Nov 17th: Extraordinary Empathy, with Becca Ellis.
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Extraordinary Empathy with Becca Ellis. Series: Ordinary People With Extraordinary Hearts A Spacious Christianity, First Presbyterian Church of Bend, Oregon. Scripture: Matthew 9; 1 Kings; Isaiah 46.
Join us this Sunday to hear a powerful message on finding hope and compassion in challenging times. We’ll be gathering online and in-person – come as you are and let’s explore how to care for ourselves and each other.
Transcript:
Whitney Higdon: Welcome to worship at First Presbyterian, we, at First Presbyterian practice a spacious Christianity, which means, no matter where you are in your faith journey, you belong and there is space for you at the table, there is space for your doubts and questions. We believe doubts and questions are a gift that invite us into deeper conversations and a more authentic faith. We believe diversity is a strength. Every story is sacred and everybody matters. We do our best to live the spacious and radical love of Jesus so that all might have a chance to flourish in this world. We are so glad to connect with you in this way. We would also love to worship with you in person if you’re ever in the neighborhood on Sunday mornings at 830 or 10am and never hesitate to reach out to us to learn more about us or how we might support You. I hope you enjoy this worship service. Welcome.
Narrator: I rest In you, O God, I am in your safe, keeping body and soul held in peace. My heart cries out to you, My God, all that upsets me, you see, all that disturbs me. You understand only here in your presence, am I fully known? I am wrapped in grace. I rest in you, O God, I am in your safe, keeping body and soul held in peace. I try to relax, but anger rattles me. I try to relax, but my feelings niggle at me, Be still, be silent. Put your trust in the Lord. I rest in you. O God, I am in your safe keeping body and soul held in peace in the stillness the light of your face shines, my heart turns to thankfulness and is glad I have more than enough You, Lord, are more than enough. I lie down to sleep, safe and sound. I rest in you, O God, I am in your safe keeping body and soul held in peace. Be still and rest you are held in peace. You Becca Ellis: I want to begin by asking you a question, What are you carrying right now? Maybe it’s the big things, what we collectively hold as humans living on this earth, or maybe there is enough just right in front of you, weighing you down, the diagnosis you just found out about a loved one who needs constant care and support. Your teenagers, crippling anxiety, a friendship dissolving, a recent divorce or breakup, maybe whether you’ll be able to keep the heat on or groceries on the table next week, whatever it is, we are all walking around carrying a lot, and we have been for some time to be human is to carry and to be carried. We begin our life literally being held, first in the womb and then carried in the arms of our caregivers, completely dependent on them. Slowly, we grow and gain independence in life, helped along the way, and somewhere in there we learn to help others. All. So there’s plenty of research out there about how Helping others is good for us and makes us feel good. We know we are wired to help. But what about when you feel so paralyzed by everything you have been holding the weight feels like too much, and there is simply nothing left to give. I recently came across the term compassion or empathy fatigue. This is a term used to describe a specific form of exhaustion experienced most often by professionals who support others going through stress and trauma, such as doctors and therapists. The ongoing stress of continual caring can lead to exhaustion negative emotions and loss of empathy when it comes to the medical field or those who are primary caregivers to high need individuals. Psychologist Heidi Alpine writes about how those experiencing this condition can become over empathic to the point that they grow numb to the suffering of their patient during the pandemic and its aftermath, articles came out highlighting how empathy fatigue also impacted employers who suddenly found themselves supporting staff going through the relentless stress of the times we were living through. And while I’m not a clinician, nor do I want to downplay the impact of true empathy fatigue on those who are tasked with the heroic work of supporting individuals going through very real trauma. This idea makes me pause and ask the question about what to do when our own empathy seems to run out, when we find ourselves numb, cut off, apathetic, and unable to put ourselves in the shoes of someone who might see and experience the world differently than we do over the past year, but especially in the past few weeks, I have seen so many hateful posts and comments online, othering people who think differently, even promoting cutting people out of your life just for asking questions that might challenge your own views. And I wonder, how will our world ever heal if we can’t even look each other in the eyes, and regardless of whether we agree with one another or not, still see our shared humanity? How can we heal if we aren’t able to see the belovedness of one another, how we are all created from the same source, each of us made in the very image of God. If there is anything we can learn