The day dad picked up the ‘boogie man’

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My dad taught me compassion. I remember one day particularly. We had an old man in our neighborhood. He had Parkinson’s disease. His hands shook. I am afraid to say we kids laughed at him and made fun of him.

We would, after school, throw rocks on his tin roof until he would come out and yell at us. He was the boogie man of the neighborhood and we were all scared of this strange man. One day on the way to church my dad saw him alongside of the road. To my horror he stopped the car and offered him a ride. That terrible man now was sitting right next to me. The boogie man was next to me. I was frightened to death. Not only frightened because of how strange he looked but I thought he might recognize me and tell my parents I was the one who threw rocks at his shack.

Come to find out he was Catholic and walking to Easter Mass. How could he be Catholic like me? After Mass then my dad did something even more startling, he invited him home to eat Sunday breakfast with us. That began a long friendship with our family. The boogie man turned out to be a very lovely and lonely elderly man. He died when I was in college and I remember crying for my friend who was a frightening stranger and who became a dear friend by the gift of compassion.

How do we grow in compassion? We know the world so needs it and we are called to be compassionate by our faith in Christ.

Compassion begins with opening our eyes and noticing people around us. Noticing if someone is sad or troubled is a part of compassion. Then we need to put ourselves in the shoes of that person and ask ourselves how we would feel if this was happening to us. Next we must ask ourselves what kind of help we would need in this position to alleviate the suffering. Finally, we must then offer the same help to him. For example, we must listen when someone wants to talk about their problem, share our own experiences or just say encouraging words to give them hope. Inviting someone lonely to your home for a great pancake breakfast worked pretty well for me.

Another story of compassion. There was a rich man who had everything — good food, lovely clothes and a big house. There was a poor man who sat at his gate. He had nothing. He begged. The soars on his body the dogs licked. One day the rich man saw him at his gate. He began to talk to him. He was poor but had a deep peace in his heart. He told the rich man his name was Lazarus. Which means God is my help. He told the rich man that God was always helping him even in his sufferings and trials. He felt God was with him. He thanked God for his love even though he was hungry and poor. He told the rich man he wanted only a few things, a small scrap from his table and a small loaf of bread. The rich man listened and his heart was moved. He felt compassion for this man and even envy. He did not have the peace or the trust of this poor man. He fed him and clothed him and took him into his home. He became his brother and now both were rich with the gift of compassion. One day the poor man died and soon after so did the rich man. And both were taken into heaven. Both sat in God’s glory. Both were brothers, for in Christ there is neither rich nor poor, slave or free man only brothers and sisters in Christ.

The writer is pastor of the Church of the Nativity in Magadan, Russia.