Is There a LIST of "Things-to-Do-to-Become-a-Compassionate-Human-Being"?

Lately, there have been quite a few blog posts and articles that feature lists of "what not to say" to people who are suffering, followed by brief explanations of why people can be hurt by these things even when we say them with the best of intentions. These lists often apply to "invisible" or often misunderstood afflictions: "Ten things you shouldn't say to people with Depression." "Five things you shouldn't say to people with chronic illness." "Ten things you shouldn't say to people who are grieving." Every day there seems to be something new that perhaps we've never thought about before.

I have also read blogs and comments expressing some frustration with the whole (cumulatively overwhelming) explosion of these various lists. At a certain point, it begins to seem like anything we say is going to offend someone. We end up feeling even more nervous and uncomfortable around people whose problems we don't understand. Is there anything we can say that won't offend them or increase the weight of their afflictions?

I must say that I have found reading some of these lists to be very useful. I suffer from chronic illnesses, and I know that certain points listed are valid and good for other people to know. I also have found helpful insights into types of suffering that I don't appreciate from personal experience. For example, I have no way of knowing what it feels like for a woman to have a miscarriage; so I appreciate some tips on how to offer condolences and be a friend without acting like an oaf.

This kind of awareness, however, is about more than just giving (or taking) offense. It's helpful toward learning the art of compassion. Many people want to be compassionate, and anything that contributes to their practical understanding of the suffering of others has some value. We do need to learn how to build one another up, to share one another's burdens. I think these lists can make a contribution here, even if they do tend to seem a bit constraining. It's good to combine such things with more positive information about how we can be helpful, what we can do that will make a difference.

Perhaps the thing that should be stressed above all is that these lists can never give us a guaranteed "formula" for approaching human suffering and loving another human person perfectly, without mistakes. They may help us to focus in certain ways, but true compassion is always personal, and the only way to really learn it is by giving it and receiving it within relationships with real people. Even the most basic human interactions require an awareness of the other person, an investment of one's self, an attention and a tenderness that are foundational to a relationship. There is simply no other legitimate way to approach a human person (and even though we forget this and fail constantly, we must keep trying again and again). There are no shortcuts to developing strong and deep human relationships; they must be cultivated with patience and persistence. Compassion always grows in this way, by means of a love that can't avoid taking risks and therefore must be resilient. We need to stay with one another and keep loving one another concretely even though we will always make mistakes.

Human relationships are forged through compassion, and we will never be able to make them safe and easy. We must learn, be attentive, and develop the habits of a courageous empathy, but still we will never find a foolproof set of rules or behavior patterns that will always "work." Human persons and human suffering are too particular and too profound to be resolved by any system, or penetrated by any wisdom that we may attain by ourselves.

We will always be weak; we will always fall short in love, and we will often hurt one another. A million lists won't solve this problem.

Only Jesus solves it, but He doesn't solve it by magic. He works in us through real life, with our good intentions, our weakness, our efforts to learn, our commitment to one another as persons, the investment of our time, and the forgiveness, perseverance, hope, and compassion for one another that His Spirit engenders within us.

Our hope is in Him. He gives us the strength to persevere in love, and His grace transforms us into instruments of His mercy.

How Can We Have True Compassion For Those Who Suffer?

William Congden, Crucifixion series

I'm not going to offer my own reflections on such a profound problem. Instead, I have a few striking selections (with notes from me, occasionally, in brackets [ ] ) from a book that is rich in what it offers to both the mind and the heart, by the great and unheralded theologian (and my old friend) Msgr. Lorenzo Albacete. The little book is called God at the Ritz (click the link and buy a copy). The title is both serious and funny, but I'm not going to explain that here. You'll have to get the book to find out.

These thoughts (selected from pp. 81-116) are worth going through, because I think Msgr. Albacete presents an understanding of compassion as "co-suffering" that is essential to how we can really help one another and stand together with one another in solidarity in suffering. This ingredient of "co-suffering," I think, is proper to every gesture of compassion including those that bring relief to the suffering of others.

It's something I want to ponder and develop further, personally as a human being and perhaps also philosophically/theologically. Note that the "audience" for these remarks is not just Christians but all people who search for meaning, who suffer and practice love and compassion:

What is human suffering? Suffering is not the same as pain. Pain is a symptom indicating that something is wrong at one or more of the three levels of human awareness: physical, psychological, and spiritual. [Note: there is an interesting discussion of this point, but the theme is that what distinguishes the core of specifically human suffering is the way it touches a person's identity, the way it introduces a rupture of the person's expectation of the "good-for-myself," or even the presumption of its realization. This rupture, experienced as "against-me," provokes—in the intrinsic reality of human personal suffering—a fundamental and vital question.] 

Suffering occurs when you seek to understand the reason for pain—not the cause of it, but the reason for it—the "ultimate reason" if you will, for "why this should happen." We ask "why?" because suffering breaks our mental schema of how things should be. Suffering tears apart our worldview, our assumptions about life. We ask why in the face of inexplicable imperfection. Asking why drives us beyond our preconceived notions toward something more.

