"How honored are those who
treat others with compassion,
because they will find compassion."
+ + +To reiterate a previously made point about my translation of the beatitudes, I'm using "How honored" because I think the beatitudes in Matthew are working off of (yet inverting) the normative cultural conceptions of honor/shame. Compassion is my translation of the term which most often gets translated as merciful/mercy. Those in the tradition who viewed the beatitudes as cumulative - each building on the former beatitude - are quick to note that justice and mercy are placed together. "Justice and mercy are so united, that the one ought to be mingled with the other; justice without mercy is cruelty; mercy without justice, profusion."
To be honest, I (and perhaps it's safe to say 'we') am more inclined to honor the strong, the solid, the stalwart, the secure. To be compassionate, to treat others with mercy or compassion, is to be vulnerable, porous, taking another's burden as one's own. It requires seeing; it requires being present. [It is interesting to note that
die Barmherzigen the German for "the merciful" as found in the above photo can also describe a ministering angel or messanger.] The vulnerability of compassion is not what most characterizes my daily existence, favoring as I do strength and independence. However, to operate from a place of strength is commonly to adopt the position of the giver of gifts and to shy away from being a recipient. Further, it shies away from acknowledging my many needs and those who consistently let my life continue through their gifts. Even if we lived in a wholly just world, a world where justice reigned supreme, this would be insufficient and worse than it first sounds if it didn't include compassion. Perhaps those who rightfully call for social justice should remember also that justice without compassion or mercy is cruelty, that justice needs gentle hands.
Like so many of the beatitudes, it is not my first inclination to honor those who treat others with compassion, those who are vulnerable and who are impacted by the pains of others, even if I find such beautiful. Too often my charity can also be thus, giving resources from a distance, holding benefits (which do in fact benefit, don't get me wrong) that can be just another party to attend. Whether a TV show like Oprah's Big Give or an end of the year charitable donation, compassion can end up emasculated - more of a contest or transaction than something involving vulnerability. This is not to say that some good isn't done. But what is the honor that comes from treating others with compassion? Finding compassion.
This is to say that the more determinatively we allow the burdens of those around us (and I think it important to say that the world as such cannot be our 'neighbor') to be our own, the more compassionately (which is to say that justice cannot be our only dictum) we treat the people in our lives, the more we are opened to the other with their needs, the more our needs, our deficiencies, our burdens seem capable of being embraced or suffered without taking on the character of something that problematizes our existence. In short, it allows for growth, for healing. I'm reminded of the fourth century Cappadocian fathers, in particular Gregory of Nazianzus and Gregory of Nyssa, and of the Gospel according to Matthew. For Gregory of Nyssa, Christ healed the effects of the Fall as he healed the sick in his earthly ministry - by touching. For Gregory of Nazianzus, "what was not assumed [by Jesus] was not healed." Then, there are the words of Jesus from later in Matthew's gospel: "Come unto me all you that labor and are heavy laden."
The compassionate often find compassion and the prospect of healing. Through Jesus - whose work was justice and compassion - our honor is that we might be considered members of God's family. Jesus, our physician, does not heal from an uninvolved distance. This is the wonder of Christmas.
+ + +[The photo comes from a small chapel in Gegenbach, Germany which graphically depicts the various beatitudes from Matthew. The chapel was a stopping point for pilgrims on their way to Santiago de Compostela in Spain.]
