GOD’S COMPASSION

As one of the primary attributes of God, compassion is also one of God’s greatest gifts to us.  The more intimate our relationship to God becomes, the more compassionate we become in our relationships with others.

Compassion suggests a great deal more than sympathy or empathy.  Compassion means to passion with, to share the passion of the other—be it fear, pain, sorrow, or despair.  The word has its roots in the womb work of reproduction.  When we are compassionate, we participate in the creative work that each kind of passion produces.

What an opportunity we have each time we allow our innate wombedness to participate with another’s.  Something of God’s goodness is sure to result.

NEAR-SACRIFICE

The story of the sacrifice of Isaac is so powerful that it is never referred to as the near-sacrifice. Abraham’s willingness to give up his son was 100%. The story shows, with two characters and God, what, in the Jesus narrative, is accomplished in one human being. In stories the spiritual must be represented in the physical else there is nothing for the reader to work with in a symbolic way. The physical can be interpreted in many ways and that is what makes a good story.

For Abraham, the son he had prayed for, his life link to progeny, his proof of manhood, the long-awaited delivery of God’s promise—all this as his most prized possession was being asked of him.

Jesus was asked to give his life, his most prized possession—a life lived doing what he thought was most important: preaching, teaching, healing—what he thought God wanted him to do. As all those things were given up, he became, in the narrative, one whose very being was transformed. The story says his being was so transparent and ethereal he could move through a locked door, and yet he could eat and drink as a normal human.

He was recognized in a prayer of thanks. He prepared a meal for his friends (first time ever in all gospel accounts). He didn’t preach or teach or heal. He encouraged his friends to be compassionate. He just was. His being was enough. His being was exactly what God wanted of him. And what God wants of us.

A willingness to sacrifice ourselves results in a near-sacrifice in that only what needs to die dies and the real self is born into our transformed personalities. The stories of Isaac and Jesus are our stories—or are meant to be.

(Note: A book entitled Humpty Dumpty Hatched, which tells the story of transformation of one personality, is available on this website.)

Mottos We Adopt

From a great deal  of pondering over all my previous negative behavior, I began to see some mottos I had adopted early in my life.  It was easy to find the ‘Be Strong’ that I decided would protect me from punishments like that I received from the crying incident.  And my ‘Be Strong’ also kept me from shedding tears over much sadness that warranted them.

It took a while before I saw the other mottos. ‘Be Right’ was surely the one that had kept me from ever apologizing to my family.  ‘Be Powerful’ fed my need to be in control of everything possible.

I had no idea, however, that my mottos were so evident to others outside my family.  After my Humpty Dumpty transformation experience, I had an opportunity to visit with an elderly gentleman who had been a member of the Worship Committee at my church when I had been the chair.  When I told him I felt like I was a completely different person from the one I had been for decades, he replied, “Well, I hope so.  I decided in that committee that I didn’t want to be on your train or in the way of it!.”  We both laughed at his insight and I appreciated his revelation.

My conviction is that no matter how we are perceived to the contrary, the mottos we choose for ourselves are our best attempts to improve on ourselves–make ourselves into good people–the best we can be.

My mother gave me a motto at a  young age–‘Don’t Embarrass the Family.’  It is only just now obvious to me that her embarrassment at my three-year-old crying incident was the deciding factor.  Throughout my growing up, she often reminded me of this directive.  There must be something in my personality that continued to make my family fear I would do something that reflected badly on them because one of my sons seemed at an early age to give me the same motto.  Or maybe the mottos we give others are merely projections of facets of our personality we haven’t adequately dealt with.

Paradoxically, our mottos need to be given up in order for them to be authentically incorporated into our personality.  The ‘giving up’ manifests itself in the opposite of the motto.  In my three-day crisis, there was nothing strong or powerful about me.  I experienced just the opposite.  And in my Great Confession I admitted all the ‘not rightness’ (unrighteousness?!) about myself.  Only after the crisis did I emerge with a genuine strength and sense of power that I never had before.

My motto now is simply ‘Be.’  And I think the same is intended for everyone.  Out of the essence of our authentic Being emerges a wholeness that needs no other mottos.

Humpty’s Tall Wall

The Humpty Dumpty metaphor continues to intrigue me. In all the cartoons I’ve collected there is a wall. Either Humpty is sitting on top of it or he has fallen off and lies in pieces at its base.

