Blog closed -- NEW WEB SITE!!!!

We now have our own Web site, with a blog incorporated into it. 

All of the posts from this blog have been transferred to the new site.

This blog will no longer be maintained or updated.

Please go to:

www.sacompassionNET.org

If I Could Change the World I Would . . .

How cool is this? Outside The Cove restaurant. If you could change the world you would . . . . . 

We are God's Hands

From Rabbi Bradley Shavit Artson:

As the wreckage of Oklahoma's tornado confronts us with our own vulnerability, let us affirm the Biblical wisdom that God is not in the wind or the storm, but in the countless responses of rescue, caring, and goodness. We are God's eyes: to witness, to cry, to see. We are God's hands: to salvage, to embrace, to redeem and rebuild. May God's persistent, resilient love be visible through our renewed efforts of prayer, voluntarism, and support for the victims of this eruption of nature's power.

Thomas Merton's Epiphany: "Overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all these people . . . "

The peaceCENTER's Ann Helmke and Susan Ives just returned from a week in Louisville, attending the International Summit on Compassionate Organizations, Louisville's annual Festival of Faith, including a talk by the Dalai Lama. Thomas Merton is Louisville's adopted son (he lived in the hermitage at Gethsemane, about 40 miles south)  and this marker commemorates his "epiphany." Merton wrote of this moment:

In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness, of spurious self-isolation in a special world, the world of renunciation and supposed holiness. The whole illusion of a separate holy existence is a dream. Not that I question the reality of my vocation, or of my monastic life: but the conception of “separation from the world” that we have in the monastery too easily presents itself as a complete illusion: the illusion that by making vows we become a different species of being, pseudo-angels, “spiritual men,” men of interior life, what have you.
Certainly these traditional values are very real, but their reality is not of an order outside everyday existence in a contingent world, nor does it entitle one to despise the secular: though “out of the world,” we are in the same world as everybody else, the world of the bomb, the world of race hatred, the world of technology, the world of mass media, big business, revolution, and all the rest. We take a different attitude to all these things, for we belong to God. Yet so does everybody else belong to God. We just happen to be conscious of it, and to make a profession out of this consciousness. But does that entitle us to consider ourselves different, or even better, than others? The whole idea is preposterous.
This sense of liberation from an illusory difference was such a relief and such a joy to me that I almost laughed out loud. And I suppose my happiness could have taken form in the words: “Thank God, thank God that I am like other men, that I am only a man among others.” To think that for sixteen or seventeen years I have been taking seriously this pure illusion that is implicit in so much of our monastic thinking.
It is a glorious destiny to be a member of the human race, though it is a race dedicated to many absurdities and one which makes many terrible mistakes: yet, with all that, God Himself gloried in becoming a member of the human race. A member of the human race! To think that such a commonplace realization should suddenly seem like news that one holds the winning ticket in a cosmic sweepstake.
I have the immense joy of being man, a member of a race in which God Himself became incarnate. As if the sorrows and stupidities of the human condition could overwhelm me, now that I realize what we all are. And if only everybody could realize this! But it cannot be explained. There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun.
This changes nothing in the sense and value of my solitude, for it is in fact the function of solitude to make one realize such things with a clarity that would be impossible to anyone completely immersed in the other cares, the other illusions, and all the automatisms of a tightly collective existence. My solitude, however, is not my own, for I see now how much it belongs to them — and that I have a responsibility for it in their regard, not just in my own. It is because I am one with them that I owe it to them to be alone, and when I am alone, they are not “they” but my own self. There are no strangers!
Then it was as if I suddenly saw the secret beauty of their hearts, the depths of their hearts where neither sin nor desire nor self-knowledge can reach, the core of their reality, the person that each one is in God’s eyes. If only they could all see themselves as they really are. If only we could see each other that way all the time. There would be no more war, no more hatred, no more cruelty, no more greed…I suppose the big problem would be that we would fall down and worship each other. But this cannot be seen, only believed and “understood” by a peculiar gift.

Compassionate Mother's Day

"Arise, then, women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts, 

Whether our baptism be of water or of tears!

Say firmly: “We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies, 

Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage, for caresses and applause. 

Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn 

All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience. 

We, the women of one country, 

will be too tender of those of another country 

To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs.” 

Continue reading this Mother's Day Proclamation by Julia Ward Howe 

and learn more about the history and original purpose of a 

Mother's Day for Peace: 

http://bit.ly/10BpjGx

compassionate people are also successful people

Already a compassionate city: the Katrina example

We're collecting examples of ways San Antonio is already a compassionate city. Here's one from 2005 that defines compassion:

In a better world, Phil Hardberger's decision might not have seemed extraordinary.
Four days after Hurricane Katrina swamped New Orleans and left hundreds of thousands of people struggling to escape, San Antonio's then-mayor announced on CNN that the city would open its arms and its pocketbook to anyone who needed help.
While other cities were closing their doors and nobody knew how San Antonio would fund the effort or absorb a growing mass of evacuees, Hardberger faced questions about logistics with answers from the heart.
“We want to give them back their dignity and put some stability in their life. And whatever we need to do, we're going to do,” Hardberger said. “We're going to go ahead and write whatever checks need to be written right now to take care of these people and let them know that people in San Antonio love them.”
It was a flash of humanity amid the ugliness and despair of the disaster. It also was a defining moment for Hardberger's administration, a decision that would capture national recognition, become a source of local pride and forever burnish the city's social and cultural landscape.

