Tag Archives: compassion

A Just World

I am having deja vu. Before last term, we had not had a student death related to a car accident in over 10 years. Yet once again, another student died in a car accident earlier this week. Like the student last term, this student was very involved and visible in the community, was known for helping others, and was on the verge of graduating with a bright future ahead of her.

We tell students that there is no right or wrong way to grieve. But some coping mechanisms are more hurtful than others. For example, it’s harmful when, in order to protect ourselves from the idea that it could happen to us, we blame the other person for their misfortune. She was probably driving too fast. People shouldn’t drink and drive. Stupid people die. 

When I was a graduate student, one of my favorite theories was the Just World Hypothesis. Because we want to believe in a just world, when something bad happens we assume that the person must have done something to deserve it. Bad things happening to good people is just too much to bear.

I often hear just world explanations after a sexual assault. She was making out with him on the dance floor. She went back to his room. She didn’t fight it so she must have wanted it.  

The Just World Hypothesis is closely related to the problems with free will and blame. In order to preserve the belief that we control our destiny, we are willing to take responsibility for things that we don’t actually have control over.  We’re willing to believe, for example, that if only I had done something differently, this tragedy wouldn’t have happened. Even if there’s nothing we could have done.

I can understand the need to believe that if you make the right choices you will be safe from harm. I want to believe this, too. Usually my attempts at control manifest themselves in perfectionism and excessive guilt, however.

I don’t know how much blame a person should be held responsible for. I don’t know how to make sense of all of the suffering in the world. But I know that the more I blame someone, the less compassion I have for them. And when I blame myself, I have less self-compassion, too.

So I try to approach suffering in the same way I try to accept my feelings: it doesn’t have to make sense. I don’t have to know the reason why suffering exists. And I try to have faith that when something bad happens, I will be strong enough to handle it.

Good Intentions

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You know that expression “the road to hell is paved with good intentions?” It’s probably slightly overstated, but I think it’s essentially true.

First of all, it’s not often that we have the intention of hurting other people. And when we do, we know we’re being bad. That’s why in an argument you want to think long and hard before you say something cruel. Because it’s not going to work to say I didn’t mean that afterwards. You can’t take it back. Whether you meant it or not, your intentions weren’t good.

In my experience, most of the time when someone uses the good intentions excuse, they were just as concerned–if not more concerned–with seeming helpful. That’s why they get defensive rather than apologize.

I am no exception to this. Especially since I’ve dedicated my life to helping others. So you better feel helped, gosh darn it! And you better appreciate my help!

The other reason people say well-intended but unhelpful things is because they want you to stop hurting, but they don’t know how to make that happen. So they tell you to stop in ways that are sometimes downright hurtful.

Some of my personal favorites are I’m suffering more than you, in response to my first divorce. And well, at least you have 3 other kids, in response to my brother’s coma and possible death that could have resulted from falling out of the car when he was 5.

Some clients are aware of how offensive good intentions can be, so they ask for advice about what to say. I tell them to ask the person directly what they can do. Maybe the person won’t know in that moment, but they know they can ask you for help when they need it. And they’ll know that you care that they’re in pain.

The other thing I tell them is to listen carefully to what the person has to say. This isn’t easy, because most of us aren’t very good at bearing witness to other people’s pain. So you have to practice by being a good listener to yourself. Give yourself permission to acknowledge your seemingly irrational thoughts and unpleasant feelings.

You know all those unhelpful things you say to yourself to try to feel better? You have to replace them with accepting, nonjudmental statements about how it’s OK that you’re upset. That it doesn’t have to make sense. That you don’t have to know the reason why. And that you will be by your side for as long as it takes until you start to feel better.

When we can be good to ourselves in this way, we will have more to offer than just good intentions.

God’s Will

It feels incomplete to talk about blame and free will without also talking about God’s will. This one is the scariest of the 3 to write about, but I’m committed to being honest, so I’m making myself do it.

When I was in high school, my best friend’s father died of a heart attack in his early 40’s. During the funeral, his best friend broke down crying while giving the eulogy. My friend’s mom calmly took his place, saying that she believed her husband’s death was God’s will so she was at peace with it.

That really bothered me. I was glad that it gave her comfort, but I could not fathom how God could want someone to die. If deaths are God’s will, how can it be a sin to commit suicide? Or murder, for that matter. Or acts of terrorism. All of these deaths would just be a part of God’s plan; these people were simply fulfilling their roles. In fact, sin wouldn’t even be possible.

There is someone in our tennis community who is reaching the end of her battle with cancer. Although I did not know her well, I was struck by how positive and kind she was when I met her last year. She was in the midst of chemo at the time, and she was my opponent on the court. And she kicked my ass. Which was both impressive and upsetting, given my competitive nature.

I have been praying for her and her family, but I struggle with what to ask God for if death is, in fact, part of God’s plan for her. I know some people don’t believe in God for this reason. Or if God exists, they don’t want to worship a God who would allow people to suffer. I wouldn’t go that far. It is clear from the life of Christ and the teachings of Buddha, and probably most religions, that no one is immune to suffering.

I accept that, but it’s still hard to tolerate. I try to imagine what it would be like to be her or her loved ones, but I can’t. My brain won’t let me go there. It’s too painful. Too much to bear. I can’t envision surviving a loss like that, even though I know that somehow I would if I had to.

I do my usual prayer. Because we’re allowed to ask, even if we don’t always get what we want. God, if at all possible, please let her have a miraculous recovery. And then I say a more realistic prayer. Please minimize their suffering to the extent possible.  Please surround them with love, to mitigate the pain. 

I am no theologian, but based on the story of Adam and Eve, one thing is for certain: God wants us to have free will. We, too, have the power to say no. We can choose not to follow God’s plan. We can choose not to love God, or not to love at all.

In the midst of tragedies, the people involved always say that they are humbled by the outpouring of love and support from people they don’t even know. That it does mitigate the pain. So I will continue to pray for this member of the tennis community and her family. If love can ease their pain, then I will choose love.