O Pity and Indignation!

Note: The title is a rather scrumptious line from a Gerard Manly Hopkins poem and has nothing to do with the post

I've been thinking about pity this week. This was partly sparked by a lot of interactions with people whose lives look to me to be in tatters, and who are facing the consequences of choices they have made or are continuing to make. I know that they would scorn to change or to be seen to be 'wrong', and would be indignant at my thinking they could have made better choices. But I maintain my position: if they had done things differently, their lives could be better than they are. But at the same time, I feel tremendous pity for them, particularly some of them.

It makes a difference to how I treat them, I've noticed. I am far more generous towards them and think of things I might be able to do for them, compared to other people. I don't honestly think I can 'make up' for what they have done to their lives, but I am sad that these are the lives they have to live out. I can't change their minds or their choices, but I would like to make something better for them.

I continued thinking about this through the week as I stumbled across Mark 5 again, a series of miracles Jesus performs for three powerless people in Palestine. "Deserving" is really not a category Jesus uses much in his ministry. It seems that often his actions are prompted by the immediate circumstances in which he sees people, and often the narrative offers "moved with compassion" as the reason for his actions. In fact, you could really see the entirety of Jesus' actions and words in life and death as an outworking of this 'compassion'.

I think we often think of compassion as weak or sentimental, but it doesn't look like either in Jesus' words or acts. It looks strong and commanding. He will give compassion full flight and change the course of his teaching (ch 2) or his actions (ch 5), even where there is a cost to that. Having complete wisdom to follow God's will in all things is of considerable benefit here!

But I do think it has implications for us as we imitate Christ in our limited way. It frees us up to be compassionate without being manipulated. It means that 'duty' and our responsibilities can be hamstrung for the needs of someone, which cry out to us and move us. We can give things up for people, with no expectation that they will be changed by them, but because we care. We don't always have to be strategic. We don't have to be 'non-emotional' as though this trumps logic or is in opposition to it. Our compassion can drive us into the field of good deeds prepared for us in advance in Christ Jesus.