a holy lent--humility and empathy
Jesus is the one who has broken down the walls of hostility between humans. I must be oh, so careful not to build them back, through unkind thoughts or broken systems. So, this week I long for HUMILITY and EMPATHY.
I’ve put these two words together because both require me to listen more and not to make snap judgements based on labels. I hear words like “conservative” or “liberal”, and I immediately assume that I know what they mean. But what if I resist my natural inclination to pull away from the labels I dislike, and instead let myself be drawn in to know more, to find out what that label means to the one assigning it to herself?
Humility is a good starting point. Abjectly conscious of my own sin, but free from its stranglehold because I know the Savior who has set me free, I know that I cannot muster up my own holiness. God’s mercy is a free gift available to all. I can horde it and become proud of my own righteousness, or I can hold it out to others. Pride may be the worst of the seven deadly sins, because it disguises itself as righteous indignation. Humility breeds empathy. As I am honest about my own selfishness and shortcomings, I am given empathy to deal with others.
Years ago, I attended a silent retreat in Santa Barbara. I had gone weary and a bit tired of people. The Episcopal nun who was the spiritual directress had just returned from a conference for adult children of alcoholics. She had found the event life-changing, and each of her guided meditations reflected what she had learned. Growing up with parents who never missed a cocktail hour, I found her offerings personally helpful, but I had to wonder if the other attendees were finding them meaningful at all. Because it was a silent retreat, there wasn’t any opportunity to ask them. But at the closure ceremony we sat in a large circle, and each woman shared what the weekend had meant to her. Every woman talked about an alcoholic parent, sibling, child or spouse that was affecting her life. Every single one! I felt like God was filling me with an understanding that there is no such thing as a functional family. We’re all dealing with our own brokenness in ourselves and in our families. I drove back from Santa Barbara, and suddenly, instead of seeing too much traffic and lines of people everywhere, I was struck with how many people there were to love.
It was more than mere insight. It was a change of heart. It was a gift of empathy. And it required silence and the humility to submit to what seemed irrelevant to find that in God’s hands it was pervasively profound. Even twenty-five years later, I can sense when my empathy meter is running low. I go back to confession, to humility, to the knowledge that I never see God’s whole picture and that judgement of a fellow human being is perilous.
I long to listen better, judge less and love more.
Love, Liz
“At your highest moment, be careful, because that’s when the devil comes for you.” Denzel Washington
“Wise people are aware of their foolishness. When you realize ‘I’ve been a fool’ you’re barreling down the road toward wisdom.” Rev. Tim Keller
