Compassion

A proverb that floats around charity and non-profit circles goes like this: "Without passion, nothing happens. Without compassion, bad things happen." Sometimes I wish our civil leaders were more familiar with the phrase.

The news this week has offered us some valuable lessons in compassion—some amazing examples to emulate, and some inexplicably shameful actions from which we can all learn.

We have the gut-wrenching story from Lancaster County, PA, where a desperate and very ill man murdered five schoolgirls, and wounded five others, before committing suicide. Sadly, we have seen this movie before. We know how it goes. Next come the vengeful quotes from the understandably devastated families. Then the lawyers and media descend, trying to find the most marketable scapegoat. Politicians jump at the chance to exploit the families’ grief and rage. Later—much, much, later—we turn on the television to see the parents telling Oprah how they have pieced their lives back together. They can never forgive, they tell us, but they have to move on. We nod in agreement, marveling at their strength, still seething with vicarious anger.

But that is not what happened in Pennsylvania, because, as we all know, this was no ordinary schoolhouse. This man chose an Amish community for his attack, and if there can be a bright side to this awful episode, it is our opportunity to learn from the actions of a truly compassionate people.
Can you ever forgive? Most of us would require years of therapy just come to grips with question. Not in Lancaster County. The day after the shooting, the mother of one of the victims told a reporter she had already forgiven the gunman, saying “Christ forgave us. We must forgive each other.” The same afternoon, community leaders contacted the perpetrator’s family to offer their deepest empathy and support. This is their way. They preach humility and peace, and lead by example. Times of trouble serve to reinforce, not threaten, their faith.

I witnessed this incredible spirit when my wife lost her uncle Steve in a construction accident last year. Steve ran a fine carpentry business in central Michigan, and employed many of the local Amish men. Carpentry is a cultural tradition for the Amish, and their workmanship is nearly unequaled. During that long, terrible night in the hospital, and the funeral services later in the week, they were a constant presence. I was—and remain—truly in awe of their wisdom, strength, and moral leadership.

It seems our leaders in Washington would do well to learn from that example. When it was revealed that Congressman Mark Foley of Florida had been taking sexual advantage of underage pages, Congressional leadership reacted the same way any of us would—with disgust. Now, however, it appears Speaker of the House Dennis Hastert and others knew about this behavior months ago, and chose to do nothing. They chose to protect their political party instead of the minors entrusted to their care. The fear of political fallout and the pressure to win carried the day over the well-being of these young people. In short, our leaders demonstrated a tragic lack of compassion for those who needed their protection.

Should we judge Speaker Hastert’s entire career over this episode? No. Is he an evil man who wants to see children harmed? Not likely. But he and his leadership team made a colossal error in moral judgment, and should pay with their jobs.

Their error was in their fundamental lack of compassion. Just as a disturbed gunman in a schoolhouse, they lost the ability to feel empathy for the victims. We must follow the lead of the Pennsylvania Amish, and fill that compassion void. Protect future children from the risk of another cover-up by removing those responsible. Show God’s compassion by forgiving Speaker Hastert, the other senior leadership, and even Congressman Foley for their actions. Learn from these mistakes, move on together, and strive always to remember that virtue without which only bad things will happen–compassion.