Read more: http://www.mysanantonio.com/news/local_news/article/After-Katrina-S-A-opened-its-heart-636223.php#ixzz2Sr78ErGM

Fable of the Forgiving Father

This version of the parable of the prodigal son was a great hit during the last session of  our book study of Karen Armstrong's "Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life."

Feeling foot-loose and frisky, a feather-brained fellow forced his fond father to fork over the farthings. He flew far to foreign fields and frittered his fortune, feasting fabulously with faithless friends.

Finally facing famine and fleeced by his fellows-in-folly, he found himself a feed flinger in a filthy farmyard. Fairly famishing, he fain would have filled his frame with foraged food from the fodder fragments. “Fooey, my father’s flunkies fare far fancier,” the frazzled fugitive fumed feverishly, frankly facing facts.

Frustrated by failure and filled with foreboding, he fled forthwith to his family. Falling at his father’s feet, he floundered forlornly, “Father, I have flunked and fruitlessly forfeited family favor. . . .” But the faithful father, forestalling further flinching, frantically flagged the flunkies to fetch forth the finest fatling and fixed a feast.

The fugitive’s faultfinding frater frowned on the fickle forgiveness of former folderol. His fury flashed—but fussing was futile. The far-sighted father figured, “Such filial fidelity is fine, but what forbids fervent festivity—for the fugitive is found! Unfurl the flags! With fanfares flaring, let fun and frolic freely flow. Former failure is forgotten, folly forsaken. Forgiveness forms the foundation for future fortitude.”

___________________
Adapted from Luke 15:11–32. Originally published in HIS magazine, October 1977, © InterVarsity Christian Fellowship. Author unknown.

Compassionate San Antonio: Community garden to feed the homeless

Another example of San Antonio being a Compassionate city!

Signing the Charter

Thanks to the Institute for Interfaith Dialogue at the Turkish Raindrop House for giving San Antonio CompassionNET time during their program of Compassion in the Holy Books to introduce the Charter for Compassion and give the participants the opportunity to sign the 3'x6' vinyl banner. We were especially excited to obtain the signature of Beytullah Solak, whose mother lives in Gaziantep, Turkey -- the first predominantly Muslim country to be recognized as a Compassionate City! Photograph by Chuck Gibbons.

I can never be what I ought to be . . .

During Step #11 -- Recognize the Other -- of our study of Karen Armstrong's "Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life" we wrote this quote on the board for reflection:

  “Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.  
I can never be what I ought to be  
until you are what you ought to be.   
This is the interrelated structure of reality.” 

Some asked for the reference: “Remaining Awake Through a Great Revolution, ” Commencement Address for Oberlin College By Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.,  June 1965, Oberlin Ohio
www.oberlin.edu/external/EOG/BlackHistoryMonth/MLK/CommAddress.html

We also added this quotation to add insight:

No matter how big a nation is, it is no stronger that its weakest people, and as long as you keep a person down, some part of you has to be down there to hold him down, so it means you cannot soar as you might otherwise. Marian Anderson

The Rabbi's Gift

We also told this story during our study of Step #11 -- Recognize the Other -- of Karen Armstrong's book, "Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life":

The Rabbi's Gift

 Once a great order, a decaying monastery had only five monks left. The order was dying. In the surrounding deep woods, there was a little hut that a Rabbi from a nearby town used from time to time. The monks always knew the Rabbi was home when they saw the smoke from his fire rise above the tree tops. As the Abbot agonized over the imminent death of his order, it occurred to him to ask the Rabbi if he could offer any advice that might save the monastery.


