Background Information: Fierce Compassion
Click here for an article on Compassionate Anger
Click Here
For a good article on helping preschoolers identify anger and choose an appropriate response.
A sermon about compassion
Three Faces of Compassion by Jaco . ten Hove, guest minister
Service at UUCSS on March 4, 2007
Sermon
The Golden Rule may just be “the simplest of all principles”—and perhaps one
of the oldest. It sounds so easy: just do unto others as you would have them do
unto you. As a guiding, if often unobserved ideal, it has pervaded the planet’s
civilized history, within and beyond religion.
An influential and older contemporary of Jesus, Rabbi Hillel, was once asked
by a skeptic to sum up the whole of Jewish teaching while standing on one leg
(in other words, briefly). Hillel assumed the position and said only this:
That which is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbor. That is the Torah;
the rest is commentary.
In a similar vein, the Dalai Lama’s breath mediation of cherishing self
[inhale], cherishing others [exhale] is a reflection of the Buddha’s ancient
teachings that encouraged followers to send out positive thoughts to all living
creatures without exception. And a helpful page in one of our Unitarian
Universalist religious education curricula shows how the Golden Rule is
expressed in most of the world’s religions. At an early age we seem to grasp
the essential law of the Golden Rule.
But oh, the rigors of a consistently compassionate path! Thomas Aquinas
allowed as how such loving practice “has nothing to do with feelings,” it
“simply requires that we seek the good of another.” Sounds reasonable enough,
but it’s that requirement of consistency—so clearly enunciated by Jesus—that is
the real hurdle.
We are not to just seek the good of another when it happens to suit us. No, a
truly compassionate ethic suggests that we are to seek the good of ALL others,
all the time. That is the enduring spiritual theory and discipline that stands
before us still, inviting and challenging us to live out a vision of our
species in peace, locally and globally.
And Karen Armstrong reminds us that purely secular efforts have not generally
been any more effective at attaining peace. The gift of the Golden Rule is that
it transcends any sectarian angle; it is both within and beyond religion, a
deeply unifying ethic, bound up in the human heart.
But have you tried loving your enemies lately? Ever? How much do you feel
with people who will never feel affection for you? This is no minor challenge.
It might even be the most demanding of all teachings by the revolutionary
Jesus. Here it is, in Matthew 5:43+44—
You have heard it said, “Thou shalt love thy neighbor and hate thine enemy.”
But I say unto you: Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to
them that hate you, and pray for them that despitefully use and persecute you.
This, he says unequivocally, is the route to the holy, the path to oneness,
and Karen Armstrong agrees, as do I. I understand and accept—intellectually, at
least—how a radical compassion toward all other life could indeed steer one
toward great holiness, of any religious flavor. Every time I see the Dalai Lama
in action I think I see a living being about as close as possible to the ideal.
This leader of Tibetan Buddhists is truly impressive in his non-materialistic
compassion, which certainly stands out whenever he interacts with our culture.
(I remember a while back, when a friend and UU colleague of mine near Boston
was chosen by his local interfaith group to represent them in welcoming the
Dalai Lama to their small town, where there was a Tibetan Buddhist temple. My
friend wanted to be hospitable and offer the Dalai Lama a gift, which was
surprisingly hard to do, and about which a story appeared in a local newspaper,
with the title “What Do You Get For the Man Who Has Nothing?”)
So alas, most of us are probably not as able as the Dalai Lama to achieve
radically consistent compassion. Any of us might struggle to meet the mighty
expectation of this ideal. I know I fall short all too regularly. I rise in
anger and curse back at aggressive strangers. I have trouble not hating
bullies. My instincts are not to turn the other cheek and I barely wish the
good for what enemies I have. My ego is often on the throne at the center of my
world. I forget to practice compassion, locally and globally.
So allow me to also preach to myself here a bit this morning, with a few
stories and suggestions that might at least improve the odds for us all
stepping in the right direction. This is idealistic material, to be sure. Even
the Dalai Lama would say that it takes many lifetimes to get it right, so we
are also called to be gently compassionate toward ourselves, to cherish
ourselves as we strive for the good. That is what ultimately matters, anyway, I
think—the intention, the striving, stepping forward along the ethical path—not
necessarily any final destination.
It may seem very unrealistic to practice consistent compassion. It may feel
stupid, even, or self-defeating. We are surely not taught to value this path by
our competitive, violent, escapist culture—except to throw money at needy
causes every now and then (which is nonetheless important, of course).
