May/Mental Health Month: Healing Compassion (Guest post from Dr. Dennis Ortman)
“My grace is enough for you,
For
in weakness power reaches perfection.”
--St.
Paul
I’m in the business of compassionate healing. As a
psychologist, my patients come to me in emotional and mental pain. They feel
broken and want to be whole. They want relief from their suffering--their
depression, anxiety, tempers, compulsions, and disturbing obsessions. Coming to
me, they ask me to witness their suffering and bring them relief. Two questions
often haunt them: “Why is this happening to me? How can I fix it?” In their
desperation, they look for answers from me, whom they consider “the expert.”
Contrary to their expectations, I direct those questions
back to themselves and assure them, “You have the answers, but don’t know it
yet.” I invite them to pay close attention to their own experience, to listen
to the subtle voices speaking within, and to engage in open and honest dialogue
with themselves. For many, that is a new experience. These voices have been
drowned out by the noise of their lives and their distracting activities. They
may even fear looking into the darkness within. They do not yet believe it can
be a fertile void.
Nevertheless, I assure them, if they take the leap to face
the great unknown within, their heart of darkness, they will discover
surprising treasures. It eventually dawns on them that beneath the
emotional/mental turmoil a far deeper quest is unfolding. They are unknowingly
engaged in a spiritual journey towards wholeness that is beyond their current
abilities. They seek a fullness of life, a quickening of their spirit that has
been stifled by their suffering. I invite them, then, to look within, not
outside themselves, for a Power and Wisdom beyond for freedom, healing, and
growth.
How is that accomplished? By becoming compassionate with
themselves and others. In opening their hearts and minds to themselves and
others, they can deepen their consciousness, allowing new life to be born.
DOUBTING THOMAS
My model for healing is the apostle Thomas, called the
doubter. The apostles had locked themselves in the same upper room where Jesus
celebrated the last supper with them the night before he was executed. Jesus had
spoken his final words of encouragement, promising them the gift of the Spirit
of Truth and Love. But all were shaken when Jesus was crucified. Their hopes
for the Messiah to liberate them were dashed. They fled in fear, and locked
themselves away. Undoubtedly, they all felt guilt for abandoning and betraying
Jesus in his hour of greatest need.
John’s Gospel (John 20: 19-28)recounts the Sunday night
encounter with the risen Lord: “On the evening of that first day of the week,
when the doors were locked, where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews,
Jesus came and stood in their midst and said to them, ‘Peace be with you.’ When
he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. The disciples rejoiced
when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, ‘Peace be with you. As the
Father has sent me, so I send you.’ And when he said this, he breathed on them
and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit. Whose sins you forgive are forgiven
them, and whose sins you retain are retained.’”
The disciples were shocked by Jesus’ unexpected appearance. Fear
had locked down their spirit. They had lost their faith in Jesus after he died.
It was only when they saw his wounds that they came to believe. His previous
words were not enough. The risen Lord proclaimed peace, sent the Spirit upon
them, and told them to forgive sins. In their resurrected faith, they were
commanded to live the Good News of peace and forgiveness, not fear and revenge.
A week later, the Risen Jesus again appeared to the group in
the same locked room: “Thomas, called Didymus, one of the Twelve, was not with
them when Jesus came. So the other disciples said to him, ‘We have seen the
Lord.’ But he said to them, ‘Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands
and put my finger into the nailmarks and put my hand into his side, I will not
believe.’ Now a week later his disciples were again inside and Thomas was with
them. Jesus came, although the doors were locked, and stood in their midst and
said, ‘Peace be with you.’ Then he said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here and
see my hands, and bring your hand and put it into my side, and do not be
unbelieving, but believe.’ Thomas answered and said to him, ‘My Lord and my
God!’”
Again, words were not enough to bring Thomas to faith.
Instead of just seeing Jesus’ wounds, he had to touch them before he could
overcome his disbelief. Peace came to him only after he believed.
Thomas was doubtful, perplexed, confused, and questioning.
My patients possess these same qualities. So they come to me hoping for peace
of mind. All of us experience these inner disturbances from time to time.
Interestingly, those who cannot believe in God today are much like Thomas, unsettled,
skeptical, and searching.