In my research I find that Humpty Dumpty is the perennial favorite rhyme among pre-schoolers and older. Perhaps it is the rhythm of the rhyme or the rhyme itself—with its too-long last line. Perhaps it is the absurdity of an egg sitting on a wall—and the obvious understanding that eventually it will roll off. Perhaps it is the fact that the egg is always pictured as if it had human characteristics and could carry on a conversation. Whatever the appeal, we can ask any random child if he knows the rhyme and he’ll probably recite it.

In psychological terms, I argue that the wall represents the inevitable precipice that our psyche is forming all the time that we are establishing ourselves as competent humans in a world where competence is required

Competence and protection are our watchwords. We work to be able to function in the world and also harden our shell to protect ourselves. This shell-hardening begins early in childhood, at the moment we feel wounded by someone or something and subconsciously resolve to try to keep that from happening again.

Mine was the incident where I cried to keep my mother from leaving me when she took me to my Sunday School class right after my younger sister was born. I was three and a half. She stayed but was embarrassed, later told my father, and I was humiliated by the punishment. Something in my little psyche resolved at that moment not to cry, and for 40 years the hard shell I manufactured honored that resolve.

But the wall grows taller under us and the danger of falling increases. We’re so busy hardening our shell that we do not notice. Then one day perhaps we look down and are amazed. And the wall continues to grow taller.

This wall and the falling off it represents the crisis whereby the new being is hatched out.

 

Important Dream Revelations

I continued eager to find ways to tell people of the miracle that awaited their permission.  But I was always cognizant of my family’s directive against forcing myself on folks.

Some dreams came during this time to help me see that I wasn’t yet ready to give people the good news that had come to me. Several had to do with teaching. The old inadequacy dreams: I had a teaching job but couldn’t find my room; I was employed at a new school but couldn’t get there on time; I was in my classroom but had not made adequate preparations.

One had me with a friend who has chronic back problems. I touched is back and he took my arm. We tried to help each other up a long flight of stairs to my classroom. I realized I needed a great deal more help that he did.

The most exhausting dream was one in which I was assisting a medical doctor with his patients, listening carefully to their complaints and advising the doctor on what should be done for them. Suddenly I became totally confused, unable to comprehend the patient or remember the complaint of think of a proper remedy. I knew I was in no way ready to help others.

Perhaps one of the most revealing dreams was the one where I was in the sanctuary of my church. Something exciting seemed about to happen. Suddenly I was catapulted out the roof and sat atop one of the walls to observe the festivities below. As I studied that dream the idea came to me that maybe I would not be able to use the church  as a vehicle for spreading the word of my transformation.

I pondered my dreams and wondered what would be my vehicle. Then I found myself thinking of people I knew who were in crisis. I decided rather than call or go to see them, I would write to them a summary of my experience and encourage them to dialogue with their Inner Wisdom. Some called or wrote to thank me for my concern. Some I never heard from. None asked me for more information. I decided at least I had planted a seed.

The Unexpected Crisis

My husband met me at the airport as I was arriving home from a meeting out of state. As soon as I saw him, the tears I had been holding back with all my might for hours were released and I began sobbing in his arms.

“What in the world is the matter?”

“I don’t know.”

“What happened at the meeting to upset you?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. I kept thinking on the way home that maybe something terrible had happened to you or one of the boys.”

“No, we’re all fine. Or at least I think so. Robert is still on his Boy Scout camping trip. He’ll be home tomorrow. But I haven’t had word of any problem. Now just relax and I’ll put in a call to check on the troop.”

“Okay,” I said, still shaking with sobs.
“Now, you know no news is good news, right?”

“Right,” I said, still sobbing.

“Well, let’s get your bags and go home.”

All the hour’s drive home I sniffled and wept, trying my best to stop. We reached home and the phone call was made. All was well in the scout troop.

And still I wept. I was frightened, more frightened than I’d ever been in my life. I had no idea what caused the tears but I couldn’t stop them. Through the night and the next day the tears continued. I believed I needed tranquilizers or other drugs, but a little thought in the back of my head told me that I would be all right only if I didn’t take any drugs. A therapist friend diagnosed the situation as a crisis and said I would get through it if I didn’t thwart the process with drugs or alcohol.
Sometime during the next day I was moved to ask all my family members to gather because I had something important to tell them. I call that now my Great Confession.