CPTnet
 April 7, 2004

IRAQ: Pity or Love

by Peggy Gish

Several changes have taken place in the orphanage run by the Sisters of
Charity ( the late Mother Theresa's order) since September. Two new infants,
Mustafa and Ziad add to the melee of the playroom. New toys abound and new
chairs allow these disabled children to sit more comfortably. But there are
the same playful noises and sense of family.

Recently, while I sat among the children singing and helping a large stuffed
animal talk to them, a woman walked in hesitantly to greet them. She gently
shook her head with a look of pity on her face.

 Her sentiment seemed out of place in this playful scene. Silently, my heart
shouted "No! You are mistaken. They are not things to be pitied. They are
real people! They are Nurah and Amid and Nashua. When I see Dunia's
mischievous smile as she grabs a handkerchief out of my pocket or watch
Ziada's sparkling eyes and trusting look, I don't see them as a girl with
cerebral palsy or a boy with brain damage. I see them as beautiful little
people who have much to give.

Pity and love don't go together. Pity distances; love connects. With pity
they are looked at and treated as a tragedy or as misfits. With love they
are seen as fully human and good. Love stops seeing the deformity but
watches for the beauty and uniqueness to emerge in their smile or twinkle of
the eye, or even in the stormy cry of pain or anger.

I think of a similar kind of sentiment many have when they think of a group
of people suffering war or poverty, as the Iraqi people are today. If
pitied, we can distance ourselves from their humanity and can throw them
some "crumbs." We can feel generous, because we are giving them something,
rather than fully embracing them as deserving of every good thing that
others in our world enjoy, and fully competent to decide how their country
should be restored.

With pity, we can grudgingly give some money to rebuild what the US has
destroyed, and then give that money to our companies who "know best how to
do it right" (and in the process put large profits in their pockets.) With
pity we can believe that we need to guide Iraqis into democracy, knowing
what is best for their society. We can use pity to cover up all kinds of
paternalistic, dominating or oppressive policies.

In our work among the Iraqi people, pity has no place. There's suffering,
brokeness, anger and pain here, but we see also their strength, generosity,
and creative spirit.

 A newly arrived Sister from India walked me to the door of the orphanage as
I was ready to leave. As she thanked me, I said, "Thank you. I always
receive more than I give." She responded, "Yes, that's the way it is with
love."