Having Compassion

In  Andrew Lloyd Webber's, "Phantom of the Opera", there is a scene where one of the lead characters, Raoul, makes a plea to the murderous Phantom to "show some compassion".  The lonely and emotionally damaged Phantom's angry reply is, "The world showed no compassion to me!"

Those two simple lines very much point out why some people have compassion, and others either don't have any or have difficulty mustering it up at times.

Most mothers have probably had a time or two when, in spite of preferring not to cry in front of their toddler, they couldn't stop themselves.  Mothers who have had this situation have also most likely experienced feeling the compassionate and oh-so-tiny hand of their small child, patting them gently in an attempt to make them feel better.  When very small children have normal, loving, parents it seems as if they come by compassion quite naturally and instinctively.

Children who live among parents and other family members who show them and others compassion, just kind of naturally see the value of compassion, as well as its important role in relationships with other people.  Children who live in families where compassion is not "just part of everyday life", and where it is not valued enough to show it in even small ways, often abandon their earliest and naturally occurring compassion when life gets more complex.

Even when parents think they value compassion, if they don't make it a part of everyday life in very small ways (whether that's out of being impatient, very busy, unintentionally insensitive, or forgetting that young children are little, individual, human beings) that common, naturally occurring compassion that once seemed so sweet in a two-year-old does tend to become abandoned.   Once it has been, parents who do, in their own way, value compassion are faced with a child who may appear to need to be taught about the very compassion they originally had, but learned to outgrow.

Some people don't think of compassion in terms of their own family.  Some think of it as something we must develop for those times when we are faced with "those less fortunate than ourselves".   When a four-year-old who has laid awake in his bed a little too long starts to think about how the animals on his wallpaper are scaring him, parents' thoughts often first go to how they can get their child to stay in his bed and go to sleep.  A surprising number of parents don't seem to have a bit of compassion for a young child with a four-year-old imagination that mixes with his unhappiness at laying there in the dark, and turns feeling bad into feeling scared.   How many parents have no compassion when a child does not want to eat the rest of his vegetables, but the parents insist he eat what he doesn't want to eat?  How many don't ask themselves, "How would I like to be forced to eat when I don't like the food or have eaten all I want to eat?"

What about parents who let their babies cry themselves to sleep; or parents who are actually opposed to comforting a one-year-old who falls and hurts himself, because they believe that he "has to learn".

These can all seem like small things, but when you're two or four or six years old these are big things.  These are the things that let you know how the world will treat you when you are in distress, and whether anyone will try to understand you when you're too little to even understand yourself (let alone the reasons why the most trusted people in your life are not "there" for you).

So, as a child gets to be close to kindergarten age, some parents - out of their valuing compassion "in theory" - will begin to teach children about this important trait.  This is when they may make it a point to pack up the care packages to bring to the local shelter, or hand their child some cash to drop in the Salvation Army kettle at Christmas time.  They will talk about how "Not everyone is as fortunate as we are, and we need to share."  Some parents, in a wish to accomplish two aims at one time, will tell children to select some of their own toys (which have become too much clutter at home) to give to "the poor kids".  What is missed in a situation like that particular one is the fact that the child who doesn't want to part with his extra stuffed animals is not being treated with compassion by the parent who talks about its importance.

Some of these "contrived" lessons, of course, do help children realize that it is important to share with those who have less (in belongings, luck, or health) than we have.  Suggesting that a ten-year-old child volunteer to bring in an elderly neighbor's trash cans does give a child an awareness of both the needs of others and the sense of responsibility in caring for others.  They aren't without their use or value, whether or not a child has grown up with natural compassion or not.  Still, for the child who has not grown up in a home where genuine compassion has been shown in some of the smallest ways, the kind of compassion that is learned through "teaching moments" can sometimes be a shallower form of genuine compassion.  Also, underneath the kind of compassion that is taught in this way can be the motive of "doing what is right because it is the right thing to do", rather than "naturally having compassion because it is part of our core".

With regard to adults who have grown up with the idea that compassion is taught or adopted, rather than part of their core, it can be difficult to teach children what they, themselves, have not experienced.    None of us is immune to life experiences, though, so even people who are somewhat "compassion challenged" often develop compassion as a result of something they've witnessed in life.  As is often evidenced during widespread tragedy (such as hurricane or tornado devastation), most people seem to have quite a bit of compassion.  Apparently, even the "compassion challenged" often return to their earliest roots when faced not with their own mother in tears, but with other innocent victims shedding tears.

So, with "all signs pointing to most adults having compassion", why address the matter of developing compassion at all?  There are two compassion-related issues that could stand a little scrutiny.