But Karen Armstrong’s reminder persists: “We live in one world,” and “need
the compassionate ethic more desperately than ever before.” Despite the depth
of the challenge, anyone can assist this noble evolution at any moment. Like
many things, it begins with our immediate interactions locally, and only then
projects globally. This very afternoon, we each might make an important
contribution to a future of more peace by stepping further along our own path
toward more consistent compassion.
But I want to suggest that there is no “one-size-fits-all” for this kind of
spiritual work. As our species has evolved to its current social complexity, so
has embodying the Golden Rule become more complex, with at least three “faces”
of compassion that we might recognize, in ourselves and in others. I give credit
here to Episcopal priest and leadership trainer, Robert J. Voyle, who in turn
honors the work of Stephen Gilligan for his developing understanding of
compassion. But it was Rob Voyle who first enumerated these three helpful
distinctions for me, and I draw gratefully from an article he wrote on the
subject [“Compassion and the Crazy Wisdom of Jesus, or One Person's Way to
Transform the World,” 2004, Robert J. Voyle, Psy.D. The Clergy Leadership Institute].
READ THE MIDDLE OF THIS ARTICLE
A second, less obvious face of compassion is FIERCE, especially in the cause
of justice. Holding compassion for both those who behave unjustly and their
victims does not mean that we just roll over and meekly acquiesce. (I interpret
“turning the other cheek” as a strategy, not an absolute.) Witness the active
nonviolence preached and demonstrated by Gandhi and Dr. King, who each fiercely
expressed with their very lives a compellingly compassionate vision for human
equality.
Sometimes the good of the whole calls one to step forth and articulate a
larger benefit that challenges a temporary power. And some situations can be
complex enough to exhibit what I might call a hierarchy of compassions, when
one is called to prioritize the protection of innocents, for instance. This can
be accomplished compassionately, but with clarity of purpose as well. “It is
this quality of fierceness that we see in the prophets of the Old Testament in
their cries for justice and an end to the oppression of the poor” [Voyle, ibid,
pg. 4].
I would never pretend that fierce compassion is easy. It requires courage and
a steady mindfulness about how one’s ego can gain hold of one’s vocal
chords—which may be why some practitioners spend so much time in meditation, to
gain ever greater inner clarity, to be ready to discern authentically at any
moment.
One Buddhist story tells of a young female disciple dedicated to her
meditations, filling her heart with loving-kindness toward all beings. When she
would venture out to the bazaar, however, she would find her practice sorely
tested by a particular shopkeeper who subjected her to unwanted caresses. One
day she finally she could stand no more and she loudly chased the man away with
her raised and threatening umbrella.
She suddenly realized her teacher was standing nearby and had noticed the
altercation. Feeling shame and remorse, she went to him expecting to be rebuked
for her anger and actions. He received her with this advice: “What you should
do is to fill your heart with loving-kindness, and with as much mindfulness as
you can muster, hit this unruly fellow over the head with your umbrella.”
[Adapted from Stories of the Spirit, Stories of the Heart, edited by Christina
Feldman and Jack Kornfield, 1991, Harper SF, pg. 297.]
I believe there are times to fill one’s heart with loving-kindness and, with
as much mindfulness as possible, to act or speak decisively, with fierce
compassion. At other times, in more intimate relationship, say, one might care
enough to not accept superficial responses. A friend can bring fierce
compassion to bear, for instance, when their compatriot is wallowing in
self-pity, or during an intervention to save someone from their own
self-destructive habits.
“But,” as Rob Voyle cautions, “if we [imagine] compassion as having only
tenderness or fierceness, we will probably [burn] out with all the seriousness
of life. We will also find…times when tenderness in the face of evil is
inappropriate, yet being fierce in some of these circumstances also seems to
aggravate the situation… So we need another facet to our understanding of
compassion” [Voyle, ibid, pg. 5].
We are facing a shortage of compassionate responses to the issues of our
time, locally and globally, but we can increase our repertoire of ways to make
peace and be peace. In our own lives, we can “be tender in the face of pain,
fierce in the face of injustice, and mischievous in the face of resistance or
immobility” [Voyle, ibid, pg. 8-9].
Compassion and the Golden Rule breed peace. That much is simple and hopefully
easy to remember, even if the challenges to truly embody such an ethic are
demanding. But compassion can be transformative, especially if consistent. It’s
a tall order, but each step on that path begins by simply breathing in to
cherish self; breathing out to cherish others.
And with each life-giving cycle, we spiritually connect with all else that
breathes, since the Latin word spiritus means breath. “We just have to open our
hearts.” The rest is commentary.
* * * * *
Three Faces of Compassion
The most notable models of human compassion might be Jesus and the Buddha.
