DENVER – My mom captured pretty concisely the pain I know Marley and I have been feeling since our departure.
“It feels like someone has died,” she said, “it that’s kind of deep ache.” She added, after a short pause and a teary chuckle, “but you’re not really dead, so that’s good.
I couldn’t have said it better. It’s good – yes, in that nobody has died, but also in the larger sense that we are going down a path that has been prepared for us.
But it is so very painful.
I have moved more times than I can count at this point. Dozens of times. In the past six years alone, we have moved six times. I keep saying we should be better at it by now.
But this, by far, has been the very hardest move ever. But not because we’re still hopelessly disorganized, which we are, but because of who we are leaving behind. All those who’s make a what – a what that some might call community.
On the first morning of this trip I was up early writing in the small hotel lobby while Marley and the kids slept. A TV played in the corner. The big story of the day was about a 73-year-old man named Angel Torres who was hit by a car crossing a street in Hartford. The video showed him writhing in pain as cars drive around him. A scooter circles, eventually a crowd gathers but no one helps. Finally the police show up.
You can watch it here, but fair warning: it is distressing.
Anyway, one of the talking heads said this is what our country is becoming. “Everyone is turning inward,” she observed. “We are losing our sense of community.”
That may be true for much of the larger world, but one of the many good things I am taking with me from New Knoxville, is that it doesn’t have to be true everywhere. I have been thinking about that for days now.
And then we sat down in a beautiful cathedral in downtown Denver shortly after arriving on Sunday. And we inhaled the breath of fresh air that we desperately needed.
Peter Hiett has been one of our favorite teachers for several years. I have yet to listen to one of his sermons and not be moved and challenged and inspired.
And so it was not a complete surprise when the sermon began with the music of Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood. And then the video of Mr. Torres emerged on the big screen TV up front as the music continued in the background. It was a jarring and disconcerting juxtaposition.
And then Peter began his teaching on the Good Samaritan.
The story, recorded by Luke, goes like this:
On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. "Teacher," he asked, "what must I do to inherit eternal life?"
"What is written in the Law?" he replied. "How do you read it?"
He answered: " 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind'; and, 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'"
"You have answered correctly," Jesus replied. "Do this and you will live."
But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, "And who is my neighbor?"
In reply Jesus said: "A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he fell into the hands of robbers.
They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side.
But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, took him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper. 'Look after him,' he said, 'and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.'
"Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?"
The expert in the law replied, "The one who had mercy on him." Jesus told him, "Go and do likewise."
So, we’ve got a “lawyer looking for loopholes,” Peter says, asking who is my neighbor? Who, exactly, must I love to be saved? It was the wrong question and Jesus doesn’t even bother to answer. He doesn’t even acknowledge it.
Instead, he tells a story.
Peter noted that two things typically defined people in these days – how they dressed and how they talked. And Jesus describes this person laying naked and unconscious on the side of the road as basically a blank slate. It would have been impossible to know which group he belonged – Jew or Gentile, Roman or slave, friend or enemy – no way to tell.
And so then we have a leader of the religious establishment, a member of the upper class who was probably mounted and could carry the man to help, opting to do nothing.
And then along comes the Levite, of the tribe of Jews specifically tasked with serving the community. He couldn’t carry the man, but he could have at least rendered first aid. But he too walks on by.
Finally, the Samaritan comes along. During these times Samaritans were among the most reviled among the Jewish community. They were considered evil heretics and Jews prayed for their demise. Anyone hearing this story in the first century would know that for a Samaritan to ride into a Jewish town with a near-dead man on his horse, well, how much it would enrage the locals. They’d probably want blood. They’d probably want to make him a scapegoat.
All we know is that he does all he physically can while he is present to help. And then, just as he’s preparing to leave, maybe even facing an angry crowd outside, the Samaritan pays a price – any price necessary to take care of the wounded man. He covers the man’s debt. But then he says he’ll return. The Samaritan says he’s coming back.
“The Samaritan didn’t wait for us to become his neighbor,” said Peter, connecting the Samaritan directly to Jesus, “instead, he became our neighbor.”
The question isn’t who is my neighbor, what are the legal parameters that I must fulfill? The real question, rather, is who can I be a neighbor to? The difference is subtle but important. The first implies obligation, a legal duty, while the second is motivated out of eager anticipation.
Either way, the answer seems to be everyone.
At one point Peter said “Life is a body, a neighborhood of love, a community of love.” And it made me cry thinking of everyone back home and our neighborhood and our community of love. In some ways, it feels like we all found each other beside the road. I know I felt like each of our friends there at one point or another came alongside me when I was hurt and bleeding and naked and cleaned me with oil and wine.
Truth be told, Marley and I arrived in New Knoxville coming out of the most challenging time of our marriage. And each of you played such an important role in our healing, and ministering to our wounds.