COMPASSION’S POWER
My patients come to me wounded. Many have been deeply
traumatized by childhood abuse and neglect. They have felt victimized by many
cruel events in their lives. Feeling desperate, they want to escape the pain. I
tell them, “Everything that happens in our lives is both a blessing and a
curse. Certainly, everything you have endured has cost you dearly. Could there
be any benefit from all you have suffered?” They may blink in stunned confusion
at what I am suggesting. Then I say, “Let’s together look closely at what you
have experienced to see what we can discover.” I encourage them to tell me
their tragic stories in great detail. I am a compassionate witness to their
suffering. I also ask them to touch their wounds, as did Thomas, to experience
deeply the pain, as they are able. I assure them, “The only way to heal the hurt
is to go through it, and not around it.” My patients often protest, “But this
is so hard!” I respond, “Why should it be easy?”
What is the benefit? By touching and being touched by our
wounds, we can gain compassion both for ourselves and others. The word
compassion means “suffering with.” We begin by suffering with ourselves,
allowing ourselves to experience fully our pain. We sense from the inside,
beyond our thoughts, our fragility. The illusion of our invulnerability as a
human being is shattered. That experience can open our hearts to the suffering
of others. We expand our sensibility and consciousness to put ourselves in the shoes
of another. Compassion creates a bond between us. We suffer together. We are no
different. Together we share the natural desire to end our suffering and to be
happy.
That felt sense of intimacy with both ourselves and others opens
our hearts and minds. We get to know ourselves at a deeper level, beyond our
fragile self-images, as fully human. Awareness of our brokenness unveils our
deeper longings for peace and happiness without end. Our compassion for others
in their distress deepens our intimacy with them. We see them, not as an
abstraction, but as a flesh and blood human being who shares both our fate and
our desires. By sharing in their sufferings, hopes, and fragility, we sense
their inherent beauty and goodness. We are free to love our neighbor as another
self. Finally, compassion can open our minds and hearts to the Infinite present
in our anguish.
Matthew’s account of the Last Judgment (Matthew 25: 31-40) suggests
how compassion for those in need opens us to faith: “Jesus said to his
disciples: ‘When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with
him, he will sit upon his glorious throne, and all the nations will be
assembled before him. And he will separate them one from another, as a shepherd
separates the sheep from the goats. He will place the sheep on his right and
the goats on his left. Then the king will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you
who are blessed by my Father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the
foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me drink, a stranger and
you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison
and you visited me.’” Then, the righteous will ask him when they saw him in
need. “And the king will say to them in reply, ‘Amen, I say to you, whatever
you did for one of the least brothers of mine, you did for me.’” In the poor,
needy, and troubled, including ourselves, we can see the face of Christ.
Our compassion for ourselves and others can reveal the
presence of the Divine in our midst. It can be a call to faith. Perhaps those
who claim to be atheists, but sincerely care for the poor, are true believers.
And we who profess faith in God, but do not care for those in need, are really
nonbelievers. The Dalai Lama famously said, “My religion is kindness.”
PROGRESSIVE PRAYER
Our suffering often brings us to our knees. In my youthful
catechism classes, I learned that there are four types of prayer, with the
acronym “ACTS”: Adoration, Contrition, Thanksgiving, and Supplication. Praying
in these different ways progressively opens our minds and hearts. It also
deepens our awareness of ourselves, others, and God. Let me explain this
progression:
“Help me!”
Supplication is the first step on the journey toward wholeness.
When we sit with our brokenness, we may realize how much we are stuck in our
misery. We question, “Why me?” And we feel powerless to escape its grip. Our
unresolved grief at the tragedy of our lives humbles us. We have to admit the
two phrases we most detest: “I don’t know!” and “I can’t!” Admitting our
helplessness and ignorance leads us to pray, “Help me!”
In that moment, we open our hearts and minds to compassion,
certainly for ourselves, but also for others. Our sorrows hollow our hearts to
make room for others. We cannot have compassion for them until we have felt
deeply our own suffering. Unconsciously, we experience them as another self, a
fellow-pilgrim in life. Furthermore, that moment awakens an awareness of our
deepest yearnings for a Wisdom and Power greater than ourselves to redeem us and
our world. In our emptiness, we long to be filled up.
St. Paul best expresses that experience (2 Corinthians 12:
7-9): “In order that I might not become conceited I was given a thorn in the
flesh, an angel of Satan to beat me and keep me from getting proud. Three times
I begged the Lord that this might leave me. He said to me, ‘My grace is enough
for you,for in weakness power reaches perfection.’ And so I willingly boast of
my weaknesses instead, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” The
humiliation of our powerlessness and weakness prepares the soil for God’s power
to grow within us. Pride, like fear, leaves no room for God to act.
