[published on September 18 2005 in "The Flatland Oracles" blog, my previous blog]
Getting angry at the sight of another’s pain is the most natural response in the world. Why are we being forced to see it? What’s the good of our seeing it? What do they expect us to do about it? Isn't it obvious that there is nothing we can do about it?
Unabashed grief strikes us as embarrassing and unseemly---e.g., the widow or mother who abandons herself to emotion and howls with pain at the graveside. Our first response is to distance ourselves because what can you do or say or feel yourself in the face of it?
Even Christ got fed up and impatient being followed around by people who wanted him to fix their problems. If you can heal the sick, everyone is going to expect you to be at it all the hours there are and when are you going to have a minute to yourself, to think, to pray, to teach? Like the poor, the sick, maimed, and miserable are always with us.
I was so angry with my mother after my dad died. She just sat. I was there with her and she just sat in the chair staring ahead in the blank way people in pain do, as if they are looking at a wall a few inches away that is between you and them. I wanted to break through it, so I yelled at her. I wanted her to remember me and to care about me. I remember how listlessly she glanced up at me; it was with the expression of a mortally injured animal---uncomprehending grief, pain, and terror. Her misery was something she couldn’t articulate or share. I was sad, but she was shattered.