For delivery April 15, 2012
St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church
Compassion
How Do We Enlarge the Great Circle of Compassion?
A Homily Originally Prepared for Delivery
January 17, 2010
National Coalition to Abolish the Death Penalty Annual Meeting
Louisville, KY
By: Donald Vish
***
Note: 4-15-12: In January 2010, the National Coalition to Abolish the Death Penalty asked me to deliver a homily at an interfaith worship service organized by our Terry Taylor of Interfaith Paths to Peace. At the conclusion of all NCADP meetings the participants join hands and form what they call the great circle of compassion. They asked me to address the topic: “How do we expand the great circle of compassion.” Here’s what I said:
** ** ** **
Thank you for staying for this part of the program--the homily. All the religions of the world agree on one thing for sure: there’s no thief worse than a bad sermon. So special thanks to each of you for your trust and your faith in remaining in this room.
When I was first asked to preach a homily on compassion I said "No. I am willing to preach to the choir but I'm not willing to preach to the pope. What can I possibly say about compassion to an audience that's got Sister Helen and my patron saint Bud Welsh in it? The only thing Sister Helen is going to like about me is that I don't talk with an accent." So, "No way" I said.
But my friend Fr. Delahanty would not take no and cajoled and flattered me into ‘yes.’
So, here I am.
My invitation to speak so to speak included specific instructions to answer the question:
How Do We Enlarge the Great Circle of Compassion?
I’m going to answer that question. I’m just not going to answer it very quickly. I wouldn’t be a very good preacher if I got to the point too soon.
The Golden Rule: (Say it. You know the words): do unto others as you would have others do unto you.
That’s a good rule of good sense. It’s valuable as a cornerstone of justice. It’s a solid metric for fairness. It’s true in the same way it’s true to say: whoever smiles will always have a reason to smile.
But the Golden Rule is not an expression of compassion.
First, it affirms otherness, thee and me that leads to thine and mine. Secondly, it is ever so slightly animated with self-interest expressing in Elizabethan language what the 3-card Monte dealer says more plainly about the arc of justice: what goes around comes around.
Plato’s dictum comes closer to compassion: be kind, everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.
Plato’s sermon is built on empathy not compassion. Empathy is based on perception, understanding. Empathy is neither sympathy nor pity each of which relates to the adverse impact someone else’s suffering has on us!
Sympathy means ‘fellow feeling’ and requires a certain degree of equality. Pity, on the other hand, regards its object as weak and hence as inferior. We have place in Kentucky we call down home. Everybody knows where it is. Down home they like to say pity don't cost nothing 'cause pity ain't worth nothing.
Compassion is the selfless disposition to relieve human suffering. It soars above empathy and sympathy and pity. Compassion is the noblest trait of human nature. Dante would call it caritas, pure love with no expectation of a quid pro quo.
Make no mistake: many good works are built on the Golden Rule, on empathy, on sympathy, on pity and on lesser motives like fame and glory and vanity and self-interest. They all count. But compassion is in a class by itself.
When General Agamemnon was ready to launch 1000 ships to invade Troy, he had two problems: the first one is so typical of blood vengeance—no one knew how to get to Troy. They attacked the wrong country.
Blood vengeance is always ready to act before its ready to act. Vengeance never misses an opportunity to miss an opportunity. It is ever and always aimless and misdirected even though its arc is predictable and certain: it comes around then goes around.
Like Macbeth’s vaulting ambition, vengeance o’erleaps itself and then falls on itself.
Agamemnon’s second problem was the lack of wind. The ships could not sail. The man had 1000 sail boats and no wind. So he made a bargain with the gods—he sacrificed his daughter for a favorable breeze. Then the ships sailed for Troy and war began.
Agamemnon’s murder of his daughter ensured that he would return home from war to more war.
Under the law of blood vengeance, his daughter’s mother was obligated to murder him—and she did; and under the law of blood vengeance her son was obligated to murder her—and he did; and under the law of blood vengeance, her daughter was obligated to murder her brother…and so it goes.
The arc of vengeance is as sure and as certain as the laws of mathematics: a series ending where it begins, and repeating itself.
Those words are the dictionary definition of a circle—as well as a complete treatise on blood vengeance.
Like a pebble dropped into a pond, vengeance sends out ripple after ripple each extending its sphere until it runs out of space or spends itself.
Vengeance is a circle. A circle delineates, it defines and separates the inside from the outside. The circle is closed. Any segment of a circle is a curved line.
In architecture, a curved line is pretty but it’s weak. Leonardo reflected on the weakness of curved lines and made an astounding observation: two curved lines when propped up against each other form an arch: one of the strongest formations in architecture. So an arch is a strength created by two weaknesses.
