Charter for Compassion

As a result of the recent shooting at Fort Hood Army Base the topic of Islam is frequently heard in the coffee shops and meeting places around town. And often I find myself holding the unpopular opinion that Islam is not the cause of the tragedy.

It’s important for us to remember that we fear most what we understand least. With that in mind, I encourage those who are tempted to direct their anger at Islam, to consider undertaking a bit of investigation into the spiritual principles of this amazing religion.  I recommend The World’s Religions by Huston Smith.

On my visits to local Mosques during my seminary studies, I was always welcomed by warm and caring women and men, eager to demonstrate the vast tenderness of their beliefs, something that is not often seen on the evening news.

It is good for our humanity to remember to hold each other as individuals sharing a common experience here in this lifetime … vulnerability, desire for love & acceptance, seeking meaning in situations that make us feel insecure and fragile.

The Charter for Compassion below was born as the wish of Karen Armstrong when she won the TED Prize in 2008. The Charter was officially launched into the world on November 12, 2009 and is being enthusiastically adopted by Interfaith Councils around the world.

Please, read it and consider adopting it as your personal Charter for meeting others in life. If you are fortunate, they will be looking at you through the same compassionate eyes.

CHARTER for COMPASSION

The principle of compassion lies at the heart of all religious, ethical and spiritual traditions, calling us always to treat all others as we wish to be treated ourselves. Compassion impels us to work tirelessly to alleviate the suffering of our fellow creatures, to dethrone ourselves from the centre of our world and put another there, and to honour the inviolable sanctity of every single human being, treating everybody, without exception, with absolute justice, equity and respect.

It is also necessary in both public and private life to refrain consistently and emphatically from inflicting pain. To act or speak violently out of spite, chauvinism, or self-interest, to impoverish, exploit or deny basic rights to anybody, and to incite hatred by denigrating others – even our enemies – is a denial of our common humanity. We acknowledge that we have failed to live compassionately and that some have even increased the sum of human misery in the name of religion.

We therefore call upon all men and women ~ to restore compassion to the centre of morality and religion ~ to return to the ancient principle that any interpretation of scripture that breeds violence, hatred or disdain is illegitimate ~ to ensure that youth are given accurate and respectful information about other traditions, religions and cultures ~ to encourage a positive appreciation of cultural and religious diversity ~ to cultivate an informed empathy with the suffering of all human beings-even those regarded as enemies.

We urgently need to make compassion a clear, luminous and dynamic force in our polarized world. Rooted in a principled determination to transcend selfishness, compassion can break down political, dogmatic, ideological and religious boundaries. Born of our deep interdependence, compassion is essential to human relationships and to a fulfilled humanity. It is the path to enlightenment, and indispensable to the creation of a just economy and a peaceful global community.

For more information, or to affirm the charter, go to http://charterforcompassion.org/share/about


Riding the River Again

I originally wrote this poem about a month after my mastectomy.  The cancer was out of my body, and I began to notice the multitude of emotional changes that were taking root in it’s place.

Not only was I different, I was also experiencing others in a radically new way.  And, I was behaving like a woman I didn’t recognize.  I felt like I had no control over who I was becoming.

It was overwhelming to have such deep changes roll through me faster than I could process them.  Fear ran rampant; it was a fast and scary emotional roller coaster.  I finally had to give in and admit that change had a grip on me.  I was just along for the ride.

That was nearly two years ago.  I’ve been fortunate to have lots of time to explore and adapt to the new me … physically, emotionally and spiritually.  And as usual, hindsight is a beautiful thing.  I’m now grateful that the changes were out of my control.  Had I been solely in charge, I never would have designed a future as fantastic as the one I’m living now.

I’m off to Africa in January to live my dream of empowering needy children:  improving their reading skills, giving them a future of brighter possibilities.  I sense more change approaching me on this journey, and once again this poem feels appropriate.  Only this time, I’m riding the river willingly, screaming gleefully around every curve.

RIVER of CHANGE

The river has me.
Hook, line and …
No, wait.  I’m a floater.
Breathe, Karen.  Breathe.

I didn’t agree to ride the rapids this way.
Caught up in the torrents.
Without a raft.
No protection.
Breath, Karen.  Breathe.

The rocks are huge.
More like boulders.
I could get hurt.
I might even break.
Breath, Karen.  Breathe.

I can feel the bubbles between me and the rocks.
They cushion me.
The water has worn the surface smooth.
There’s time to breathe, Karen.
Just breathe.

My belly is full of clean mountain runoff.
At least I’m not thirsty.
I can close my mouth now and take in air through my nose.
You’re breathing, Karen.
Just breathe.

The view is actually quite spectacular from here.
On my back, watching the tree tops fly by.
I’ve never seen them like this before.
I wonder how many miles I’ve traveled.
I don’t know how to measure this way.
Remember to breathe, Karen.
Just breathe.

The canyon walls make escape impossible.
What am I thinking?
It’s ridiculous to even try to reach the edge right now.
I’ll just rest my arms on my chest, and wait for the river to let me go.
Your breathing is strong now, Karen.
Just breathe.

Where will the river let me loose?
Perhaps a deep, still pond?
Maybe it will spit me into the ocean.
I won’t know until I arrive.
Breathe deeply, Karen.
Just breathe.

There will be some good tales to tell at the end of this ride.
It’s an adventure unlike any other I’ve known.
Perhaps I should just take in what I can, and let the rest be.
After all, the river has me.
Just breathe, Karen.
Just Breathe.

TELL A FRIEND

Email This Post Email This Post