Violence and compassion

I know a woman and her husband who with a small push sent me spinning off on a huge adventure.

I am most certainly not a Comparative Religions scholar, but it seems pretty much all the major religions have a number of themes in common. One of them being an idea that one should treat All Others with kindness and respect and as equals, which sounds like a wonderful idea but quickly gets sticky.
[Insert name of Respected Religious Figure]: Treat all humans with kindness and respect.
Us Regular Folk: Right on, Respected Religious Figure! Love our fellow humans. Except for that group of Others over there.
[Insert name of Respected Religious Figure]: Treat all humans with kindness and respect.
Us: Oh….right, of course. All humans…..but surely not that other group of Others, right? I mean look at what they believe in!
[Insert name of Respected Religious Figure]: All humans.
Us: All humans? Huh…..got it “all humans”……..by which you cannot mean that horrible person who has done the thing that is so horrible.
[Insert name of Respected Religious Figure]: (Looks at us knowingly)
Us: Oh, come on, Respected Religious Figure!!!
This is probably one of the reasons these folks are Respected Religious Figure and we are just Us.

Darkness cannot drive out darkness. Only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate. Only love can do that.

During the last few months the crazy whirling stream that I swim in has taken a strange course in that I have been exposed to more violence in this time then I am normally exposed to across 2-3 years. I have not been the target of any of this violence but I have had a seat close enough to the front that offered a frightening and challenging view of the action. While keenly aware of the human suffering, I have witnessed a number of opportunities within myself (because it is all about me) to face my own demons around violence. Among the many opportunities have been questions about my attempts to bring less judgement and more compassion to the people in my life and the people I stumble upon as I try to be more present. I want to share what’s been bouncing around inside my head from two of these violent events.

Recently I was again involved in trying to help someone I care for deeply navigate growing emotional, verbal and physical abuse by her son. While doing so I was aware of the powerful pull to judge all involved and push for what I “knew” was the “answer.” I wanted to scream, “Kick that immature shit out of your house, end this pattern, force him to be responsible for his behavior, protect yourself and the rest of your children!” But I didn’t. It was so easy to judge him, to judge her, and I knew that would be an epic fail. Those were the things I needed to say to quiet my own fears about the impact her chaos might have on my life. Those were not things that would have in anyway helped her or her family. She knows kicking him out is the option everyone wants her to do, including me. Hearing it does nothing to bring compassion to her suffering, does nothing to listen to her fear.

As I sat with this, deleting yet another text message I was preparing to send her because it was about me, not about hearing her, I tried to listen for what she was afraid of. I heard that she was afraid her son would die; alcohol/drugs, gang violence, encounters with the police gone wrong, or that he would hurt or kill someone else. Perhaps if she could keep him at home, no matter how abusive he became, he would be safe. She was struggling to be a good mother in the out-of-control chaos of white water rapids that is her world. Why should she be judged for that, other than it is easy for me to do so?

And him? Immature, fucking shit who deserves to have his ass kicked and kicked to the curb, how do I feel about him? I know this young man. I know that life has kicked him in the kidneys, and then stomped on him when he fell to the ground. He is filled with rage, and helplessness, and fear from his history. He is lashing out at the wrong targets because there are no right targets. When I set aside my seeing him as a problem that I wish would go away, I saw his suffering and, instead of disgust and anger, I felt compassion and I understood. I wished I could reject him out of hand with self-righteous anger, but I found I couldn’t. I wanted to just feel pissed off at him and his immaturity, but I didn’t have it anymore. All I had was compassion, which in all honesty kind of pissed me off because anger felt more satisfying, even if compassion felt more real. Now to be clear, I still think she should throw him out, and I feel deep compassion for the suffering of both. I blame this as a side effect of daily random acts of kindness. So if you try anything like that, be forewarned.

What about the second incident? On the Fourth of July, I went to a baseball game with some friends, had a couple hot dogs and beer (what could be more American?), my fiends and I walked from the stadium to the National Mall to catch some of the Folk Life Festival (I think the country highlighted this year was Peru), saw the pre-fireworks preparation in front of the Capital Building, and then went our separate ways. The Metro subway train to take me home was delayed (not a big surprise) and when the train did come, the going was slow. Final the train operator apologized for the delay, saying there was “police activity” at one of the stops ahead of us, so the trains were single tracking. We finally pulled into the station in question, the train on the other line was stopped, there were paramedics, lots of police, miles of police tape marking off a single car and all the space around it, something “Very Bad” had happened, and had happened not long before we arrived. By the time I made it home it was reported that a shockingly brutal murder had occurred on that train car, a petty theft that turned into the assailant stabbing the victim more than 40 times and then severely beating the victim, in broad daylight, on one of the safest metro lines, in a car with numerous others in it on their way to Fourth of July festivities. Absolutely horrifying.

The next day they arrested the assailant. This won’t be a subtle or nuanced murder trial with twists and turns in which CSI solves the case. There is video surveillance footage, DNA evidence, oh, and let’s not forget about those 20 or so severely traumatized eyewitnesses. I hope he goes to jail forever, in part because of the nature of the crime, and, in all honesty, because his actions toppled my views of how the world is supposed to be, seeing the crime scene forced me to acknowledge a world I do not want to acknowledge, the whole event scares the shit out of me. How do we bring compassion to something so horrendous and brutal, something so nightmarish?

I don’t know. I have been trying to step back from my fear and disgust, and somehow get some perspective. The mug shot that ran in the papers and news showed the standard defiant, angry Non-Human Monster we always see. And we know this is not who will show up for the trial. That young man will have a different look and be dressed in a suit. Evidence will emerge about his childhood, his neighborhood, the genuine struggles with poverty and violence. Maybe he will have a history of mental illness that fell through the gaps in a poorly sewn safety net. There will be reasons. Of course, just like I am not a scholar in Comparative Religion, I am also not a scholar in Sociology & Media. However, I offer this; it seems fundamentally human that we quickly want to capture and castigate the Villain so we know our world is safe in no uncertain terms (See the Captured Monster that is so not One of Us). Later when we find out the Captured Monster is One of Us, we need to find out why this horrible violent crime happened, we need an explanation, an explanation that also allows us to feel our world is safe (See the Human who was Understandably Deeply Damaged). I think that understanding helps us to sleep at night without the fear that a member of our pack might turn rabid in the night and do horrible things.

I don’t know. Maybe somewhere in this likely turn of events there is the smallest space to begin to find compassion for this young man. Maybe not. I still want him to be locked up forever because of this brutal crime, and I hope that there will be people in his life over the next 40-50 years who can be compassionate for his suffering. I hope that my sense of a need for justice can also be tempered with my desire to find a way to bring compassion to all. I think finding that is important for the path I am wobbling along, important for my soul. Perhaps there is a Respected Religious Figure or two who also thinks this is a good idea. Maybe.