Here’s the answer to the question—enlarge the circle of compassion by never closing it.
Keep the circle open. Reach out, join hands with one another in a tangible display of unity, solidarity and connectedness; but let those on each end extend an open hand to the world at-large as an invitation to others to join hands.
Let the circle of compassion be like Leonardo’s arch, a strength comprised of many weaknesses.
As delivered
January 17, 2010
971 words
Showing posts with label compassion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label compassion. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Compassion
How Do We Enlarge the Great Circle of Compassion?
A Homily Prepared for Delivery
January 17, 2010
National Coalition to Abolish the Death Penalty Annual Meeting
Louisville, KY
By: Donald Vish
***
Thank you for staying for this part of the program--the homily. All the religions of the world agree on one thing for sure: there’s no thief worse than a bad sermon. So special thanks to each of you for your trust and your faith in remaining in this room.
When I was first asked to preach a homily on compassion I said "No. I am willing to preach to the choir but I'm not willing to preach to the pope. What can I possibly say about compassion to an audience that's got Sister Helen and my patron saint Bud Welsh in it? The only thing Sister Helen is going to like about me is that I don't talk with an accent." So, "No way" I said.
Have any of you every tried to tell Fr. Pat "No." ( Patrick Delahanty is the chair of the Kentucky Coalition to Abolish the Death Penalty and a lobbyist for the Catholic Conference). Well try it and you'll learn why he is such a successful lobbyist in Frankfort.
So, here I am. My invitation to speak so to speak included specific instructions to answer the question:
How Do We Enlarge the Great Circle of Compassion?
I’m going to answer that question. I’m just not going to answer it very quickly. I wouldn’t be a very good preacher if I got to the point too soon.
The Golden Rule: (Say it. You know the words): do unto others as you would have others do unto you.
That’s a good rule of good sense. It’s valuable as a cornerstone of justice. It’s a solid metric for fairness. It’s true in the same way it’s true to say: whoever smiles will always have a reason to smile.
But the Golden Rule is not an expression of compassion.
First, it affirms otherness, thee and me that leads to thine and mine. Secondly, it is ever so slightly animated with self-interest expressing in Elizabethan language what the 3-card Monte dealer says more plainly about the arc of justice: what goes around comes around.
Plato’s dictum comes closer to compassion: be kind, everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.
Plato’s sermon is built on empathy not compassion. Empathy is based on perception, understanding. Empathy is neither sympathy nor pity each of which relates to the adverse impact someone else’s suffering has on us! Sympathy means ‘fellow feeling’ and requires a certain degree of equality. Pity, on the other hand, regards its object as weak and hence as inferior. We have place in Kentucky we call down home. Everybody knows where it is. Down home they like to say pity don't cost nothing 'cause pity ain't worth nothing.
Compassion is the selfless disposition to relieve human suffering. It soars above empathy and sympathy and pity. Compassion is the noblest trait of human nature. Dante would call it caritas, pure love with no expectation of a quid pro quo.
Make no mistake: many good works are built on the Golden Rule, on empathy, on sympathy, on pity and on lesser motives like fame and glory and vanity and self-interest. They all count. But compassion is in a class by itself.
When General Agamemnon was ready to launch 1000 ships to invade Troy, he had two problems: the first one is so typical of blood vengeance—no one knew how to get to Troy. They attacked the wrong country.
Blood vengeance is always ready to act before its ready to act. Vengeance never misses an opportunity to miss an opportunity. It is ever and always aimless and misdirected even though its arc is predictable and certain: it comes around then goes around.
Like Macbeth’s vaulting ambition, vengeance o’erleaps itself and then falls on itself.
Agamemnon’s second problem was the lack of wind. The ships could not sail. The man had 1000 sail boats and no wind. So he made a bargain with the gods—he sacrificed his daughter for a favorable breeze. Then the ships sailed for Troy and war began.
Agamemnon’s murder of his daughter ensured that he would return home from war to more war. Under the law of blood vengeance, his daughter’s mother was obligated to murder him—and she did; and under the law of blood vengeance her son was obligated to murder her—and he did; and under the law of blood vengeance, her daughter was obligated to murder her brother…and so it goes.
The arc of vengeance is as sure and as certain as the laws of mathematics: a series ending where it begins, and repeating itself. Those words are the dictionary definition of a circle—as well as a complete treatise on blood vengeanc.
Like a pebble dropped into a pond, vengeance sends out ripple after ripple each extending its sphere until it runs out of space or spends itself.
