On compassion

Podcast

• Listen to this homily

Scripture references

• Isaiah 52:13-53:12
• Hebrews 4:14-16; 5:7-9
• John 18:1-19:42

Reflection

On Monday of this week, the world, even as the ground was still trembling beneath their feet, the world learned the shocking and devastating news of the earthquake that hit the region of L’Aquila, Italy.  As hours turned into days, news continued to flow out from that mountainous region North of Rome: news about subsequent aftershocks, news about tens and then hundreds who had perished, news about thousands who are injured and homeless.

The liturgy of Good Friday plunges us into the depth of suffering which is so much a part of life for so many of our brothers and sisters.  Try as we might, we cannot pretend that such suffering and misery doesn’t exist.  Perhaps for a moment, we can choose to distance ourselves from the reality of such pain, but eventually we must all come face to face with such questions as why those who give so freely are sometimes met with unexpected violence, or why the innocent among us so often have to suffer.

An article in this morning’s Globe and Mail claims that less and less people are familiar with the bible as a point of reference for wisdom to guide us, but we are well aware of the story of Jesus’ passion, suffering and death (Jn 18:1-19:42).  The prayerful tradition of our Church has taught us not only the biblical story of Jesus’ suffering, but also the devotion of the Stations of the Cross, yet it seems that every time we walk this road of suffering, there are new observations to be noted, and new lessons to be learned.

As he stood before Caiaphas (Jn 18:19-24) and then was led to Pontius Pilate (Jn 18:28-40), Jesus was surrounded by crowds of people, some of which had great influence in the political world of the time, yet no amount of power and influence in the world of politics or business can change the fact that when all is said and done, suffering must be endured in solitude.

Perhaps the most painful part of Jesus suffering came from the fact that even those who were considered among his closest friends denied even knowing him (Jn 18:15-18, 25-26).  Any source of earthly comfort or compassion that he might have hoped for was stripped away, and yet he accepted his fate as an act of love for us.

He carried the cross (Jn 19:17), the instrument of his own torture, alone, with only a passerby who had to be conscripted to help when his human strength was no longer able to carry the burden.  Are there moments in our lives when we, like Simon of Cyrene are compelled, despite ourselves, to help those who suffer?  Or are we more like Veronica who willingly wiped the blood and sweat from the face of the suffering Jesus?

Hearing the news of tragedies such as the earthquake in L’Aquila, perhaps we cannot do much from a distance to comfort those who suffer, but we can pray for those who have died, and those who are suffering.  In this way, we share their pain, but like Jesus, we accept this suffering because this is not the final chapter to the story.  Christ suffered in silence, abandoned by many but not alone.  In the same way, no one who suffers today does so alone.  Because He has experienced our suffering, Christ is able to comfort us, and to fill us with the hope that one day we too will rise with Him to the everlasting life which is to come.