Sunday, November 18, 2012

 

Sunday Reflection: Snatching the pain of another


This past Tuesday, I went over to St. Paul to hear my colleague and hero-of-thinking Susan Stabile speak about her wonderful new book, Growing in Love and Wisdom. Susan is a captivating speaker, and she is from New York, so the whole thing is a physical exercise as she paces, gestures, leans on the podium, then ranges into the audience. At the end though, that all stopped. She had us close our eyes and do a meditation exercise that linked together many of the strands of her life's theologies-- one that required empathy for a person in pain.

It was a deep and challenging experience.

As I drove home, I remembered a long-ago moment that I have never fully understood.

When I was in college, I took a class from Prof. Joanne Braxton, who at that time was finishing up her Ph.D. at Yale. (She made Yale seem very cool-- her example was one reason I ended up there myself). Part of her work had taken her to Haiti, and she occassionally (though not often) talked about her experience there.

One day in class, one of my fellow students had a headache and was in obvious pain. Prof. Braxton paused and told us about something she had seen in Haiti: The "snatching" of a pain like that. She explained that the snatcher would cover the forehead of the subject with their hand, rest and feel the warmth of that person, and then make a snatching motion. If done successfully, the subject was free of the headache-- but the snatcher would now have it. It struck me, if nothing else, as a wonderful model of empathy in that it involved not "fixing" someone's pain or erasing it, but literally taking it on, as an act of self-sacrifice. Christ, of course, did this very literally.

Many years later, I found myself with a group of people on the roof deck of a bar near Wrigleyville. (Not this one, but in the same area). It was very late, and there was a small group of us around a table in the Chicago summer.

We were talking about headaches, and I told the story of what I had heard in Prof. Braxton's class. One woman I did not know, who was about 31 or 32, turned to me and claimed she had a headache and dared me to snatch it. So, I did. I put my hand flat on her forehead for a moment, feeling the warmth of her, resting her hair in my other hand, and then... snatch!

It floored me.

I didn't get a headache. Instead, what I got was a deep and profound sadness that was totally alien to me, like a dark cloud that filled me up. It was specific sadness, too-- the regret that I didn't have a child, and might not ever have one. Certainly, this was not my cloud of dread (I was 23 or 24 at the time). It wasn't a guy thing... it was entirely hers. It was with me for weeks; I couldn't shake it.

Genuine empathy, I think, is that difficult. It more than just listening; at its best, it is carrying the dark cloud of another within ourselves and working to dispel it through love.

Comments:
Wow. "Greater things in heaven and earth," you know?
 
lovely words this morning
 
Wow indeed. Thank you. And thanks to Susan Stabile.
 
Powerful stuff, Mark. I believe in intercessory prayer ... but only rarely have I seen it in real-time action. Yes, yes ... I know: "faith is the belief in the unseen...". Mary is very empathic. She feels someone else's pain. I don't have that gift. It frightens me a little. To take someone else's pain -- or depression -- is a supreme sacrifice. And a worthy theme for a bright Sunday morning.
Bob
 
“. . . it was entirely hers. It was with me for weeks; I couldn't shake it.

Genuine empathy, I think, is that difficult. Its more than just listening; at its best, it is carrying the dark cloud of another within ourselves and working to dispel it through love.”

Celebrated, blessed moments of sharing – sharing “dark cloud” experiences with the “working(s) to dispel it (them) through love.”

Throughout life, the blessings of sharing often benefit the most and not necessarily sharing any gift or talent we may possess. Our greatest blessings often come from sharing a moment with another person. Everything we say to another, do for another or accomplish on behalf of another is initiated by our willingness to share a moment in time. When our Spirit allows another person to feel comfortable in our presence, so many wonderful experiences are possible – silence can be enjoyed, listening can be rewarded, words can be appreciated, a message can be heard, tasks can be accomplished, relationships can be reinforced or mended, events can be defining, love can be made, the possibilities are endless. It starts with sharing a moment, sharing a moment together; nothing has value unless it is shared.

“. . . it was entirely hers,” entirely his, entirely ours – our journey together, blessed with shared empathy – graced in His unconditional love. . .
 
I understand that empathy becomes a carrying of the pain of another....I would be curious if the one whose pain is snatched feels a corresponding relief from it.

In other words, is the pain just doubled, or transferred? Did the woman in the Wrigley bar no longer fret over her potential for child bearing?
 
Good question! She said she felt something, but wouldn't explain it. I didn't see her again, so I don't know. I would imagine not, though....
 
The "pain" being lessened when shared, no matter how - or how much - is transferred is a thought most comforting. . .
 
Mark Osler, please write your old professor (and now professor and interfaith campus chaplain) Rev. Dr. Joanne M. Braxton, jmbrax@wm.edu to continue the conversation.

Blessings,
Joanne
 
Jmbrax@wm.edu
 
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