Often, without realizing it, we address our "why" to the Source of meaning. We look for a face that is ultimately responsible for everything. In essence, then, we aren't looking for explanations. We are looking for something else: we are looking for salvation, for redemption. When we suffer, asking "why" moves us toward transcendence.

[This question (why?) is in some way the distinctive form of the experience of human suffering. The question] surges out of the human heart and breaks through all attempts to suppress it. [And, it] opens us to others who are also suffering, thus creating a solidarity among those who suffer. To suffer together means to walk together toward transcendence.

This solidarity is the proper human response to [the] suffering [of others]. This doesn't mean that we "share the pain" of those who suffer. While this phrase is used quite often, I don't think this is possible. Nothing is more intimately personal than the pain of suffering. It is, after all, a wound in our personal identity, and personal identity cannot be shared. Each person is unique and unrepeatable. What we share is the questioning, and thus we suffer with the one who suffers. We "co-suffer" with that person.

The only adequate response when confronted with another person's suffering is co-suffering. It is the only way to respect the suffering of another. Co-suffering affirms the wounded personal identity of the sufferer through our willingness to expose our identity to the questioning provoked by the sufferer's pain. This willingness to share suffering is an act of love. Co-suffering is the way we love the one who suffers.

In our relationship with the one who suffers, we as co-sufferers can impose nothing on the other person. We can only help the other to ask the question "why" by asking it together—that is, by praying together. Praying together with the one who suffers is the just response to the suffering.

The redemption of suffering, as our experience indicates, cannot be found as an "ultimate answer" to a problem: it can only be an event that transforms the drama of suffering into a drama of love and shows love to be more powerful than its denial. The possibility of this event sustains a realistic hope and an unfailing determination to protect and defend human freedom and the dignity of human life.

For the Children who Died....

In prayer and remembrance.

Sandy Hook Elementary School, Newtown, Connecticut.

December 14, 2012.

For the children who died, Jesus have mercy.

For the teachers and staff who died, Jesus have mercy.

For the parents in their grief, Jesus have mercy.

For the families who have endured loss, Jesus have mercy.

For the children who witnessed this horror, Jesus have mercy.

Jesus have mercy, and protect the sanctuaries of the child from all this monstrous violence.

Protect the classroom, and every learning environment.

Protect the home, and the families who build the home.

Protect that inner, sacred space of the child's emerging awareness.

Protect children in every place where they are vulnerable and defenseless. Grant that they might find love, and be nurtured, and supported in every step of their growth.

Protect every child, from the dawn, in that intimate space beneath the heart of his or her mother.

Protect the mother and the child, and the sanctity and inviolability of their relationship, which is always a gift from God.

Give us the strength to love and support the lives of every mother and child, from the beginning, in whatever crises they may face.

Protect the children, from the beginning, from their first moment through all the moments of their epiphany, their opening up to reality, their expression of themselves as persons, created uniquely in the image of God.

Jesus have mercy on us.

Give us hearts that cherish Your beauty reflected in every child.

Give us reverence and humility in our care for the children entrusted to us.

Help us to remember that every child belongs to You.

From whence comes this unearthly, unspeakable violence that invades the human soul, and drives it to killing? So much killing.

So much blood.

Jesus, have mercy on us all. Have mercy on the whole world.

She is Here

Yesterday was a beautiful day.

I gave presentations on Our Lady of Guadalupe to the primary and elementary classes, and I handed out cards with a photo reproduction of the image and Mary's words promising to heal and strengthen and carry us--the words of our Compassionate Mother.

Giving out the cards is a tradition I've had for a long time. I used to do it in my own classroom on the feast day. Usually, December 12 is a final exam date for college students. They would all stumble in, bleary-eyed, in sweat pants, with caps on their heads to cover their unwashed hair, giving one last look to their study sheets. I would give the cards to them first. If any of my former students are reading this, I hope you still have yours.

I was very happy yesterday to speak with children about Mary.

People can analyse these things in hundreds of ways, but in the end its very simple. Mary is a real person. She is the mother of Jesus. And Jesus is my brother. That means Mary is my mother too.

But what good does it do to talk about a "compassionate mother" in a world of orphans? After all, isn't the appalling loneliness of our own lives what we fear most?

"Mother of God and my mother, carry me!"--but when I cry out, I am already in her arms. She is already holding me.

This is what Mary says to each of us: "I am here."

We Are Cradled in Her Mantle

The words of Our Lady of Guadalupe to St. Juan Diego
(as presented in the Nican Mopohua):

"Do know this, do be assured of it in your heart,

My Littlest One,
that I Myself, I am the Entirely and Ever Virgin, Saint Mary,
Mother of the True Divinity, of God Himself.
Because of Him, Life goes on, Creation goes on;
His are all things afar, His are all things near at hand,
things above in the Heavens, things here below on the Earth.

How truly I wish it, how greatly I desire it,
that here they should erect Me My Temple!

