Compassions that fail not

As I sat in class yesterday for "Religion and Health in the Hebrew Bible," a course I am a TA for, our professor brought up something interesting about compassion that I haven’t recently slowed down to think about until now, and that is compassion is not only taught, but it can also be unlearned and relearned. Of course, this is true for many of our understandings, but I hadn’t stopped to really examine my own understanding of compassion recently until yesterday. As a Christian educator, I began reflecting on what I have been taught about compassion, what I am teaching about it, and the impact that our understanding of compassion has on both those who show compassion and those who receive it.

What is compassion? Who gets to define it? And how does that definition translate into community?

If compassion is taught as simply a sympathetic, deep feeling of emotion toward someone or something, does that not reduce compassion to "feeling with no action?" This could become a form of "thoughts and prayers," where you express deep sympathy but never take action. It is then similar to the priest and the Levite in the Parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37)—they saw someone wounded, but they passed by, offering no real help, just a gesture of sympathy.

On the other hand, if compassion is taught as purely action, treating the wound but without emotional engagement, then compassion becomes “action without feeling.” You may help meet someone's needs, but without offering your presence or truly identifying with them, your neighbor remains a stranger. Compassion, then, becomes nothing more than the provision of resources. Consider this: In this age, are we offering people only resources, and not our very selves? If so, how empty is that compassion!

I think it’s time for a communal discussion about our understanding of compassion. We need to redefine, relearn, and relive compassion in a way that truly reflects God’s compassion, and not this worldly compassion that has a form of godliness, but denies the power thereof.

The Hebrew word רַחוּם (rakh-oom) for compassion, which is used to describe God’s compassion, and hence, real compassion, paints a picture of a mother caring for her vulnerable child. It conveys a deep emotional response, often translated as "deeply moved."

This insight reveals to me, at least, that compassion is not about feeling with no action, or simply action with no feeling. Compassion is when deep, intense emotion meets action and compels us to move toward others in love. In other words, compassion is when feeling and action become one—when care and action converge. In this sense, isn't compassion truly love in motion? For Love without motion is merely sympathy, and motion without love is mere duty.

This kind of compassion cannot be manufactured. First, we must receive it, and experience it for ourselves. Only then can we truly give it to others. The same is true for love: to love others, that is, to love one another as Jesus has loved us (John 13:34-35), we must first receive God’s love, grounded in what God has revealed and done for us.

If that’s the case, then perhaps we can only show true compassion to others in the way it has been shown and revealed to us. The starting point for showing compassion, then, is understanding and receiving God’s compassion. 

It is safe to say the disembodied, empty, form of compassion we see in the world today is just that, from/of the world and not from/of God. The compassion demonstrated by God and by Jesus Christ (as in Mark 8:1-8) is not the same as the compassion we often encounter today. It is a compassion that we need—compassion that goes beyond thoughts and prayers, beyond resources given without relationship.

It is the “go get sugar from your neighbor’s house to make Kool-Aid” kind of compassion. It is the “we are in this together, not just through FaceTime” kind of compassion. It is the “there were no needy persons among them” compassion, where believers shared with each other so that no one lacked (Acts 4:32-35).

Let’s reject the worldly, empty compassion that aligns with the powers and principalities we are called to resist (Ephesians 6:12). Instead, let’s receive and freely give God’s true, deep, and mobilizing compassion.

We need real compassion. Let’s redefine it, relearn it, and relive it, together.

I leave you with the words of the prophet Jeremiah: “It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not; they are new every morning” (Lamentations 3:22-23).

Prayer: Lord, may our compassions fail not, in Jesus’ name. Amen.