The Compassion Connection

Mark 6: 34

June 23, 2006

The Compassion Connection

Fatigue comes in a variety of packages.

There is, of course, physical fatigue. This is the bodily exhaustion that comes from long hours of hard work. At times this can be a satisfied kind of tired for having accomplished some goal, like the physical exhaustion following the climb to Long’s Peak (which I haven’t done), or the fatigue after the hike to The Lock via the fire trail (which I did a couple weeks ago). Or it can be the discouraged weariness of a single parent who works at a job from 8 to 5, and then comes home to another five hours of cooking, washing, and cleaning. But this they have in common - the feeling that they can't do any more.

There is also mental fatigue. Students can experience this kind of fatigue, especially as they approach mid-terms or finals, going to class all day and studying to midnight. People, with desk jobs can come home tired as well from the mental strain of the workplace. I listened to a parent whose college-aged son had a white-collar type summer. It was something similar to his father's work. He commented after his first week at the job, ''Now I understand why Dad comes home tired every night." People with mental fatigue will say things like: "My mind is full; it won't hold anything more", or "I'm all thunk out; I can't think no more."

There is also emotional fatigue. Perhaps you've experienced this watching a movie at a theater, a real powerful movie that has you laughing in the aisle one minute and crying like a baby the next; angry as a hornet one minute and sympathetic to that same character the next. You may well have commented upon leaving the theater, "I feel emotionally drained."

There is a fourth kind of fatigue, the term for which is creeping into our language. It's called "compassion fatigue". It results in a person, or a society, no longer able to feel compassion. Its cause is similar to the previous three. If your physical strength is taxed to its limits you can't work any more. When your mind is taxed to its limits you can't think anymore. When your emotions are taxed to their limits you can't feel anymore. It seems that compassion, too, can be taxed to its limits. Some have worried that we Americans, in our high-tech communication age, are in danger of compassion fatigue. There is no hurt in our world that we cannot see on our T.V. screens or read in our magazines the next day or the next week. There is hunger in Ethiopia; civil war in Somalia; another tsunami in Indonesia, and of course the war in Iraq and the conflict between Israel and Hezbollah. Together they kill hundreds of thousands. AIDS, crack babies, the homeless in our own country are a national tragedy. And every disease and birth defect has its organization raising funds for its cause. Each and every life affected cries out for help and depends on the compassion of others to lend aid. The danger is that the needs are so great and the calls on compassion so many that compassion fatigue sets in and we as individuals and we as a society cease to be caring persons and people.

In a "Peanuts" cartoon, Lucy and Linus have a chicken wishbone they are going to pull to make a wish. As Lucy explains to Linus how the wishbone works, Linus asks, "Do I have to say what I wish for out loud?"

Lucy says, "Of course, if you don't say it out loud it won't come true." Then she makes her wish first. She says, "I wish for four new sweaters, a new bike, a new pair of skates, a new dress and one hundred dollars."

Linus goes next. "I wish for a long life for all my friends," he says. "I wish for world peace, I wish for great advancements in medical research."

At this Lucy takes the wishbone and throws it away. "Linus," she says, "that's the trouble with you. You're always spoiling everything."

Compassion fatigue can bring us a lot more Lucys and leave us with a lot fewer Linuses.

When one considers what true compassion is one can understand the danger of compassion fatigue. In "passio" meaning "suffering", and Christianity carried this word into English as the "passion", or suffering, of Christ during the crucifixion.

Add to "passion" the word "com”, which means "with" in Latin, and you find that compassion literally means "to suffer with". When you have compassion for someone it is as if you are entering into their suffering with them. Helping, then, someone for whom you have compassion is, indeed, helping yourself because in easing their suffering you ease your own. But with how many people can you enter into suffering before experiencing compassion fatigue? And is compassion fatigue a valid excuse for ceasing to care and help those in need?

If compassion is a human undertaking then one would have to conclude that compassion does have its limits and compassion fatigue is a valid excuse for no longer caring for and helping those in need. But what if compassion is not a human trait, not just a human undertaking?

I would like to suggest that compassion is a divine quality, a god-like undertaking, and therefore is infinite. Furthermore, compassion that finds its source in God no longer drains the human spirit but actually feeds it.

In the NT the word translated "compassion" or "pity" never occurs outside the Synoptic gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke); and is always used by Jesus or of Jesus. In the parables it is used of the master who had "compassion" on the servant who was unable to pay his debt; of the "compassion" which made the father welcome home the prodigal son; and the "compassion" that made the Good Samaritan go to the help the wounded traveler on the Jericho road. In these three parables, the compassion shown illustrates the compassion of God the father. In all other cases in the NT, compassion is used of Jesus himself.

This morning Jesus was "moved with compassion" when he saw the crowd like a sheep without a shepherd. He is "moved with compassion" when he saw their hunger and their need when they had followed him out to the desert place. It is used of Jesus' compassion for the leper; of his compassion for the two blind men; of his compassion for the widow at Nain who was going to bury her son; and the appeal of the man with the epileptic son is that Jesus should have compassion on him. Whenever the Greek word for compassion is used in the NT it either describes Jesus or one who is acting Jesus-like. Compassion is understood, then, in the NT not as something originating in the human spirit and dependent on human energy. Compassion originates in the spirit of God and is empowered by divine spirit.

At some time or another you have probably heard some optimistic soul assert the presence of God in each human being. Usually the statement runs something like this: "Of course, there's a bit of the divine in all of us." It is a commonplace assumption this belief that there is something godlike about the human person.

And it is true! There is a bit of the divine in each of us. God made it so when he said, "Let us create man in our own image". The image of God has been stamped upon the human spirit, and while it has been considerably disfigured, it has not been lost. It is said that somewhere within the human soul there has been placed a secret and sacred flame, a burning light which is akin to the unfailing light of heaven.

And the evidence of that divine spark in us is the compassion we have for those in need. Compassion grounded in the image of God within us is not extinguished by use, but rather fed by it. The chief characteristic of this interior light seems to be its responsiveness to the things of God. Do you recall how the fire in the grate leaped up in the presence of Marley's ghost in Dicken's Christmas Carol? The divine spark in us seems to have that same sort of capacity. Compassion both finds its origin in that divine spark as well as fans that spark into a flame and leaps up as if in recognition when God passes near.

Compassion that leaves one drained has forgotten its origins and ignored its source. Because true compassion grows from the divine spark with which we were created, that image of God within us, it does not quench that spark, but feeds it. Compassion born in the Christ who lives in us does not leave us sated by our good works, but leaves us hungry to do more.

Don Emmite tells about a young mother who was sitting in the waiting room of an adoption agency, a little clubfooted girl in her arms. A mother with a beautiful adopted child began to stare across the room at the handicapped child. The mother with the little handicapped child noticed the sympathetic looks and stares of pity they were receiving. So finally the mother who had the little clubfooted girl in her arms looked over and said, "Don't feel sorry for us."

The other lady was shocked and said, "Well, I really wasn't. I just thought what a tragic thing it was that the little girl had to endure that!"

The mother replied, "No, don't think about that. Do you know what we are back here for?"

"I guess it's because you want to give this one up and get one that is whole," the observer stated.

And the mother said, "No, no, no, a thousand times no. We are here to ask the director of the adoption agency if he can find us another little clubfooted child. Because children who are whole, who have all their fingers and all of their toes and a healthy body have people waiting in line to get them. We have come back to ask God and ask this director to bless us with another handicapped child."

To show that kind of compassion is to evidence Christ within. Amen.

May the peace of God that passes all understanding keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. Amen.

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