Vengeance is a circle. A circle delineates, it defines and separates the inside from the outside. The circle is closed. Any segment of a circle is a curved line.
In architecture, a curved line is pretty but it’s weak. Leonardo reflected on the weakness of curved lines and made an astounding observation: two curved lines when propped up against each other form an arch: one of the strongest formations in architecture. So an arch is a strength created by two weaknesses.
Here’s the answer to the question—enlarge the circle of compassion by never closing it.
Keep the circle open. Reach out, join hands with one another in a tangible display of unity, solidarity and connectedness; but let those on each end extend an open hand to the world at-large as an invitation to others to join hands.
Let the circle of compassion be like Leonardo’s arch, a strength comprised of many weaknesses.
As delivered
Janaury 17, 2010
960 words
A Homily Prepared for Delivery
January 17, 2010
National Coalition to Abolish the Death Penalty Annual Meeting
Louisville, KY
By: Donald Vish
***
Thank you for staying for this part of the program--the homily. All the religions of the world agree on one thing for sure: there’s no thief worse than a bad sermon. So special thanks to each of you for your trust and your faith in remaining in this room.
When I was first asked to preach a homily on compassion I said "No. I am willing to preach to the choir but I'm not willing to preach to the pope. What can I possibly say about compassion to an audience that's got Sister Helen and my patron saint Bud Welsh in it? The only thing Sister Helen is going to like about me is that I don't talk with an accent." So, "No way" I said.
Have any of you every tried to tell Fr. Pat "No." ( Patrick Delahanty is the chair of the Kentucky Coalition to Abolish the Death Penalty and a lobbyist for the Catholic Conference). Well try it and you'll learn why he is such a successful lobbyist in Frankfort.
So, here I am. My invitation to speak so to speak included specific instructions to answer the question:
How Do We Enlarge the Great Circle of Compassion?
I’m going to answer that question. I’m just not going to answer it very quickly. I wouldn’t be a very good preacher if I got to the point too soon.
The Golden Rule: (Say it. You know the words): do unto others as you would have others do unto you.
That’s a good rule of good sense. It’s valuable as a cornerstone of justice. It’s a solid metric for fairness. It’s true in the same way it’s true to say: whoever smiles will always have a reason to smile.
But the Golden Rule is not an expression of compassion.
First, it affirms otherness, thee and me that leads to thine and mine. Secondly, it is ever so slightly animated with self-interest expressing in Elizabethan language what the 3-card Monte dealer says more plainly about the arc of justice: what goes around comes around.
Plato’s dictum comes closer to compassion: be kind, everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.
Plato’s sermon is built on empathy not compassion. Empathy is based on perception, understanding. Empathy is neither sympathy nor pity each of which relates to the adverse impact someone else’s suffering has on us! Sympathy means ‘fellow feeling’ and requires a certain degree of equality. Pity, on the other hand, regards its object as weak and hence as inferior. We have place in Kentucky we call down home. Everybody knows where it is. Down home they like to say pity don't cost nothing 'cause pity ain't worth nothing.
Compassion is the selfless disposition to relieve human suffering. It soars above empathy and sympathy and pity. Compassion is the noblest trait of human nature. Dante would call it caritas, pure love with no expectation of a quid pro quo.
Make no mistake: many good works are built on the Golden Rule, on empathy, on sympathy, on pity and on lesser motives like fame and glory and vanity and self-interest. They all count. But compassion is in a class by itself.
When General Agamemnon was ready to launch 1000 ships to invade Troy, he had two problems: the first one is so typical of blood vengeance—no one knew how to get to Troy. They attacked the wrong country.
Blood vengeance is always ready to act before its ready to act. Vengeance never misses an opportunity to miss an opportunity. It is ever and always aimless and misdirected even though its arc is predictable and certain: it comes around then goes around.
Like Macbeth’s vaulting ambition, vengeance o’erleaps itself and then falls on itself.
Agamemnon’s second problem was the lack of wind. The ships could not sail. The man had 1000 sail boats and no wind. So he made a bargain with the gods—he sacrificed his daughter for a favorable breeze. Then the ships sailed for Troy and war began.
Agamemnon’s murder of his daughter ensured that he would return home from war to more war. Under the law of blood vengeance, his daughter’s mother was obligated to murder him—and she did; and under the law of blood vengeance her son was obligated to murder her—and he did; and under the law of blood vengeance, her daughter was obligated to murder her brother…and so it goes.
The arc of vengeance is as sure and as certain as the laws of mathematics: a series ending where it begins, and repeating itself. Those words are the dictionary definition of a circle—as well as a complete treatise on blood vengeanc.
