I’ll Stand By You
Being There
Compassion may look quite simple, but sharing in a deeper compassion with others is beyond words; it’s built in a presence.
Years ago at my mother’s wake, I encountered friends and relatives who struggled with what to say to my family. Who can find the right words in such a situation? We may even worry or hesitate to talk to another, knowing we can’t absolve their pain. No one can put together words to reach the depth of loss and love that grief knows.
A friend of hers, a man who worked at the grocery store she went to several times a week, came to her wake. He could barely look at us, and did so with moist eyes. He said simply, “She was my friend,” and then left. I don’t remember the conversations I had with anyone else that evening decades ago, but I remember him. He taught me that compassion doesn’t need complex words or insights. He came to be with us. We can all be compassionate even if our words and actions are clumsy and tentative. Oftentimes being compassionate involves vulnerability.
Taking Up the Cross of Jesus
In the Gospels we are told of a powerful act of compassion. In Jesus’ last hours, he was helped by Simon of Cyrene, the man who took up Jesus’ cross. Why did he do it? Did he want to help?
Matthew’s Gospel says those leading Jesus out to Golgotha compelled him to do it. Luke’s narrative says they seized him. The job was filthy and demeaning. Helping a convicted criminal, he was publicly humiliated himself. He became the companion of someone he did not know, headed for death. The Romans forced him; here, help this fellow. But who was Simon, the man who took up the cross of Jesus? What became of him?
Our earliest Gospel is Mark. Here Simon is identified in an intriguing way—as a “passer-by.” He is in from the country. He is a father, whose sons are Alexander and Rufus. (See 15:21.) Scripture scholars point out that this detail could be important to the earliest audiences of Mark’s Gospel. A few decades after the death and resurrection of Jesus, they may have known Simon’s sons. It is intriguing to speculate about what happened to Simon after his own experience that afternoon. How did he see Jesus? What were the ripple effects of that day on his family? Simon’s journey into Jerusalem became something far different than what he expected when he left Cyrene. He became a disciple on Jesus’ journey to the cross, one we are constantly called to join on our own spiritual journey.
What Makes Us Disciples?
Passion leads us on our journey to Christ. Compassion draws us in. We become Christlike by acting like Christ. And taking up Christ’s cross means taking basic, simple steps. Taking up our cross means carrying the cross of another. Our first challenge in that is to see and hear those in need. The next challenge is to act.
There is such a great need for compassion in the world that it is difficult to even face the challenges that call us. News images and other media bring vast numbers of people in need before us. The temptation is to turn away. Yet the response of compassion we are called to make is deceptively simple. We can take up their crosses. And in the ripple effect of simple acts, a shared common call, we can experience deep reservoirs of compassion.
As an example, I know two people who have started giving away food to the homeless because of the example of the young man I mentioned earlier. One of them has recently been working in a grade school too. The young man himself works for a nonprofit agency helping orphaned children. He doesn’t just give away food, he writes letters and grants.
Compassion links us to Christ and to others and forever connects us to the meal he shared with his disciples on his last night. (See Lk 22:15–16.) Jesus’ heart breaks open again in his words; he has longed to eat with them here.
The Book of Revelation looks at our final destination as followers of Christ. From his exile on the island of Patmos, the visionary John writes, “I also saw the holy city, a new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God” (21:2). He heard a voice that said, “Behold, God’s dwelling is with the human race. He will dwell with them and they will be his people and God himself will always be with them [as their God]. He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there shall be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain” (21:3–4).
We look forward to the city where we will celebrate the banquet of the Lamb of God. The cities we see right now look quite different. The calling for us to be Christ’s eyes, hands, and heart as we move in our own cities is dramatic. If frustration is clearly in front of us, so too is our calling. As the Second Vatican Council phrased the call of the Church in the modern world, “The joys and the hopes, the griefs and the anxieties of the men of this age, especially those who are poor or in any way afflicted, these are the joys and hopes, the griefs and anxieties of the followers of Christ” (Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World, 1).