The first is compassion without genuine understanding.  Most of us have heard someone say, "There but for the grace of God go I", as they write their check for a charity or bring a Winter coat to a homeless shelter.   Sometimes, however, the kind and well intentioned compassion that prompts acts of charity and causes someone to say, "There but for the grace of God go I," leaves the following words unspoken, "only it wouldn't ever really be me, because I'm not the type to allow myself to ever get into that kind of situation."  What so many people truly don't realize is that many of the people in "that kind of situation" actually once thought the same way.

While there may be a very small minority of people who are, in fact, immune to ever finding themselves in such a situation; what most people don't realize is that the "bar" that marks those who may possibly be immune is far higher than most would imagine.  Without a whole presentation about how seemingly "immune" people could actually find themselves as "less fortunate", the point is that compassion that silently adds, "only it wouldn't ever really be me.." is compassion without understanding (which is never quite as genuine as compassion with understanding).  Treating someone with compassion and respect is a good thing; but really feeling compassion and respect is true compassion.

The second compassion-related issue worth considering is selective compassion.  This is when someone has compassion for, say, the family whose home has burned down or the elderly neighbor who uses a walker; but has no compassion for people in situations that appear to be of their own creation.

Listeners to talk radio often hear what selective compassion sounds like:  "I don't mind my tax dollars going to the elderly, but I don't want to pay for some 'baby factory's' illegitimate kids, " or "That mother of those octuplets should go to jail," or "I'm not giving anything to homeless addicts.  It's their own fault."  

Selective compassion can be a different form of compassion without understanding, but the difference is that compassion is reserved only for some people; rather than being shown toward all people but with lack of true understanding.

Can any of us be expected to understand that an alcoholic may have been just one more teen drinking with his buddies too young, but discovering he was the one who had trouble stopping?
Can we be expected to know that young mother of four small children was born to a mother who had her at sixteen, didn't think girls grew up to do much more than have babies, and thought she was a good mother by letting her daughter have the same freedom "all the other kids" seemed to have?

Can we expect anyone to have ESP and know that the homeless guy keeping warm at the heated ATM booth has an engineering degree but was mistreated in divorce proceedings and later laid off from his job?  Does any of us know which homeless people were mentally ill before they became homeless and which became ill after living in the streets for too long?  Who among us knows which of the people we see as "less fortunate than us" can't work because they've tried to keep a family together in poverty for long they have become physically and emotionally exhausted?  Also, which of all those radio callers, who call in to talk about how someone on food stamps was in front of them and buying steak tips or whatever else they were buying, knows that, perhaps, that person and his family has lived on macaroni and rice for months and just decided to buy something special for a change?

We can't expect strangers (or even acquaintances) to know such things; but people with true compassion usually know that such things do happen.  People with selective compassion decide who is worthy of compassion and who isn't, and don't want to understand that sometimes even those who seem to have created their own problems may not, underneath, be the ones responsible.

It's easy to understand that the electrical fire in the neighbors' home was nobody's fault (or at least maybe not their own).  It's easy to understand that the elderly woman with a walker broke her hip three years ago, and it never healed.  It's not as easy to understand some situations, though, because the cause of them is complex; and truly understanding them may make people feel a little threatened about possibly finding themselves in such a situation one day.  It's more comfortable and less depressing to imagine that homelessness and other awful things have their roots in some flaw or weakness in the person facing those bad situations.  Facing the reality that there are times when a strong, healthy, intelligent, educated, person may find himself homeless (or in some other awful situation) would mean having to face the seemingly impossible-to-believe reality that it truly can happen to anyone.

Since nobody seems to have the answer to preventing some awful situations, it can be extremely uncomfortable for some people to face the fact that awful things for which there is not always prevention or cure do exist.  Besides, there is no emotional incentive to want to understand because that would eliminate the opportunity to feel superior to someone else in this world.

And so, some people choose selective compassion or no compassion at all.  It's easier on the brain to do that, and it can protect a fragile and/or demanding ego.

What kind of self-centeredness allows (even if unintentionally) ego to get in the way of true compassion?  What kind of person can say, "Those octuplets should be taken away from their mother, and I don't my tax dollars being spent on feeding them," or "If those people have money problems it must because they didn't manage their money well."?  What kind of people grow up to be almost proud of their lack of compassion, as if they believe it shows strength and maturity?
Did someone teach them that people who are hurting "have to learn"?  Did someone in their life teach them that not being late for something is more important than trying to offer comfort to someone who is afraid or unhappy?

When someone calls a talk radio show and berates a young girl, from a disadvantaged background, who has had three babies too young; can he not understand that the young mother may have been born to parents who didn't know how to be better teachers and role models?

When it comes to people who have grown up to have no compassion or selective compassion, if we asked them why it is they do not show more compassion, would the answer be, "The world showed no compassion to me."?