Open my heart, O God
Give me courage to love beyond my fear
 
I am in awe of all the truly compassionate souls who are willing to let their hearts break so another can begin to heal.  I don’t think you can be truly compassionate without being willing to let your heart break.  What a wonderfully generous gift this is.  The practice of compassion is holy as it asks us to enter into another’s sorrow and pain. When we feel true compassion, we are moved inwardly. 

We have all felt compassion for someone we dearly love who is suffering and we would do anything to release our loved one from their suffering.  Imagine if we felt this way towards everyone?  When I think deeply about this I feel myself pull back fearful I could not bear the sorrow associated with opening to such deep compassion.   Is this why we turn a blind eye to those most in need, the strays and the homeless?  Are we afraid of how deeply we are capable of feeling another’s pain?  There is much pain and sadness in our world but it is only transformed through our willingness to bear it.  Christ is our supreme example of compassion.  I used to think we had to be detached from feeling another’s pain as it didn’t belong to us.  But I believe Christ allows Himself to feel our pain and through this loving sacrifice He transforms suffering.  I believe we too must be willing to carry another’s pain and in so doing Christ transforms us all. 

Len Sweet in Postmodern Pilgrims recounts a letter a physician wrote to a church-related magazine:
Today I visited an eight-year-old girl dying of cancer. Her body was disfigured by her disease and its treatment. She was in almost constant pain. As I entered her room, I was overcome immediately by her suffering, so unjust, so unfair. Even more overpowering was the presence of her grandmother lying in bed beside her with her huge body embracing this precious, inhuman suffering.

I stood in awe, for I knew I was on holy ground... The suffering of innocent children is horrifying beyond words. I will never forget the great, gentle arms and body of this grandmother. She never spoke while I was there. She was holding and participating in suffering that she could not relieve, and somehow her silent presence was relieving it. No words could express the magnitude of her love.

(Thoughts and reflections by Andrea Chinn-Parillo)