The heart knows its own bitterness, and a stranger has no part in its joy.
Proverbs 14.10

How very alone we are indeed when tragedy strikes! There may be no dearth of well-wishers, and well-doers too, but somehow their very presence irritates rather than comforts. We may be sure that they mean well, but their solicitude somehow grates on our inner feelings, and how relieved we are when they have departed after having said and done their expected piece! This is, of course, very unkind, and when we have risen above our irritation, we have a chance to see ourselves in similar circumstances, bestowing our attention on others with appropriate concern and then moving on, in our own hearts thankful that we have not suffered likewise, and then deflecting our thoughts along more profitable channels.

Go, go, go, said the bird: humankind
Cannot bear very much reality.
Time past and time future
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.

These lines come from "Burnt Norton", the first of T. S. Eliot's Four Quartets. We cannot bear much reality because we are not able to live in the perpetual now, the present which we can alone acknowledge and affect. The past is a repository for used experiences on which we can reflect, perhaps with cold resentment or else sweet nostalgia. The future is a menacing realm of test, trial, failure or success depending on outer circumstances and inner strength. If only we could, like the twelve-year-old Jesus, be unceasingly about our Father's business (Luke 2.49), we would be centred completely in the present moment, which is both the final summary of the past and the controlling-point of the future. And then we would be able to share authentically and constructively in the woes and joys of other people.

The heart of the matter is this: until we can get ourselves out of the way, we cannot relate effectively to other people. While our thoughts are centred on ourselves, our time, our reputation, the image we are showing, and a score of other personal matters, we cannot be one with the other person. When all is going well, we can pass off our superficiality amid the light conversation of the passing hour, but when a deeper response is required, we will feel embarrassed at our helplessness, and so quickly revert to platitudes to conceal our naked shallowness.

The bitterness of which the writer of Proverbs writes may be a personal disappointment rather than a major tragedy, and here the privacy of the wounded heart is even more precious. The victim comes to realize that much solicitude has unconscious elements of condescension about it. The well-wisher unintentionally places himself or herself on a level above the sufferer, from which sage advice and reassurance can be given. The picture of Job's three well-intentioned friends comes to mind; they meant to comfort Job, but merely irritated him still further because of their insensitivity.

And here we reach the core of participation in the life of another person, whether in sorrow or in plenty. Only when we have attained such inner silence that we do not feel embarrassed at our lack of words and gestures, can we know some of the sufferer's bitterness, because it resonates with our own experience. And what we ourselves lack in knowledge is available in the life of Jesus, who, like the Suffering Servant of Isaiah 53, "had no beauty, no majesty to draw our eyes, no grace to make us delight in him". As we share in the common human lot, so this servant will come closer to us, and we to those who are in pain. A true friend knows the disposition of another's heart; if we have even one such friend we are truly blessed by God.

May I have the sensitivity, Lord, to be a source of comfort to my suffering neighbour by giving my very essence to relieve the pain and set the tortured mind at rest. May I have the inner joy to relish another's good fortune and to add to its celebration.