But even they did not have a way that was “one-size-fits-all.” There are at
least three kinds of compassion, which may help us be more creatively present
to the demanding realities of our relationships and our world.
Service at UUCSS on March 4, 2007
Sermon
The Golden Rule may just be “the simplest of all principles”—and perhaps one
of the oldest. It sounds so easy: just do unto others as you would have them do
unto you. As a guiding, if often unobserved ideal, it has pervaded the planet’s
civilized history, within and beyond religion.
An influential and older contemporary of Jesus, Rabbi Hillel, was once asked
by a skeptic to sum up the whole of Jewish teaching while standing on one leg
(in other words, briefly). Hillel assumed the position and said only this:
That which is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbor. That is the Torah;
the rest is commentary.
In a similar vein, the Dalai Lama’s breath mediation of cherishing self
[inhale], cherishing others [exhale] is a reflection of the Buddha’s ancient
teachings that encouraged followers to send out positive thoughts to all living
creatures without exception. And a helpful page in one of our Unitarian
Universalist religious education curricula shows how the Golden Rule is
expressed in most of the world’s religions. At an early age we seem to grasp
the essential law of the Golden Rule.
But oh, the rigors of a consistently compassionate path! Thomas Aquinas
allowed as how such loving practice “has nothing to do with feelings,” it
“simply requires that we seek the good of another.” Sounds reasonable enough,
but it’s that requirement of consistency—so clearly enunciated by Jesus—that is
the real hurdle.
We are not to just seek the good of another when it happens to suit us. No, a
truly compassionate ethic suggests that we are to seek the good of ALL others,
all the time. That is the enduring spiritual theory and discipline that stands
before us still, inviting and challenging us to live out a vision of our
species in peace, locally and globally.
And Karen Armstrong reminds us that purely secular efforts have not generally
been any more effective at attaining peace. The gift of the Golden Rule is that
it transcends any sectarian angle; it is both within and beyond religion, a
deeply unifying ethic, bound up in the human heart.
But have you tried loving your enemies lately? Ever? How much do you feel
with people who will never feel affection for you? This is no minor challenge.
It might even be the most demanding of all teachings by the revolutionary
Jesus. Here it is, in Matthew 5:43+44—
You have heard it said, “Thou shalt love thy neighbor and hate thine enemy.”
But I say unto you: Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to
them that hate you, and pray for them that despitefully use and persecute you.
This, he says unequivocally, is the route to the holy, the path to oneness,
and Karen Armstrong agrees, as do I. I understand and accept—intellectually, at
least—how a radical compassion toward all other life could indeed steer one
toward great holiness, of any religious flavor. Every time I see the Dalai Lama
in action I think I see a living being about as close as possible to the ideal.
This leader of Tibetan Buddhists is truly impressive in his non-materialistic
compassion, which certainly stands out whenever he interacts with our culture.
(I remember a while back, when a friend and UU colleague of mine near Boston
was chosen by his local interfaith group to represent them in welcoming the
Dalai Lama to their small town, where there was a Tibetan Buddhist temple. My
friend wanted to be hospitable and offer the Dalai Lama a gift, which was
surprisingly hard to do, and about which a story appeared in a local newspaper,
with the title “What Do You Get For the Man Who Has Nothing?”)
So alas, most of us are probably not as able as the Dalai Lama to achieve
radically consistent compassion. Any of us might struggle to meet the mighty
expectation of this ideal. I know I fall short all too regularly. I rise in
anger and curse back at aggressive strangers. I have trouble not hating
bullies. My instincts are not to turn the other cheek and I barely wish the
good for what enemies I have. My ego is often on the throne at the center of my
world. I forget to practice compassion, locally and globally.
So allow me to also preach to myself here a bit this morning, with a few
stories and suggestions that might at least improve the odds for us all
stepping in the right direction. This is idealistic material, to be sure. Even
the Dalai Lama would say that it takes many lifetimes to get it right, so we
are also called to be gently compassionate toward ourselves, to cherish
ourselves as we strive for the good. That is what ultimately matters, anyway, I
think—the intention, the striving, stepping forward along the ethical path—not
necessarily any final destination.
It may seem very unrealistic to practice consistent compassion. It may feel
stupid, even, or self-defeating. We are surely not taught to value this path by
our competitive, violent, escapist culture—except to throw money at needy
causes every now and then (which is nonetheless important, of course).
But Karen Armstrong’s reminder persists: “We live in one world,” and “need
the compassionate ethic more desperately than ever before.” Despite the depth
of the challenge, anyone can assist this noble evolution at any moment. Like
many things, it begins with our immediate interactions locally, and only then
projects globally. This very afternoon, we each might make an important
contribution to a future of more peace by stepping further along our own path
toward more consistent compassion.
