The Bible is an interesting book. 

It's fascinating to me how two sincere people can read it and come away with completely different perceptions of what it emphasizes. 

One will read it and end up liberal, emphasizing society's duty to compassion.  Another will read it and end up conservative, emphasizing society's duty to individual responsibility.  And they'll both be in their respective churches on Sunday. 

The fact is the Bible emphasizes both.  

This dance between responsibility and compassion is as old as time.  And leaders need the artist's touch in their rendering... 

I've known people on food stamps.  I've known some people who have been on food stamps for a long, long time.  I've seen a change that subtly and slowly overtakes them. 

At first, most people hate the idea of being on the public dole.  Their self-respect and personal pride resist it.  But they do it because they have no other choice...if they don't they and their families may die.

For some, their situation doesn't turn around as quickly as they had hoped, and they remain on aid for a while longer.  What used to feel abnormal, and almost repulsive, begins to feel normal.  It is not as special anymore.  It becomes ordinary and comfortable.  Embarrassment ebbs and it becomes the expectation.

And here danger lies.

Whereas compassion was once absolutely necessary to keep this person from a quick and almost certain demise, it has now become the harrowing tool of a long grueling death of spirit.  It atrophies ambition.  It enables dependence. 

This is a cruel trick compassion can play.  Compassion foresees a potential catastrophic end and aches to step in to prevent it.  That's not only admirable, but necessary in a society that is populated by human beings. 

But when public support evolves from being a temporary help to being the norm, another death occurs.  Indeed, it leaves the individual bereft of aspiration and the community carrying the corpse.

I've seen the empty eyes where desire used to burn.  I've seen the vacant expression where effort's grimace used to appear.  I've seen the gait of confidence become the stagger of sloth and burden.  I've seen the lungs emptied of accomplishment; irresponsibility replace maturity and darkness enlightenment. 

I've seen the living lifeless and I've learned that compassion in its popular narrow definition did them no favors.  In my world, compassion is not duly defined only by hugs, handouts and help.   

Sometimes compassion is making a child study.  Sometimes compassion is holding an employee accountable and even firing them.  Sometimes compassion is not unburdening the homeless of expectation and effort.

If you need, I want to give you the first sandwich and maybe even the second and the third.  But I would prefer not to give you the tenth...that's a sandwich I want you to be able to reach for on your own.  You'll be happier for it too. That is my compassion talking. 

Charity is relatively easy.  Real compassion is much more difficult-it's the stuff of substance. It understands what the real need is and looks to fill it no matter the fallout. 

I stand with Al Pacino in Scent of a Woman, as he bellows to the hypocritical board and students of a military academy in the movie's climactic scene: "I've seen arms ripped off and legs torn from bodies," he says, "but there is no sight like the sight of an amputated spirit."

No sight like that at all.