GIVING THANKS – FOR COMPASSION

A light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

                                                           John 1:5

               I once heard a description of heaven and hell that has stayed with me.  I have no idea of its origins.  It goes like this:  In hell, there is a great banquet laid, with all of the most wonderful food that you can imagine, and everyone is gathered around the table.  But no one is eating.  They cannot feed themselves because their arms don’t bend at the elbow.  They are eternally tempted but unable to enjoy.  In heaven, the same feast is laid, and everyone is gathered around the table.  They are laughing and talking and eating and enjoying themselves.  Their arms don’t bend at the elbow either, but instead of worrying about feeding themselves, everyone is feeding their neighbor. 

               So it is in life.  When we are concerned about ourselves, and whether we have our share (whatever that might be) and whether it is as much as the folks next door have, we are doomed to unhappiness, to dissatisfaction.  When we only give of our leftovers, after we have “enough,” there is never “enough.” But when look to others, when we see their need and offer to them something of ourselves, a listening ear, a meal, a spare coat, some labor to fix the house, some time together, a place to stay, a refuge from the storm, financial help, then we know our own blessings, and the blessings of fellowship.  As the prayer attributed to St. Francis teaches us, “It is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.” 

Rembrandt, The Good Samaritan

           
  I was recently at a church service in support of a church that had been the victim of a hate crime.  The local community came out in force to support this church.  The sanctuary was filled with hand-made signs of love and support, there were flowers on the steps, and the sanctuary was full of people of different faiths.  It was church indeed.  After the service, on the way out, I was chatting with a Jewish woman who had come with her family.  I thanked her for coming and for showing interfaith support.  “Of course,” she said.  “I wish, instead of focusing on diversity, when we talk about multi-culturalism, we would focus on community and on what we have in common.  We are all here together on the same journey.”

               Wise words.  And as it is with our fellow humans, so it is with our fellow creatures.  I attended a Thanksgiving feast this year at a nearby sanctuary for farm animals.  The event featured a great feast for the resident turkeys (the chickens and a goat also joined in), followed by a vegan pot luck dinner attended by hundreds of people.  The tables were groaning with delicious and compassionate food to be shared (a precursor of heaven, perhaps).  Here, too, we focused on commonality.  The staff of the sanctuary talked about each of the turkeys, telling us their history and their personalities.  The turkeys and other animals at the sanctuary, like humans, know pain and fear, they know contentment and fellowship.  They, too, are on the same journey.  When we, as humans, recognize that shared life, that shared nephesh, it brings us joy.  

Hicks, The Peaceable Kingdom

                St. Francis also said, “If you have men who will exclude any of God's creatures from the shelter of compassion and pity, you will have men who deal likewise with their fellow men.”  So, too, I think, when we learn to show compassion and pity to God’s creatures, when we see what we have in common with them, so we will learn to deal likewise with our fellow humans.  In our relationships with animals, we have the opportunity to exercise our moral muscles for compassion or cruelty.  We must decide, and we must be aware that how we decide is likely to have a broader impact than we might imagine.

               In a world that can sometimes seem overcome with fear, suspicion, anger, cruelty, and division, I am profoundly grateful for those lights shining in the darkness who reach out in love and support to help their fellow creatures – human and non-human – through difficult times and for those who stay to celebrate the good times.  Joy longs for companionship, just as pain does.  I am grateful for those who find and respond to the things we all have in common: the desire to feel safe and to be loved.  I am grateful for those who light the path for the rest of us, and I pray for a heart to follow them on the road.  

               Anne Lamotte, in her book Stitches, notes that Ram Dass “said that ultimately we’re all just walking each other home.”  The journey is so much better together: with friends, neighbors, and strangers, people with two feet and four, those with wings or fins.  The Lord God made us all, and loves us all, and it is only when we are all working together, in support and fellowship, bearing each other’s burdens, that He calls us “very good.” (Genesis 1:31).

               Wishing you the blessings of love and companionship during this holiday season and for the whole journey home.