But I want to suggest that there is no “one-size-fits-all” for this kind of
spiritual work. As our species has evolved to its current social complexity, so
has embodying the Golden Rule become more complex, with at least three “faces”
of compassion that we might recognize, in ourselves and in others. I give credit
here to Episcopal priest and leadership trainer, Robert J. Voyle, who in turn
honors the work of Stephen Gilligan for his developing understanding of
compassion. But it was Rob Voyle who first enumerated these three helpful
distinctions for me, and I draw gratefully from an article he wrote on the
subject [“Compassion and the Crazy Wisdom of Jesus, or One Person's Way to
Transform the World,” 2004, Robert J. Voyle, Psy.D. The Clergy Leadership Institute].
READ THE MIDDLE OF THIS ARTICLE
A second, less obvious face of compassion is FIERCE, especially in the cause
of justice. Holding compassion for both those who behave unjustly and their
victims does not mean that we just roll over and meekly acquiesce. (I interpret
“turning the other cheek” as a strategy, not an absolute.) Witness the active
nonviolence preached and demonstrated by Gandhi and Dr. King, who each fiercely
expressed with their very lives a compellingly compassionate vision for human
equality.
Sometimes the good of the whole calls one to step forth and articulate a
larger benefit that challenges a temporary power. And some situations can be
complex enough to exhibit what I might call a hierarchy of compassions, when
one is called to prioritize the protection of innocents, for instance. This can
be accomplished compassionately, but with clarity of purpose as well. “It is
this quality of fierceness that we see in the prophets of the Old Testament in
their cries for justice and an end to the oppression of the poor” [Voyle, ibid,
pg. 4].
I would never pretend that fierce compassion is easy. It requires courage and
a steady mindfulness about how one’s ego can gain hold of one’s vocal
chords—which may be why some practitioners spend so much time in meditation, to
gain ever greater inner clarity, to be ready to discern authentically at any
moment.
One Buddhist story tells of a young female disciple dedicated to her
meditations, filling her heart with loving-kindness toward all beings. When she
would venture out to the bazaar, however, she would find her practice sorely
tested by a particular shopkeeper who subjected her to unwanted caresses. One
day she finally she could stand no more and she loudly chased the man away with
her raised and threatening umbrella.
She suddenly realized her teacher was standing nearby and had noticed the
altercation. Feeling shame and remorse, she went to him expecting to be rebuked
for her anger and actions. He received her with this advice: “What you should
do is to fill your heart with loving-kindness, and with as much mindfulness as
you can muster, hit this unruly fellow over the head with your umbrella.”
[Adapted from Stories of the Spirit, Stories of the Heart, edited by Christina
Feldman and Jack Kornfield, 1991, Harper SF, pg. 297.]
I believe there are times to fill one’s heart with loving-kindness and, with
as much mindfulness as possible, to act or speak decisively, with fierce
compassion. At other times, in more intimate relationship, say, one might care
enough to not accept superficial responses. A friend can bring fierce
compassion to bear, for instance, when their compatriot is wallowing in
self-pity, or during an intervention to save someone from their own
self-destructive habits.
“But,” as Rob Voyle cautions, “if we [imagine] compassion as having only
tenderness or fierceness, we will probably [burn] out with all the seriousness
of life. We will also find…times when tenderness in the face of evil is
inappropriate, yet being fierce in some of these circumstances also seems to
aggravate the situation… So we need another facet to our understanding of
compassion” [Voyle, ibid, pg. 5].
We are facing a shortage of compassionate responses to the issues of our
time, locally and globally, but we can increase our repertoire of ways to make
peace and be peace. In our own lives, we can “be tender in the face of pain,
fierce in the face of injustice, and mischievous in the face of resistance or
immobility” [Voyle, ibid, pg. 8-9].
Compassion and the Golden Rule breed peace. That much is simple and hopefully
easy to remember, even if the challenges to truly embody such an ethic are
demanding. But compassion can be transformative, especially if consistent. It’s
a tall order, but each step on that path begins by simply breathing in to
cherish self; breathing out to cherish others.
And with each life-giving cycle, we spiritually connect with all else that
breathes, since the Latin word spiritus means breath. “We just have to open our
hearts.” The rest is commentary.
* * * * *
Three Faces of Compassion
The most notable models of human compassion might be Jesus and the Buddha.
But even they did not have a way that was “one-size-fits-all.” There are at
least three kinds of compassion, which may help us be more creatively present
to the demanding realities of our relationships and our world.