A high school class was reading King Lear, that selfish but well-meaning King of Denmark that trusted his daughters with his kingdom. The class was on Act III, Scene 4, where Lear and Edgar are outside their tent on the hill that overlooks Gloucester Castle, where a storm was raging. Lear has gone mad, but in his madness, he sees things. While trying to keep it together he comes out of his tent and says, “Poor, naked wretches that bide the pelting of this pitiless storm. Who shall house your heads, your unfed sides, from seasons such as these?”

The teacher opened the discussion and a young cheerleader raised her hand and said, “I think he is praying.” The rest of the class laughed. They thought she was an airhead, but the teacher continued the conversation. She told the teacher that she believed he is getting kinder. She saw a “kind lament” over the people he once ruled. He was vexed with a heavy heart.

The teacher recognized that both Lear and this girl melted into a message of hope and compassion. Both saw compassion as others caring for each other (as we see in Philippians), that we all need compassion when we are troubled or hopeless. God compassionately told the people, “The time of Israel’s punishment is complete.” When we are down, compassion picks us up. Compassion is the gift that lightens the burdens of our daily life. Compassion is the touch of a kind hand, or a kind word, to a broken heart. In our small community there are plenty of people to extend compassion to. It begins with a feeling of connection, a togetherness that uplifts us so we believe we are loved and have something to contribute.

Israel is coming to the end of their suffering, and we are too. It doesn’t mean it’s over it means we are transitioning to something different. It’s not like we don’t need compassion because the threat of the virus is low, we need to hold each other up in this time of change when God has decided to be kind to us. We need to build something new, and with comfort from others. It’s the only way to get through the months ahead. We need compassion that translates into patience and persistence; and a love for each other that gives permission and help to build a new life.

The Psalmist shows an experiential awareness of what it means to be loved and showered with compassion. Paul, in Philippians 2, is more instructional, providing clear direction on what it means. We are instructed to let other’s interests come before our own. In other words, compassion is a sacrificial tool that keeps the vision and action of Jesus alive.

For both the Psalmist and Paul, sin is the trouble. It keeps us from working together, being able to offer comfort and fulfilling our mission. Compassion is not just a pat on the back, it’s a complete embrace of the life of another. In this, we find what is in most of us: anxiety, sin, guilt and weakness. In times of trouble, when we are stretched and confused, we need compassion to establish a buoyancy that gets us through trying to get over the past. What we really need is someone who has gone through deep troubles but made the necessary changes under a showering of compassion that make us stronger.

Ecclesiastes is not a book about a life with little purpose, a work created to make a cynic instead of a person of faith. Ecclesiastes is a book about compassion. It reminds me of the compassion of Lear. He longs to feel compassion and laments the misery of others. The writer of Ecclesiastes sees the dismal state of Israel and says, “The toil that we perform is about envy, as well as production.” Our toil is not about hard work and despair, it’s about thinking well of what we are doing. We chase the wind if we don’t receive compassion from others, working hard with no purpose. We cannot live with working just to get things done. We need the feeling of joy about what is being done. Most of all, compassion provides us forgiveness.

God knows what we need, our sins forgiven and our work done with love and care. Those that just see hard work as a tool, with little joy, see the world as vain and empty. Ecclesiastes provides compassion, as it soothes the heart from its constant toil. Many believe that he gathers us to face our fate before God. The Great Preacher’s message isn’t about despair, it’s about what living beyond despair to catch the freshness of God’s compassion. Compassion picks us up as our pain and suffering turn to a hard-pressed reality, into a more real presence headed toward the future.

I love Van Gogh because he paints suffering into works of pleasure. I particularly like the Potato Eaters. An early work when he was a missionary. It’s colorless, drawn with pencil. It’s stark, yet he looked into their hearts and saw in them a masterpiece of God’s love. He looked through them, into the world, and was able to see a beauty he had missed for some time. This is compassion.