Like a pebble dropped into a pond, vengeance sends out ripple after ripple each extending its sphere until it runs out of space or spends itself.
Vengeance is a circle. A circle delineates, it defines and separates the inside from the outside. The circle is closed. Any segment of a circle is a curved line.
In architecture, a curved line is pretty but it’s weak. Leonardo reflected on the weakness of curved lines and made an astounding observation: two curved lines when propped up against each other form an arch: one of the strongest formations in architecture. So an arch is a strength created by two weaknesses.
Here’s the answer to the question—enlarge the circle of compassion by never closing it.
Keep the circle open. Reach out, join hands with one another in a tangible display of unity, solidarity and connectedness; but let those on each end extend an open hand to the world at-large as an invitation to others to join hands.
Let the circle of compassion be like Leonardo’s arch, a strength comprised of many weaknesses.
As delivered
Janaury 17, 2010
960 words
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Lockerbie Compassion Release Proves Nothing is so Good it Can't be Bad
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Compassion and the Straight Face Test August 23, 2009
Compassion is the basis of morality. ---Arthur Schopenhauer
For Schopenhauer, compassion, the direct participation in the suffering of another, is the foundation of ethics from which humanitarianism and justice derive. He relates compassion to the Great Pronouncement of Hinduism: this is thyself or sometimes translated this thou art. The Hindu dictum posits the oneness of the world—the reality that what one does to another one does to oneself.
This is not the selfless compassion of the selfless love called agape. It is instead the pragmatism of the golden rule do unto others, as you would have others do unto you because they are you and the rationalized compassion of the old biblical injunction to love your neighbor as yourself.
In Schopenhauer’s construct, compassion sees through the artificial wall between thee and me and regards separateness as an illusion. Schopenhauer's ethics of compassion may be contrasted with Kant's ethics of pure reason.
The clash between the two can produce either chaos or a mature social justice system stabilized by opposites. The difference is rooted in wisdom. Like a symphony composed of many notes, tones and timbres, some sharp, some soft, some sweet and some harsh, a justice system achieves its harmony when balanced by contraries under the steady hand of a skilled conductor. Rational laws and human compassion are the handmaidens of justice. Law is good. Compassion is good.
The recent release of the convicted mass murderer called the Lockerbie bomber, however, proves the truth of the old adage: Nothing is so good it can’t be bad. The same thing might be said of the recent legal pronouncement by at least two members of the United States Supreme Court in the Troy Davis death penalty case: that is, the United States Constitution does not recognize innocence as a legal defense to an impending execution.
Both decisions give law and compassion a bad name and leave one asking; whatever happened to the popular correctives of the law called fairness and common sense?
But is the release of the Lockerbie bomber really an example of compassion? I suggest it is not.
Compassion is not for the exclusive benefit of the subject whose condition provokes it—compassion is a reaction to excessive suffering of the subject of the observer’s pity. The compassionate act provides relief to both the subject and the observer.
No one is entitled to compassion—one is entitled to the strict reckoning required by law based on the constant and perpetual disposition to give everyone his or her just due. Official acts of grace or mercy guided by pity for the excessive suffering of the prisoner is the first but by no means the excusive characteristic of legal compassion.
The dynamics of justice and compassion each involve proportionality. In order for a punishment to be proportionate to the crime, two elements are required. First, the punishment must fit the crime in the sense that it is like the punishment others receive for the same crime; and, secondly, the punishment must vindicate a valid state interest. If the punishment does not vindicate a state interest then the punishment is excessive and violates the Eighth Amendment’s ban on cruel and unusual punishment.
In one application the punishment must not be too much for the prisoner and in the other application the punishment must not be too much for the warden. In a different context Seneca said, in so many words; I understand what the evil man did to deserve his fate, execution by being fed to the lions, but what did I do to deserve the trauma of having to watch it?
The rationale of releasing a prisoner on the verge of death may be that the state no longer has no official interest in further punishment and, therefore, continued incarceration is excessive punishment.
The release of the Lockerbie bomber under color of a compassionate act fails all the basic tests and purposes of compassion. In the Lockerbie case, there was no consensus that the inmate*s suffering was excessive or, indeed, any different from the type of suffering that was actually contemplated when the prisoner was originally sentenced to life in prison, which really means to die in prison. Nor was there any cathartic relief to the community in whose name the compassionate action was taken.
Not only does the Lockerbie decision fail the compassion test, it fails Kant’s rational law test and two lesser-known tests applied by average people everywhere: the smell test and the straight face test.
DV
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