Dignity and inclusion . . . on the sidewalk

Writing for the Centre for Action and Contemplation Rabbi Sharon Brous draws on her Jewish tradition to name the dignity of every human being. She tells a story illustrating how nearness and neighborliness lead to loving action:

My friend goes to a church of Caribbean immigrants in downtown Los Angeles. One day his pastor preached: Say you’re walking in downtown LA, or Chicago, or New York. A naked man runs in front of you on the sidewalk, screaming and cursing. What do you do?

Most of us, of course, briskly cross the street. That guy’s unwell, we think. 

But say you live in a tiny town of maybe fifty households. You’re walking around one day when a naked man runs in front of you on the sidewalk, screaming and cursing. And because you live in a tiny town, you know this man … it’s Henry. Last week, you just happen to know, there was a terrible tragedy, and fire burned Henry’s house to the ground, leaving him with nothing. What do you do? 

“Henry,” you say, “come with me, friend. You need a warm meal and a safe place to stay.” 

Reading Rabbi Sharon’s words, I think with a certain sadness that I would also cross the street to the other side, (I am typically very shy), except as I recall on one particular occasion:

A few years ago, my Occupational Therapist wife, and soon-to-be Occupational Therapist daughter were in Kelowna sometime between Christmas and New Years. It was cold and snow lay on the ground. As we rounded a corner our daughter saw a man, not naked, though wearing only underwear. We were all shocked and shall we say, somewhat uncomfortable.

My wife was then working in seniors’ mental health services, so of the three of us she was best able to assist. He was no festive reveler; in fact, he seemed entirely alone. He could carry on a conversation but seemed unaware of the gravity of his situation. After some conversation we determined that he lived nearby. Uncertain that he could find his way home independently, and possibly unwisely, we brought him into the car with us and asked him to direct us to where he lived. Once arrived, with a little encouragement he ascended the steps to the door. He was able to buzz the superintendent who recognized his voice and let him in. We reported the incident to police and suggested a wellness check.

I have no idea what happened in the days following. I hope he eventually found a safe living situation and received appropriate care. Clearly the status quo was unacceptable. My point in sharing our story is that such situations can arise for any of us, at any time, anywhere. You can’t prepare for them. What you can do is prepare yourself for the  unexpected. Don’t be scared to get involved but use your head. In order for persons to experience dignity and inclusion they must be treated with dignity. This does not mean we are all competent care providers. We need however to be willing to take discomforting risks, followed by dialogue and strategic planning with other persons, agencies, and concerned individuals and organization.

Note to self—those of us who constantly seek to rescue others are often themselves seeking rescue. We are not saviours, though we are motivated and equipped by the one we call Saviour; the humble helper of us all. Heed the wisdom of the Spirit.