The Rabbi welcomed the Abbot at his hut. When the Abbot explained the reason for his visit, the Rabbi could only commiserate with him. “I know how it is,” he exclaimed. “The spirit has gone out of the people. It is the same in my town. Almost no one comes to the synagogue anymore.” So the Abbot and the Rabbi sat together discussing the Bible and their faiths. The time came when the Abbot had to leave. “It has been a wonderful visit,” said the Abbot, “but I have failed in my purpose. Is there nothing you can tell me to help save my dying order?” “The only thing I can tell you,” said the Rabbi, “is that the Messiah is among you.”
When the Abbot returned to the monastery, his fellow monks gathered around him and asked, “What did the Rabbi say?” “He couldn’t help,” the Abbot answered. “The only thing he did say, as I was leaving was that the Messiah is among us. Though I do not know what these words mean.”
In the months that followed, the monks pondered this and wondered whether there was any possible significance to the Rabbi’s words: The Messiah is among us? Could he possibly have meant that the Messiah is one of us monks here at the monastery? If that’s the case, which one of us is the Messiah? Do you suppose he meant the Abbot? Yes, if he meant anyone, he probably meant Father Abbot. Certainly he could not have meant Brother Elred! Elred gets crotchety at times. But come to think of it, even so, Elred is virtually always right. Maybe the rabbi did mean Brother Elred. Of course the Rabbi didn’t mean me. He couldn’t possibly have meant me. I’m just an ordinary person. Yet supposing he did? Suppose I am the Messiah?
As they contemplated in this manner, the monks began to treat each other with extraordinary respect on the off chance that one among them might be the Messiah and in turn, each monk began to treat himself with extraordinary respect.
It so happened that people still occasionally came to visit the beautiful forest and monastery. Without even being conscious of it, visitors began to sense a powerful spiritual aura. They were sensing the extraordinary respect that now filled the monastery. Hardly knowing why, people began to come to the monastery frequently to picnic, to play, and to pray. They began to bring their friends, and their friends brought their friends. Then it happened that some of the younger men who came to visit the monastery started to talk more and more with the older monks. After a while, one asked if he could join them. Then, another and another asked if they too could join the abbot and older monks. Within a few years, the monastery once again became a thriving order, a vibrant center of light and spirituality in the realm.

Crossing the River

We told this story at the conclusion of Step #11 -- Recognize the Other -- in our study of Karen Armstrong's book, "Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life":

Crossing the River

Two monks were on a pilgrimage. One day, they came to a deep river. At the edge of the river, a young woman sat weeping, because she was afraid to cross the river without help. She begged the two monks to help her. The younger monk turned his back. The members of their order were forbidden to touch a woman.

But the older monk picked up the woman without a word and carried her across the river. He put her down on the far side and continued his journey. The younger monk came after him, scolding him and berating him for breaking his vows. He went on this way for a long time.

Finally, at the end of the day the older monk turned to the younger one. “I only carried her across the river. You have been carrying her all day.”

Boundaries

We are nearing the end of our 12-week study of Karen Armstrong's book, "Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life." This coming Thursday we contemplate Step #11: the recognition that there is no "us" and no "them." I am reminded of this poem:

 

Boundary
By Adrienne Rich

What has happened here will do
To bite the living world in two,
Half for me and half for you.
Here at last I fix a line
Severing the world’s design
Too small to hold both yours and mine.
There’s enormity in a hair
Enough to lead men not to share
Narrow confines of a sphere
But put an ocean or a fence
Between two opposite intents.
A hair would span the difference.

Entertaining angels: Step #11

Marc Chagall

Hebrews 13:1-2

King James Version (KJV)

13 Let brotherly love continue.

² Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.

Happy Earth Day!

All of us have a God in us, 

and that God is the spirit that unites all life, 

everything that is on this planet. 

It must be this voice that is telling me to do something, 

and I am sure it's the same voice that is speaking to everybody on this planet - 

at least everybody who seems to be concerned about the fate of the world, 

the fate of this planet. 

- Wangari Maathai 

 Noble Peace prize winner, 

Deputy Minister of Environment, 

founder Green Belt movement in Kenya. 

Compassion Beads Video

Compassion -- Dignity -- Equanimity -- Forgiveness -- Gratitude

Humility -- Integrity -- Justice -- Kindness --  Love

We now have a video explaining how to make and use Compassion Beads. 

We've been asked whether we would be upset if people made their own beads rather than buying them from us -- of course not! However, if you are making them to give away we do ask that you credit  Dr. Doty for coming up with the mnemonic/mantra. 

The beads can be bought in our etsy store. Jen, our bead-stringer extraordinaire, can assemble kits if you want a bunch of them for a group handicrafts project. The e-mail contact is on the store's page to get a price quote for kits. 

Indifference

In our Thursday study of Karen Armstrong's"Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life" we discussed ways in which we react to injustice. One way is violence -- "fight." Another way is passivity -- "flight." The third way, of course is with nonvilent conflict engagement.

We struggled to define what was meant by passivity. Sometimes doing nothing is an appropriate nonviolent response: refusing to engage in a fruitless argument, for example. Here are some quotations that may help us understand better.

"Washing one's hands of the conflict between the powerful and the powerless means to side with the powerful, not to be neutral." Paulo Freire

"If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality."  Archbishop Desmond Tutu

"I swore never to be silent whenever and wherever human beings endure suffering and humiliation. We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented."  Elie Wiesel

"There may be times when we are powerless to prevent injustice, but there must never be a time when we fail to protest."  Elie Wiesel 

“Science may have found a cure for most evils; but it has found no remedy for the worst of them all -- the apathy of human beings.”  Helen Keller


“Christians have no business thinking that the good life consists mainly in not doing bad things. We have no business thinking that to do evil in this world you have to be a Bengal tiger, when, in fact, it is enough to be a tame tabby—a nice person but not a good one. In short, Pentecost makes it clear that nothing is so fatal to Christianity as indifference. ”   William Sloane Coffin Jr., Living The Truth In A World Of Illusions

 

World Refugee Day -- June 15 -- a Pilgrimage of Compassion Event

If you truly loved yourself . . .