Comparing the causes of our pain destroys our ability to care

I was scrolling through Facebook the other day and came upon a meme that chastised people for complaining about high gas prices. The rationale for this rebuke, to paraphrase, went as follows: “Just be glad you’re not dodging bombs in the ruins of your home in Ukraine.”

This kind of preachy self-righteousness is disguised as “encouragement,” but it’s often nothing more than a thinly veiled accusation of entitlement. A guilt trip.

To translate: “Quit your whining, pansy-ass. You got it good.”

Oh, really?

I don’t think people who have to buy gas for their daily commute while struggling to feed their families would agree.

My first reaction to the comment about Ukraine was something different entirely. It wasn’t gratitude for being spared the war’s effects. It was sorrow for the fact that ANYONE should have to endure a senseless, barbaric war instigated by a power-crazed autocrat.

Comparing apples and oranges

I’m not talking about the false victimhood some people use to make others feel sorry for them. You’re not a victim if someone wishes you “happy holidays,” any more than you are if someone wishes you “merry Christmas.” You’re not a victim if two adults kiss in front of you, regardless of whether they’re an opposite-sex or same-sex couple.

I’m talking about the practice of comparing and contrasting real-world challenges that pose real threats to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

You don’t tell someone who works under sweatshop conditions for less than minimum wage, “Be happy you have a job.”

You don’t tell someone who’s been falsely imprisoned for 20 years, “Be glad you didn’t get your legs blown off in Nam.”

You don’t tell a person who’s just lost their life partner, “Be grateful it wasn’t your child who died.”

At least, you don’t say such things if you have a shred of human decency, but some people DO say things like this every day. They may not be as extreme as those examples, but they all shame people for feeling hurt, as though there’s something wrong with them.

There’s not.

There’s something wrong with the people who started that war in Ukraine. There’s something wrong with an economy that relies so heavily on fossil fuels — because it lines the pockets of oil executives and stockholders — that people are forced to choose between buying clothes for their kids and putting gas in the tank so they can get to work and earn the salary that was supposed to pay for those clothes. There’s NOTHING wrong with the people affected by these things, but there is something lacking in those who would shame them for being hurt.

Finding fault

If you shame people for their pain by reminding them that “other people have it worse” you’re doing just one thing: You’re dismissing that pain as unworthy of compassion. You’re minimizing their situation and, by extension, you’re minimizing them. You’re sending them a message that you don’t really care. And if you send them that message, they’ll be less likely to care about you when you find yourself going through hard times.

This is where compassion goes to die.

Telling someone to be happy because a departed loved one is “in a better place now” is harmful for the same reason. Even if you believe in a heaven, such reassurances do nothing to acknowledge the pain of living without that loved one. They only invite guilt for missing the person when they’re “really better off now.”

This lack of empathy is, unfortunately, part of the American psyche — the part that believes “you get what you deserve.” So, if you’re hurting, it must be your fault on some level. Even if you seem like an innocent victim, feeling hurt is a sign of weakness or selfishness because you’re supposedly not seeing the bigger picture. You’re too selfishly consumed in your own pain to see that others have it worse and to care about THEIR pain — at least, that’s how the guilt-trip narrative goes.

When Jesus showed compassion

The Gospel of John reports that when Jesus came upon a man blind from birth, his followers asked him whether the man had been born blind because of his own sin or that of his parents. (The question, of course, is nonsensical, since he couldn’t have committed a sin before he had been BORN blind that would have resulted in such a punishment.)

I always found Jesus’ response troublesome: “This happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life.”

According to the John, Jesus then proceeded to heal the man of his blindness. It seemed as though the blind man were just some sort of stage prop being used to make God look good.

But what if Jesus was saying something entirely different? What if he were saying, “How dare you suggest that someone was born blind because they deserve it? You’re so concerned with judging his condition that you’re missing what a wonderful person he is. On top of that, you’re judging him— something I’ve taught you not to do, by the way — for something that isn’t his fault and you’re using that as an excuse not to show compassion.

“So that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to show him compassion.”

Just be kind

Telling someone to “not feel hurt” because someone else has it worse is insensitive at best and cruel at worst. After all, there will always be SOMEONE who has it worse. The person who’s hurting doesn’t need your guilt trip. More than anything else, they probably need a hug and an expression of understanding. Maybe an offer of help.

Acting with compassion toward someone affected by high gas prices and feeling horrible toward war victims in Ukraine should never be an either-or proposition. Compassion, unlike fossil fuels, is an unlimited resource.

So, if you come across someone’s hurting, it’s best to follow this simple rule: Just be kind.

Stephen H. Provost is a former journalist and the author of 40 books on topics as diverse as philosophy, history, pop culture, and politics (not to mention a few novels). Each is available on Amazon.