“I’m sorry!”
Contrition marks the second step. When we dive more deeply
into our experience of suffering, it dawns on us that we are not just helpless,
innocent victims. We begin to explore in what ways, whether known or unknown,
intentionally or not, that we contributed to our own and others’ misery. We
look in the mirror and see that the enemy is us. Somehow, we are getting what
we deserve from life. We are reaping the harvest we have sown. Undertaking a
fearless and searching moral inventory, we confess, “I’m sorry!”
Again, St. Paul’s experience is instructive (Romans 7:
18-20, 24-25): “I know that no good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh; the
desire to do right is there but not the power. What happens is that I do, not
the good I will to do, but the evil I do not intend. But if I do what is
against my will, it is not I who do it, but sin which dwells in me….What a
wretched man I am! Who can free me from this body under the power of death? All
praise to God, through Jesus Christ our Lord!’ Like Paul, we acknowledge being
engaged in a relentless inner battle between competing desires and cast
ourselves upon God’s mercy.
“Thank you!”
Thanksgiving arises from a sense of gratitude. As we
honestly and courageously face our suffering and its roots, we feel more
empowered. We draw strength from some hidden source both within and beyond us.
Slowly, we realize how we are not only surviving, but even thriving and growing
stronger through our struggles. Strength of character cannot be developed
except through adversity. Furthermore, we are awakened to the miracle of our
life, realizing that everything we have and that we are has come to us as a gift.
It is all grace. We cry out, “Thank you!”
Contemplating our suffering, we give up our notions about
how we believe our life and the world should be. As the ancient Chinese wisdom
of the Tao Te Ching(16) recommends: “Empty
your mind of all thoughts./ Let your heart be at peace./ Watch the turmoil of
beings,/ but contemplate their return./ Each separate being in the universe/
returns to the common source./ Returning to the source is serenity./If you
don’t realize the source,/ you stumble in confusion and sorrow.” In quiet
reflection, we observe the passing of everything in our experience. We empty
our minds to make room in our hearts for a Higher Presence. We sense the
infinite nameless Source from which all arises and returns.
“Glory to God!”
If we come to faith, adoration follows. Our suffering brings
us to the brink where we decide whether or not to take the leap of faith. We
can stand at the edge, peer over, and just survive our struggles. Or we can
look into the abyss, the Absolute Mystery of life, and surrender in the free fall
of faith. That leap into the unknown promises to bring new life beyond our
imagination. That leap inspires us to pray, “Glory to God in the Highest!”
In the stillness of the night, the shepherds unexpectedly
encountered an angel (Luke 2: 10-14): “The angel said to them, ‘You have
nothing to fear; for behold, I proclaim to you good news of great joy that will
be for all the people. For today in the city of David a savior has been born
for you who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find
an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. And suddenly there
was a multitude of the heavenly host with the angel, praising God and saying,
‘Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace to those on whom his favor
rests.” Fear is cast out. Our unquenchable thirst for unending peace and joy is
promised to be satisfied.
If we take the risk to spend time alone in quiet prayer, we may discover we are not alone. St. Paul wrote: “The Spirit too helps us in our weakness, for we do not know how to pray as we ought; but the Spirit himself makes intercession for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in speech.” We may also gain confidence that all our trials are for our good. St. Paul continues: “We know that God makes all things work together for the good of those who love him who have been called according to his decree.” (Romans 8: 26, 28)
Great suffering and great love transform us. Both experiences bring us to our knees. They humble us. Certainly, the pains of life can embitter us, fill us with self-pity. However, if we sit patiently with our suffering, we can learn compassion and wisdom. It can open our hearts to the hardships of others and create bonds of intimacy. It can also arouse our deepest longings for peace, love, mercy, and joy. Eventually, it can awaken our faith to discover the infinite Source of our heart’s yearnings. We know we cannot tolerate suffering alone for very long. Amazingly, Jesus reveals that God suffers with us, every moment of our lives.
image generated by AI
Dr. Dennis Ortman is the author of Anger Anonymous, Anxiety Anonymous, Depression Anonymous, Being Catholic in Troubled Times, and Life, Liberty, and COVID-19.
For more posts by and about Dennis and his award-winning books, click HERE.
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