Here would I show forth, here would I lift up to view,

here would I make a gift

of all My Fondness for My Dear Ones,

all My Regard for My Needy Ones,
My Willingness to Aid them,

My Readiness to Protect them.

For truly I Myself, 

I am your Compassionate Mother,
yours, for you yourself,

for everybody here in the Land,

for each and all together,
for all others too, for all Folk of every kind,
who do but cherish Me,

who do but raise their voices to Me,
who do but seek Me,

who do but raise their trust to Me.

For here I shall listen to their groanings, to their saddenings;
here shall I make well and heal up

their each and every kind of disappointment,
of exhausting pangs, of bitter aching pain."

. . . .

"Do listen,

do be assured of it in your heart, My Littlest One,
that nothing at all should alarm you, should trouble you,
nor in any way disturb your countenance, your heart.

And do not be afraid of this Pestilence,

nor of any other pestilence,
or any rasping hardship.

For am I not here, I, Your Mother?
Are you not in the Cool of My Shadow?

in the Breeziness of My Shade?
Is it not I that am your Source of Contentment?

Are you not cradled in My Mantle?

cuddled in the Crossing of My Arms?
Is there anything else for you to need?

Nothing else, though, should trouble you,

should disquiet you." 

Let's Start With Coffee

Here are some lessons I've begun to learn. I hope that I'm really learning them, and not simply spouting them off. In any case, they are reflections from my life. Often I do the opposite of what it says here, but I hope that years of failure are teaching me something.


Love the person. Find what is good in the person and encourage it, foster it, strengthen it, help them build on it.

There is something in every person that is worthy of affirmation. Affirm the good.

Listen to people. Even when they're wrong.

And don't do it just to be "polite". Try to understand what they are seeking, what "good" they are trying to protect, and what they fear. I know from my own experience that when I think or do something wrong, its usually because I am trying to avoid suffering. I also know that it never really works.

Compassion. I must be willing to join that person in their suffering. This is the place where they need love.

Not condescension.

Not false approval.

Love. Humble love.

I should bend down and let them step on my back so that they might see what's on the other side of their wall.

And then there are things we have in common.

I don't think I've ever met a person with whom I had nothing in common. Find that common thing, however small it may be. Let solidarity with the person begin there.

It may seem small indeed. The disagreements among people in the world today are prominent. We rub shoulders every day with people who have completely different ideas about the universe and the meaning of life. Perhaps the only thing we have in common is a need for coffee in the morning.

Very well, let's start with coffee. In this detail of life, a person is present to me. Here is a place where I can give myself to another person and they can give themselves to me.

If I take the risk, they might respond.

I might even go so far as to have tea, if that's what they prefer.

Do good.

Avoid evil.

We cannot create common bonds by betraying the truth. Not only is is wrong; it makes no sense. If a person refuses to accept reality, I can't falsify reality in order to be united with them. We can only build on a foundation of reality.

"Oh, so you cut people's throats. How interesting! What kind of knife do you like best?"

No, that's going nowhere. That's not helping anybody.

We cannot pretend that there is no evil in the world. There is great evil in the world. And people attach themselves to it. Love tries to find ways to help them break free.

Here especially I must remember to love myself. There's plenty of evil looking at me in the mirror. I need to do some breaking free, but how? Love, love? I don't even know how to love myself! That means I have to let myself be loved. Why is this so strangely difficult?

Sometimes it is necessary to fight. We need the grace to make the difficult judgment of when that time has come, as well as where and how it needs to be done.

Then, we must fight hard and fight fair.

Fight evil. Don't fight against the person. Fight for the person, and against the evil that they are using to destroy themselves and others. And don't fight for the advancement of self. Don't fight for vengeance.

This is not easy. The temptation is always there, to prove myself by vanquishing the other person. The temptation is especially strong when I know I'm right.

War. I fight wars every day, especially with the people who are close to me. These wars are often unjust, almost always ill considered, and usually indiscriminate. If I really want peace in the world, I should start with my own house.

The greatest weapon of mass destruction is right between my teeth.

But the very same can be used to build peace, and to communicate the truth in love.

The tongue: use wisely. Often, silence is the better thing. Only use the tongue with the help of God.

Really, what I need to do is just forgive people. But I can't do this unless I encounter a great, healing mercy in my own life.

I need mercy, present in my life right now. We all do.

He Dwells With Us

Jesus healed the sick.  He spent a significant portion of His public ministry doing works of healing.

It is true that the healing of the body is a symbol of the healing of the person from sin. And it is also true that the miracles of healing demonstrated His divine power. But I am always touched by that particular indication given in the gospels: that He “had pity on them.”

Jesus came to save us from our sins. He came to save us through love. And that Divine and human love burned with compassion for all the fragility of our afflictions, our sickness, and our poverty.

We are not always healed of our sicknesses. God knows that our journey to Him takes us through darkness and pain. But He does not simply leave us to endure this alone; in His compassion He takes our suffering upon Himself.

In the most desolate places, He dwells with us.