I know I am not the only person avoiding the evening news these days. The sight of row upon row of bodies, some very small, is just too heartbreaking. The thought of poison gas is appalling. On this subject, I just read a talk by James Ford, who is both a Unitarian Minister and an important American Zen Master, that I found moving and thoughtful. Here is a quote I pulled out to keep in my mind:
Our issue, the real deal for us here in this community, is how to act in a sacred manner in this mess of relationships that are our lives.
I don't know what to do about war or the polarization of political parties in this country. I vote. I didn't expect my elected representatives to be involved in power plays and war games. I think a lot of us are disheartened by it, and more frightened by the violence unleashed in the world in these times.
But James' words lead me to recall my part in things, to practice the Three Pure Precepts of a Zen student. They are to avoid doing harm, to act in ways that are beneficial, and to help free all beings from suffering. I find that when I keep these in mind, I have plenty of work to do. To be truthful, the first one alone is very demanding. To avoid doing harm, as Joan Halifax has pointed out, means to avoid injuring -
oneself,
others,
animals,
plants,
the Earth,
the waters,
and
the air.
"Earth" - that's her capital letter. Make of it what you will.
It has been some years since I first heard the term "idiot compassion" used by Zen Teacher Joan Halifax. Her example was that you don't help a friend commit suicide; that might seem like compassion, but it's idiot compassion. After much thought, I'd have to say, "That depends." What if someone you love were wasting away in a painful terminal illness, and too ill to hasten her own exit without help, and asked you to help?
I think idiot compassion interested me because I grew up in an alcoholic household, my father the alcoholic, my mother the explainer.
"He didn't mean it." "He has a headache today."
The setup was that he chose me to be mean to, to delegate as the family scapegoat, as it is known in family systems theory. The scapegoat is the one cast as the only problem in the family: If it wasn't for Jeanne, this would be a happy family. She ruins everything.
My mother's interpretation was that he was "strict" with me, which she said in a wondering way. No, this was not true. He was not at all strict with anyone, including himself, not setting clear rules and enforcing boundaries as a father should. He lashed out at me and demeaned me whenever he noticed me. My mother did this too; when she was ruminating on her simmering anger at him, she would insult me or kick at me. Really. That sweet Sunday school teacher.
I think that however much he disappointed and angered her, she loved her role as "the martyr, always the virgin," as my father put it. Her role was to be kind and protective of her Man. If he had treated her son that way, it would have been a different story, but I was just a girl.
If I complained to my mother about something brutal he said to me, she might say, "His back has been bothering him," her voice assuming a rounded, sacred tone. She was speaking as a ministering angel. She loved that role. When I was sixteen, I did my best to commit suicide.
Here's the thing: it does not matter what motivates someone to harm others - the harm is done. We might need to help that person or lock them up. But to excuse out-of-bounds behavior, to explain it away and let them do it again, that's idiot compassion. You're not helping them, you're not helping the victim, whether that victim is your child or yourself.
It's not uncommon for women to excuse away bad behavior, and not just with their partners. I've watched with some disbelief how people accept and excuse rude behavior from a woman in my (former) social circle because, oh, she's worried about [fill in the blank]. My response to that is my favorite line from the movies: I don't care what she's worried about - she's hurtful. And I don't like to be hurt.
In case you haven't seen "The Fugitive," Tommy Lee Jones is a federal marshal chasing an escaped murderer played by Harrison Ford. In the confrontation above, Ford is trapped in a huge sewer pipe. He turns and tells Jones he is innocent. Jones' response is, I don't care! Because it's not his job to judge innocence. His job is to bring the guy in. And all you men and women who are putting up with partners who are mean to you and your kids, that's not your job, either. That's not what compassion does.