from the life of Jesus, it is the empathic way he walked on this earth. And if there is one thing we need now more than ever, it is extraordinary empathy. Empathy is the act of truly considering what someone else is going through and feeling what they are feeling, it is different from sympathy and that it goes beyond just a feeling of concern for someone else. Rather, you find yourself really with them in whatever they are going through, and this act of true presence is a healing gift to others. It is what helps us get through. It makes me think of one of the names used for Jesus in the Scriptures, the Hebrew word Emmanuel, which means God with us. When you read the stories of Jesus life and ministry, you can clearly see how he lives up to this. He is right there with everyday people in the real messiness and grit of life. In the Gospel of Matthew, in chapter nine, we read how Jesus cares for the ill, blind, mute, those on the margins of society. And then in verse 36 as he looks out at a crowd of people, the author writes that Jesus was moved with compassion for them. The Greek word used for compassion here means a stirring of the inward parts. This wasn’t just a bit of sympathy Jesus felt. This was a deep swell from within, a compulsion to do something in response to the suffering of others. This old understanding of this deep compassion is similar to our modern day understanding of empathy. This also evokes the Hebrew word used in the Old Testament for mercy or compassion when describing God Rachamim, or racham which is closely related to and shares the same root as the Hebrew word for womb, rachem, suggesting a love like that of a mother, similar to the Greek word used in Matthew racham is a deeply emotional word. One such example is found in the book of First Kings, when King Solomon rules that two women quarreling over a child should just cut the child in half. When Solomon suggests this as the solution, the Scripture reads, then the woman whose child was the living one, spoke to the king, for she was deeply stirred or racham over her son, and said, O my Lord, give her the other woman, the living child, and by no means kill him. Here the word is capturing the deep compassion of a mother for the child of her womb. The same word is used to. Describe the compassion of God in other passages, and perhaps widens our perspective of the type of love that is our birthright, a deep, inward stirring in response to suffering like that of a mother for their child. And as a mother of three children myself, I can relate to that kind of womb compassion I understand, on a personal level, what that kind of love means. It is a fierce, tender doing everything. It takes love that does not stop it is the kind of love that stays up all night by your bedside. It is a mama bear, mother hen, protective, nurturing, enduring, unconditional type of love, a love a love that keeps watch and stays with you. It is the kind of love that does not grow tired. It reminds me of more Mother God imagery we see in the words of Isaiah, the Old Testament prophet, when he references the people he is addressing as those who have been born by God from before birth, carried from the womb, and telling them even until you’re old age and until you have gray hairs, I will carry you. I have made you, and I will bear you. I will carry and I will save. And that is the love that exists for all of us, and it is the love we can be conduits of in this world. Empathy is a practice. It is a skill that can be learned and strengthened the more we engage in it. It is the practice of seeing others, even if we don’t agree with them as people in need of compassion, and we are most able to show that compassion to others when we understand the compassion and love available to each of us. But then, of course, we must ask how. I mean, have you seen this world? What about when you see or hear about or experience first hand, the division, the violence, the wars, the hate, the children and women and men suffering and exploited. The floods and fires, the refugees, literally drowning in oceans and rivers, the list goes on and on and on, and then you add in the things in your own small world. How do we even keep up empathy, compassion, a fierce mother love that might all be good in theory. But what about the ways we are so very human, the limitations we bump up against every day. What about how sometimes there’s just nothing left to give? How do we keep leaning into and trying to believe in good at all? And how do we muster up the ability to be good in this world? Going back to this earlier idea of compassion or empathy fatigue. Physician Gabor Mate says that empathy fatigue isn’t real. Well, the physical description of what people experience is real, but people don’t lose the ability to care for others. He says the real problem is that we lack empathy for ourselves. Because if we cared enough for ourselves the way we are trying to care for those around us, we would have a boundary and not overextend ourselves to the point of complete exhaustion. We might ask for help. We might set something down. We might remember we need to be carried sometimes too. Remember even Jesus rested. There was always work to be done, always oppression and suffering in his midst. But he went away and found solitude. He went away to pray and meditate and lean on his closest people. Maybe this is