"Pretend We're Dancing"

... and a time to dance.

— Ecclesiastes 3:4b

He was a young man in his early thirties — bright, busy, developing his career with loads of potential. And his grandmother was dying. She had fought the good fight with cancer through a long and difficult struggle. The ordeal was nearing its end.

Her grandson flew to Virginia to see her. It would be their final visit.

Her pain was severe, and her body was now frail. She always had been a lady of independence and dignity. Her new reality, with its dependency and indignities, was humbling, if not at times humiliating. Bone cancer made walking impossible. She was now reliant on kind hearts and strong arms.

Her joys in life, once abundant, were narrowed to a precious few. Her heart leaped as one of those few — this handsome young grandson — came into her room. They embraced and spent the afternoon together talking and laughing.

The next morning she was scheduled for radiation to help reduce the pain. These would be her final moments in the sunlight, as she would ride the few blocks to the clinic. An attendant pushed her wheelchair to the driveway. This lady of dignity would have to be helped even the few steps from the wheelchair to the car.

Her grandson reached down and wrapped his arms around her tiny body. He lifted her in the air to carry her the short distance. His eyes brightened, and with a lilt in his voice he said, "Gran ... pretend we're dancing!"

Compassion springs from that Christlike place within every human heart.

Compassion has the spirit of wanting to bring others into the dance. The word compassion means to suffer together. To be compassionate is to offer myself from the heart. It means we care and are willing to be personal. Compassion is about getting involved. About making a difference. Compassion means to get into the ditch willingly with another and patiently, supportively endure the struggle together.

Compassion is to be willing to join others who are suffering in the desire to alleviate their pain.

It comes from the Latin pati, which has an interesting combination of meanings: to suffer, to endure, and to be patient. The word itself is formed from the Latin "to suffer" (passion) "with" (com) another. Compassion is to patiently feel the pain with another as we support and bring the aid we can.

Life can be terribly difficult. "Pretend we're dancing!" — or words like them — are ones we need to hear and be lifted by a gracious, generous spirit. Compassion involves asking another to dance. The loving invitation comes both from a place of kindness and a desire for connection. To be asked to dance is to be invited into loving relationship by one who wants to join with you on the journey.

Dance, then, wherever you may be;
I am the Lord of the Dance, said he.
And I'll lead you all wherever you may be,
And I'll lead you all in the dance, said he.

— "Lord of the Dance"

Learning this dance means to live with a loving spirit. As I have come to think of it, this involves four different expressions of care. Each is valuable. Each is important. Each overlap. And each is slightly different from the others. They are:

Sympathy
Empathy
Compassion
Loving-Kindness

Sympathy Is to Be With

The first of these expressions of care is the experience of sympathy. Sympathy is an invitation to dance with another. It is to care enough to take the time, energy, and focus to be with someone who does not need to feel alone.

Sympathy is an emotional response of concern at another's misfortune.

Now stay with me here. Let's get technical for a moment, for this distinction is important.

Presence is when we are humbly sitting with those who are hurting in the midst of what has been done and can't be fixed.

Sympathy is similar in meaning with its linguistic cousin empathy but with an important difference. The root of both words is from the Greek pathos meaning "suffering." Yet the origin of the first syllable of sympathy is from the Greek sum meaning "with another" or "together."

To be sympathetic is to sincerely care for, to be with, another person in a spirit of concern. It is supportive. It is caring. Sympathy is to be meaningfully present in the other person's life. It is to be with the other.

Gabe, a young man with a kind heart, was sitting on a park bench with a homeless woman. The woman was eating a hot dog he bought for her from a street vendor. He offered to take her to a restaurant, but she said this would be just fine, thank you. And they talked. After a pause in the conversation, he said to her, "You know, Sally, if I can help with anything you need —" She cut him off in mid-sentence, "I don't want your help!" She said, "I want your company."

Sympathy highlights the importance of presence. For those in pain, there is no greater gift we can offer than to quietly, respectfully be with them. The gift is the gift of yourself. When you are fully present, those who are hurting feel connected and no longer alone.

Presence is when we are not trying to do or fix anything but humbly sitting with them in the midst of what has been done and can't be fixed.

This idea of presence is surely a part of what Jesus meant when he said, "For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them" (Matthew 18:20). There is a supportive power felt in the company of one who brings that calming spirit of caring.

Sympathy is not to be confused with pity, which implies detachment and often condescension. It seems the understanding of the two words is often blurred, which can shortchange sympathy into nothing more than a Hallmark gesture.

How shall I put it? Pity is simply recognition of someone's anguish. There is no heart in it. Pity is an awareness of someone's distress but from a distance. There is no personal caring or desire to be involved. Pity implies the aloofness of the cliché, "There but for the grace of God go I."

Sympathy is much more. Sympathy cares.

When sympathy is felt, the other person matters. It's from the heart. It is — back to the Greek origin — a desire to be with another in that person's pain.

Sympathy is akin to the idea of consolation. Console comes from the Latin consolari — meaning "with solace." As with sympathy, to console is to be with another in...