I’ve decided that one of the worst words in the English language is this: pity. It’s a sick, twisted word that was forged in the very fires of Hell itself. Actually, that might be a little severe. The point with less hyperbole is this: I don’t much care for it.
Do you know what the problem with pity is? The problem is that it makes the one who pities feel superior, and leaves the one pitied feeling even worse then before the pitier (not a word, don’t care) came waltzing up to do some pitying. In other words, it’s not only useless, it’s detrimental.
Since points are really best backed up with examples, I’ve provided a few below.
Example 1: Feeding the poor with pity.
It sounds something like this: “Oh you poor, huddled masses. I look down upon you from the heights of my ivory tower, from the warmth of my hearth, and my heart moves for you. Oh, you sad, almost human dirt monkeys, how I yearn to provide to you some small sliver of the contentment that I surround myself with daily. I know that I don’t have to, that all that I have was gained by my brilliance in business. And your lack, your wretched state of being, is a direct result of your stupidity, ineptitude, and sloth. Yet even so, I shall provide to you out of my bounty, out of all that I have earned. I bequeath unto thee this… can of refried beans.”
Example 2: Feeding the poor with sympathy.
It sounds something like this: “I can see that you’re hungry. I’ve been hungry before myself. I don’t have much, but I’ll share with you what I have.”
Example 3: Feeding the poor with empathy.
It sounds something like this: “I can see that you’re hungry. I can’t imagine what that must be like, but it isn’t right that a fellow human should suffer like that. Not when I can help. I don’t know why I have what I need and you don’t, but I’ll share with you what I have.”
Okay, so I made the last two sound a bit like saints and the first one sound like a megalomaniac, but that’s what you sound like when you give food, money, or time out of pity rather than sympathy, empathy, or just plain human kindness. I remember a Thanksgiving years ago where we didn’t have enough money to buy a Thanksgiving meal. My Dad just lost his job, we moved to a new town so my Mom could be closer to her job, and we were toeing the line of being able to pay the endless parade of bills. So our church provided us with a Thanksgiving meal. Just the year before we were helping prepare those meals, the meals for the poor people in our congregation, God bless the little dirt monkeys. And then, just like that, I was poor, was one of them. The sensation was surprisingly similar to a swift kick in the groin: entirely unpleasant.
What made it hurt was pride, my pride at having felt superior to the poor. My pride saying that even as I teenager I should be able to do something, anything, to keep us off that list of poor, needy people. My pride at an imaginary line between “us” and “them.” That’s why I detest pity, why I cringe when I see well meaning people talking about the poor, needy, and downtrodden as if they were discussing a hurt animal. It’s because pity is just pride gussied up as something noble. Pity isn’t noble. It’s looking down on someone else and saying, ever so quietly, that you feel bad because they’re just not as good as you.
End sermon.
Do you know what the problem with pity is? The problem is that it makes the one who pities feel superior, and leaves the one pitied feeling even worse then before the pitier (not a word, don’t care) came waltzing up to do some pitying. In other words, it’s not only useless, it’s detrimental.
Since points are really best backed up with examples, I’ve provided a few below.
Example 1: Feeding the poor with pity.
It sounds something like this: “Oh you poor, huddled masses. I look down upon you from the heights of my ivory tower, from the warmth of my hearth, and my heart moves for you. Oh, you sad, almost human dirt monkeys, how I yearn to provide to you some small sliver of the contentment that I surround myself with daily. I know that I don’t have to, that all that I have was gained by my brilliance in business. And your lack, your wretched state of being, is a direct result of your stupidity, ineptitude, and sloth. Yet even so, I shall provide to you out of my bounty, out of all that I have earned. I bequeath unto thee this… can of refried beans.”
Example 2: Feeding the poor with sympathy.
It sounds something like this: “I can see that you’re hungry. I’ve been hungry before myself. I don’t have much, but I’ll share with you what I have.”
Example 3: Feeding the poor with empathy.
It sounds something like this: “I can see that you’re hungry. I can’t imagine what that must be like, but it isn’t right that a fellow human should suffer like that. Not when I can help. I don’t know why I have what I need and you don’t, but I’ll share with you what I have.”
Okay, so I made the last two sound a bit like saints and the first one sound like a megalomaniac, but that’s what you sound like when you give food, money, or time out of pity rather than sympathy, empathy, or just plain human kindness. I remember a Thanksgiving years ago where we didn’t have enough money to buy a Thanksgiving meal. My Dad just lost his job, we moved to a new town so my Mom could be closer to her job, and we were toeing the line of being able to pay the endless parade of bills. So our church provided us with a Thanksgiving meal. Just the year before we were helping prepare those meals, the meals for the poor people in our congregation, God bless the little dirt monkeys. And then, just like that, I was poor, was one of them. The sensation was surprisingly similar to a swift kick in the groin: entirely unpleasant.
What made it hurt was pride, my pride at having felt superior to the poor. My pride saying that even as I teenager I should be able to do something, anything, to keep us off that list of poor, needy people. My pride at an imaginary line between “us” and “them.” That’s why I detest pity, why I cringe when I see well meaning people talking about the poor, needy, and downtrodden as if they were discussing a hurt animal. It’s because pity is just pride gussied up as something noble. Pity isn’t noble. It’s looking down on someone else and saying, ever so quietly, that you feel bad because they’re just not as good as you.
End sermon.
Comments
so many things:
First, If I was visiting my parents who happen to live somewhat near,I would give you a hug and tell you that I wish I could take all the pain of that time away...
Second, I've been there myself (scroll down a few posts and I'm ranting about my sociology teacher and how his "lessons" make me feel like a welfare child.) In fact TOys for tots came to my house twice this year for my own children... imagine what parents feel like when they can't provide.
Third, Jesus had pity. Yes,you read that right. He had pity on the mulititude of people sitting in the hot sun with no food. Which means, there is a time for pity. And yes being the recipient is painful and humbling. But you know, Tom, NOW YOU KNOW what it feels like and now you know when it is your turn to have pity, you know how to do it... you know that love has to be the main ingredient.
Man,I can tell you how humiliating it is to have family from out of town visiting and people from the food panty dropping off huge boxes of food... it's really embarrassing...but those people were so happy... it made them so happy to be able to help us...and I guess from that point of view, it made me happy that I could be the reason for that happiness. IT wasn't wasted on someone who won't change.
That's probably the best thing I've read all week. If I had to describe selfless love, I'd quote it as an example.
As for Jesus pitying the poor, this is going to sound like splitting hairs, but my translation says he had compassion for them. There's a condescention to pity that I can't reconcile to the Savior of Mankind. But, like I said, that's really splitting hairs.
What's really important there is what you said, that charity must always be mixed with love otherwise it becomes a curse and a punishment rather than a blessing.
Thus further proving my theory that the world is complicated.
Thanks for the indepth and personal response. And thanks for showing grace through adversity. That's kind of a weird thing to thank someone for, but it's rare enough that I figure it warrants thanking of some sort.
If you're ever really bored, drop by my blog and post from today. I'd like to hear your opinion on the faith and reality thing. :)