At the risk of making a fool of myself, I’ll relate to you a moment I had the other day.
I was watching a movie when I found myself moved by a scene between the principal characters. I chuckled aloud at the emotional response that the scene elicited, and I began to wonder why I felt so moved by it. Why, I wondered, did I find the moment so refreshing and good for my soul?
And then it hit me.
The scene depicted a moment of genuine tenderness and compassion. The incarnation of selflessness and mercy felt like salve on a burn, and a balm to a weary soul. In truth, I melted.
I warned you that I was taking a risk.
I’ve come to the following conclusions:
1.) The emotionally charged and beautifully executed moment in the movie reveals how hungry I am for acts of kindness. In a context where everything feels hot to the touch and raw, I find myself yearning for humility and gentleness.
2.) A well-timed act of compassion can defuse tension, reduce fury, and disarm the madness that our current climate has inaugurated.
Mark 14 tells the story of someone who extends kindness to Jesus. This, alone, should beg our attention as we typically identify Jesus as the one who is the agent of compassion to others. But in this case, someone goes out of their way to be a blessing to Jesus.
“While Jesus was at Bethany in the house of Simon the leper, as he sat at the table, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very costly ointment of nard, and she broke open the jar and poured the ointment on his head. But some were there who said to one another in anger, “Why was the ointment wasted in this way? For this ointment could have been sold for more than three hundred denarii, and the money given to the poor.” And they scolded her. But Jesus said, “Let her alone; why do you trouble her? She has performed a good service for me. For you always have the poor with you, and you can show kindness to them whenever you wish; but you will not always have me. She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial. Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.”
The woman’s “good service to Jesus” is a blessing to him. So much so that he reports that wherever the Good News is proclaimed, her kindness will be remembered. What a striking statement! When we think of the Gospel, we think of remembering Jesus. But here, Jesus is so moved by the service to him that he states that she will be remembered.
Talk about making a good impression. And how is it that Jesus finds himself so delightfully honored? The woman’s kindness touches him, moves him, bowls him over.
An act of humility, kindness, and compassion can change the trajectory of events. It can soften hearts that have hardened and can soothe spirits that are inflamed. Jesus was not easily impressed. An act of graciousness and hospitality, though, steals Jesus’ attention and garners his praise.
Imagine, for a moment, the difference that a single act of kindness can make in our world. A selfless act to honor someone can mend a broken relationship. Empathy and a non-anxious response can engender trust where trust had not previously existed. An expensive or otherwise costly gesture can stop a detractor in their tracks.
No, acts of compassion do not come cheap. They risk our resources and perhaps even our pride. A kindness to someone outside our tribe will anger friends and invite criticism. Unfortunately, the woman’s anointing of Jesus in our story is met with hostility. She is breaking the rules—the rules whereby an act of kindness is considered a suspicious act. Her critics suggest that her gift to Jesus is misplaced energy and would be better served in other ways. Acts of kindness will always be judged to be wastes of time. When we shower blessings on others, it takes away from our own coffers and our own interest.
Years ago, there was a movement afoot to do ‘Random Acts of Kindness.’ The premise behind this campaign was that a random and undeserved act of helpfulness would prompt a beneficiary to pay it forward to someone else. We don’t know why this woman singled out Jesus for the blessing she bestowed upon him. But I like to think that it was gratitude that prompted her beautiful offering.
And I think we can all agree that the woman’s act of kindness was anything but random. It was calculated, planned, and offered lavishly to Jesus.
Our world doesn’t need our acts of compassion to be random. They need to be well-positioned and enthusiastically executed. For when they are, we’ll be moved by how powerful they are.
They will feel like a tall glass of water on a hot summer’s day.