hear. 

Sometimes I drop to my knees before I even know what I am doing, but sometimes I imagine myself, head bowed, my hands folded in prayer, kneeling at the side of my bed or the chair where I meditate each morning. You know those feelings, too, I am sure; the ones that take your breath away. 

I recently decided I need a crash course in compassion. I have no problem feeling compassion when a friend calls with news of a scary health event in her family, and it is easy to move into supportive action, but compassion is not my first response at other times. I do not have compassionate thoughts towards those who refuse to understand the danger our country is in under the current leadership. 

I try to open to the words of Desmond Tutu in the book he wrote with his daughter Mpho Tutu, Made for Goodness And Why This Makes All the Difference, 
                   As human beings we may tarnish the sheen
                   or rend the fabric of our own goodness. We 
                   can act in cruel and heartless ways. But because
                   we are human, we cannot completely rip out
                   and destroy every vestige of the godliness by
                   which and for which we were made. We cannot
                   alter our essence. We are made by God, who is
                   goodness itself. We are made like God. We are
                   made for goodness.  p. 15

I confess at times I don't see or feel much goodness. And then I feel even less compassion. 

                  But we do not always act out of love. Sometimes
                  we act out our jealousy, our insecurity, our pride,
                  and our resentment. Sometimes we act out our
                  hate. No, we do not love perfectly. But God does.
                  And the more we come to emulate the divine love,
                  the more our lives are an expression of the goodness
                  that is at the heart of each of us. p. 25.

                  We can always aspire to be more compassionate
                  and more generous, not out of some dogged need
                  to be good or to be lovable, but because to give 
                  love is our greatest joy. p. 33. 

Another companion on my self-proclaimed Compassion 101 course is Joyce Rupp's book Boundless Compassion, Creating a Way of Life. She says compassion consists of "awareness, attitude and action," and requires four spiritual qualities in order to grow: nonjudgment, nonviolence, forgiveness, and mindfulness. See why I need this crash course!

I seem to be having these metaphorical and/or literal "fall to my knees" moments more often these days. When I do, I place my hands on my forehead and say, "May I be a source and reflection of kindness." Then I place my hands on my heart and say, "May I cultivate inner peace and move forward with calm reflection and wise action."

After I pick myself up, I seem more able to remember that God is always present.

                       I am here.
                       I am as close as prayer.
                       I am breathing in your breath.
                                        Made for Goodness, pp. 16-17

An Invitation
When is compassion a challenging concept for you? I would love to know. 

Other resources from my library for Compassion 101:
Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life by Karen Armstrong
Boundless Heart, The Buddha's Path of Kindness, Compassion, joy and Equanimity by Christina Feldman
Compassion, Listening to the Cries of the World by Christina Feldman
Hallelujah Anyway, Rediscovering Mercy by Anne Lamott

Tuesday's Reflection: Compassion and Community

           

Gloria Dei Lutheran Church, St Paul, MN

I can't get him out of my mind.
            
            Last week my husband and I registered members of our congregation for their church directory photo sessions. When we were asked to do this, it was suggested, since we are new members, this would be a nice way to meet a few people, and it was.

            One interaction, however, was upsetting. 

            As I registered a couple, perhaps in their late 60's, I would guess, the man remarked about the "fact" that the Bible says women must subjugate themselves to man. "God says." At first I thought he was trying to be funny. I teased that he was "trouble--big trouble," and he seemed to like that and be encouraged by that, repeating, insisting, declaring the same words. I am not sure what he wanted from me, but I stiffened and wanted to rebuff and reprove, but I was certain I would not be successful.
          
          Other people arrived, and I redirected my attention, as did my husband. How grateful I was when the photographer arrived for their session. (I wonder how that went!) After the session he returned to the registration table, however, and leaned in towards me and said, "Your punishment is to be subjugated to your husband for the rest of your life."

          I told him that was enough and he should leave now. 

          Since then I have wondered what his story is and what life with him is like. How is it possible he reconciles his beliefs with the fact that one of our congregation's pastors is a woman, as is our intern, and the former senior pastor is a woman, and many women are in leadership roles. This is a congregation whose mission states,  "By God's grace we are called to be a caring, healing, and welcoming community who proclaim and celebrate the love of Jesus Christ, live as God's servants and seek justice for all people." http://www.gloriadeistpaul.org  What does that means to him?

         If I felt abused, what does his partner feel? And I wondered what else I could have done, should have done. I may see him on Sunday mornings or at other church events. Do I greet him and move on? Do I attempt to get to know him? Do I engage him in a theological conversation? Do I tell him how offended I was? Do I ignore him?

         I have no idea, but I know my first task, which was not my first inclination, I must admit, is to hold him in the light, to send him lovingkindness. As I sit in morning meditation time, I ask that my heart open to him, not as a vehicle to convince him of the error in his beliefs and behavior, but as a way to extend peace, to help him soothe what seems to be his own troubled heart. 

         Can I do that? Not alone, for sure. I need all the help I can get to see others without judgment, to be a compassionate presence, even as I honor my own personhood. 

          Perhaps the following prayer is one you and I can pray together as we live and grow in community:

           All that we ought to have thought
                 and have not thought.
           All that we ought to have said,
                 and have not said.
           All that we ought to have done,
                 and have not done.
           All that we ought not to have thought,
                 and yet have thought.
           All that we ought not to have spoken,
                 and yet have spoken.
           All that we ought not to have done,
                 and yet have done.

                 For thoughts, words, and works,
                 pray we, O God, for forgiveness.
                                  --A Persian Prayer

An Invitation
      Who are the difficult people in your life or community who could use a boost of lovingkindness? What casual encounters have you had recently that have disturbed you either because of what was said or perhaps because of the way you responded or failed to respond? What are you willing to do to hold yourself and others in the light?  
          


          

Heart Intentions

What a good day to attend to one's heart! I am not an artist, as you can see, but over the years, particularly at times when I've been in emotional or spiritual pain or a time of heightened spiritual discovery, I've drawn a picture of my heart. One time I envisioned my heart fallen over on its side with thick, black walls closing in on it. The drawing startled me and led me to do the necessary work to revive my heart. Another time, as pictured here, I imagined my heart upright and large, spacious within, with butterflies emerging from the dark boundaries. This is what I wrote then: "The butterflies flutter their wings and are attracted by the beating heart as well as the free, air-filled space. Soon the heart will feel the power of their transformative whispers of energy. A green stream of new life, of refreshment, of restoration runs through the heart and the surrounding space. The heart presses against the the upper boundaries, the thick cords of old limitations, and pushes to make more room, to create God space." I had drawn my heart and therefore, the new hope I was feeling seemed more tangible, but at the same time the drawing compelled me to manifest that hope through my actions. 
     This morning I sat and listened to the messages of my heart. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply into my heart area and felt it accepting and absorbing all the love and life and light around me. I imagined my heart expanding and the love and life and light I received flowing through me and extending far beyond my own boundaries. I imagined that love and life and light touching all those I love, and then I imagined that love and life and light touching all those who need love and compassion. I crossed my hands over my heart. I bowed my head towards my heart and listened to its request. "Surrender to me, and I will be your wise and compassionate guide."
     What does your heart look like today? What is your heart whispering to you? Attend to your heart.