how he was able to keep despair at bay. Maybe when we start to feel like we don’t care, can’t care instead of becoming cynical and apathetic or continue to push ourselves to a breaking point, we can take it as a sign that we need to receive care ourselves, and that is why community belonging, togetherness is so vital. We aren’t meant to do it alone. We are wired from birth to care for each other. Bell Hooks wrote, rarely, if ever, are any of us healed in isolation. Healing is an act of communion. To be human is to carry and to be carried. This is how we resist despair, to be there for one another, to show up with extraordinary empathy, to lean in and disrupt assumptions we make about others, to listen to each other’s stories, and when things feel too big to start small, like Anne Lamont writes, For the time being, I am not going to pretend To be spiritually more evolved than I am. I’m keeping things very simple. Right foot, left foot, right foot. Breathe, telling my stories and reading yours. I keep thinking about Barry Lopez’s wonderful line, everyone is held together with stories. That is all that is holding us together. Desire, stories and compassion. Author Brene Brown shared the following words last week on her Instagram. Despair is a claustrophobic feeling. It’s the emotion that says nothing will ever change. It’s different than anger or sadness or grief. Despair is twined with hopelessness. The research shows that hope is a powerful antidote to despair. What’s interesting, however, is that hope is not an emotion. Hope is a cognitive behavioral process. It’s about having a goal, a pathway to to achieve that goal, and a sense of agency, or I can do this. Renee continues saying, right now, the thing that is helping the most is micro dosing hope. I have no access to big hope right now, however, I am asking myself, how I can support the people around me, the people on my team, in my community, how can I make sure that I stay committed to courage, kindness and caring for others, regardless of the choices made by others, doing the smallest next right thing is hard, but sometimes it’s all we’ve got. And I love this idea of micro dosing hope. Big hope might feel like too much to reach for right now, but small doses of hope here and there. I think I can wrap my heart around that. I think maybe I can even be that for someone else. So start small. Where are the simple reminders of hope? You can find name them. When the world gets too loud, it’s okay to put down the phone, turn off the news, reconnect with your heartbeat, breath, the ground beneath your feet, nature, remember you are human. Remember we are all human. When apathy, hate, despair begin to creep in, we must interrupt it. We must ask for help. We must remember we all need to be carried sometimes, we must remember that the fierce womb, compassion, love of God is available to us, for us, yes, even for you, there is an entire world aching around us and every day, even just in small ways, We can offer healing to our corner of existence. Cleo Wade writes, one way to keep your heart together when the state of the world weighs heavy on it is to simply help somebody, even if it is just one person, when everything feels too big, start small, micro dose hope, practice extraordinary empathy for others, for yourself. Remember that fierce womb, compassion, love, that stirring from within that is available for us to receive and to be a conduit of in this world. I want to close with this blessing from Elizabeth lesser in her book, broken open, may you listen to the voice within, even when you are tired, when you feel yourself breaking down, may you break open instead? May every experience in life be a door that opens your heart, expands your understanding and leads you to freedom. If you are weary, may you be aroused by passion and purpose. If you are blameful and bitter, may you be sweetened by hope and humor. If you are frightened, may you be emboldened by a big consciousness far wiser than your fear. If you are lonely, may you find love, may you find friendship. If you are lost, may you understand that we are all lost and still we are guided by the vibrant voice within. May you follow that voice, for this is the way the hero’s journey, the life worth living, the reason we are here. The world is heartbreaking, but may it break us open to a greater compassion and extraordinary empathy as we go about our days. May you find the small reminders of hope around you. May you be a healing presence in this world. Amen.
Whitney Higdon: Thank you so much for joining us, and we hope you enjoyed this worship service. If you would like to make a donation helping make these podcasts possible or support the many ways, first, Presbyterian seeks to serve our community, you can make a financial gift online at bend fp.org, every week, we hear from someone thanking us for the gift of these broadcasts, and what a difference they make. Your support makes that possible. Our church is committed to reach beyond our walls, bringing hope where there is despair and love where it is needed the most. Your generous support helps us to be generous in love. Go to our website, bend fp.org, and click on the link. Give online. Your support is really appreciated and makes a difference in people’s lives. Thanks again. I hope to see you next week. You
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