When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled; and he said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” Jesus wept.
John 11:33-35
This past week, the issue of racial injustice has once again come to the forefront of the national commentary.
I don’t claim to have the answers to any of the weighty problems our society is facing, but I do know that there is great power in listening to others and honoring their grief (or anger, or disappointment–any emotion they might be feeling).
As a society, we are terribly uncomfortable with grief. We would rather slap a woefully-inadequate bandaid on an open, bleeding wound and pretend that fixes the problem than allow someone to cry over it.
Taking action to remedy injustice is important, yes. But more than anything else, people need to be heard. They need to be heard without being dismissed or belittled or mocked. They need to be treated with compassion.
The word compassion literally means “to suffer with.” (From the Latin com, meaning “with,” and pati, meaning “to suffer.”) So what does that look like?
It looks like Jesus weeping with those who mourned for Lazarus.
It looks like Mary weeping over the bruised and bloody body of her Son.
It looks like holding space for grief. It looks like saying, “I am so sorry.” It looks like listening with empathy.
You don’t have to be afraid to listen. No one can force you to change your mind if you don’t want to. But when you keep your heart open, when you act from a place of compassion instead of defensiveness, you acknowledge the imago Dei borne by every man, woman, and child.
And that is a beautiful thing.
“The works of mercy are charitable actions by which we come to the aid of our neighbor in his spiritual and bodily necessities. Instructing, advising, consoling, comforting are spiritual works of mercy, as are forgiving and bearing wrongs patiently.” — CCC 2447 (emphasis added)
Talking to Wildflowers 