Thank you for not leaving us by the side of the road.
For what it’s worth, Peter ended the sermon, as prayer and benediction with these words:
Don’t you want somebody to love?Don’t you need somebody to love? Couldn’t you love somebody to love? You better find somebody to love.
If those words sound familiar, or not, then you might enjoy listening to this… A song of worship never sounded better.
Peter noted that two things typically defined people in these days – how they dressed and how they talked. And Jesus describes this person laying naked and unconscious on the side of the road as basically a blank slate. It would have been impossible to know which group he belonged – Jew or Gentile, Roman or slave, friend or enemy – no way to tell.
And so then we have a leader of the religious establishment, a member of the upper class who was probably mounted and could carry the man to help, opting to do nothing.
And then along comes the Levite, of the tribe of Jews specifically tasked with serving the community. He couldn’t carry the man, but he could have at least rendered first aid. But he too walks on by.
Finally, the Samaritan comes along. During these times Samaritans were among the most reviled among the Jewish community. They were considered evil heretics and Jews prayed for their demise. Anyone hearing this story in the first century would know that for a Samaritan to ride into a Jewish town with a near-dead man on his horse, well, how much it would enrage the locals. They’d probably want blood. They’d probably want to make him a scapegoat.
All we know is that he does all he physically can while he is present to help. And then, just as he’s preparing to leave, maybe even facing an angry crowd outside, the Samaritan pays a price – any price necessary to take care of the wounded man. He covers the man’s debt. But then he says he’ll return. The Samaritan says he’s coming back.
“The Samaritan didn’t wait for us to become his neighbor,” said Peter, connecting the Samaritan directly to Jesus, “instead, he became our neighbor.”
The question isn’t who is my neighbor, what are the legal parameters that I must fulfill? The real question, rather, is who can I be a neighbor to? The difference is subtle but important. The first implies obligation, a legal duty, while the second is motivated out of eager anticipation.
Either way, the answer seems to be everyone.
At one point Peter said “Life is a body, a neighborhood of love, a community of love.” And it made me cry thinking of everyone back home and our neighborhood and our community of love. In some ways, it feels like we all found each other beside the road. I know I felt like each of our friends there at one point or another came alongside me when I was hurt and bleeding and naked and cleaned me with oil and wine.
Truth be told, Marley and I arrived in New Knoxville coming out of the most challenging time of our marriage. And each of you played such an important role in our healing, and ministering to our wounds.
Thank you for not leaving us by the side of the road.
For what it’s worth, Peter ended the sermon, as prayer and benediction with these words:
Don’t you want somebody to love?Don’t you need somebody to love? Couldn’t you love somebody to love? You better find somebody to love.
If those words sound familiar, or not, then you might enjoy listening to this… A song of worship never sounded better.
5 comments:
Not to be argumentative, but I guess I saw something very different on the Hartford video…
While the cruel coward was just beginning to drive away from his unsuspecting victim, the three people on the sidewalk instantly stopped horsing around and paid attention. One girl puts raises her hands to her head in surprise and walks partially into the street (the same street where a man was just brutally hit by a car) and presumably sees his poor condition. This is within 8 seconds of the event. Now, it’s a little blurry, but it appears that while she is visible just to the right of the tree and signs, on the edge of the street, she slips her hand into her pocket. She immediately turns and walks away (from the noise of the street?) and walks to the side of the building as though making a 911 call. This is 15 seconds from impact.
Four seconds later, eastbound traffic (in the form of a passenger car) stops a good distance away – providing a buffer and allowing room for an emergency vehicle.
Five seconds later, westbound traffic (this time a truck) stops next to the victim and seems to be trying to ascertain the man’s condition. This is still only 24 seconds after the man was struck.
Within the next 24 seconds, a dozen people are on the sidewalk or in the street, on phones or watching the victim or talking to drivers of vehicles. Also, some westbound traffic slowly moves along – a traffic jam would not have helped at all.
According to the Annals of Family Medicine, there is approximately one physician out of every 4,000 people in the US. We have a dozen on the sidewalk and maybe another fifteen or twenty in vehicles in this situation. What are the chances that one of them is a physician? Pretty slim.
These people checked the man’s condition, called for help from those that could give it, and most importantly, didn’t make matters worse by moving, crowding, or mistreating the man. The news said that he was in obvious pain, so he must have been conscious and would not have needed any resuscitation.
And then, like clockwork, 53 seconds after the man was struck, a police car is seen approaching. It maneuvers around the eastbound vehicle that has conveniently left room by the victim and parks a mere sixty-eight seconds after the crime (the hit and run crime, not the jaywalking crime).
My opinion: pretty good example of community action and responsibility and very quick response time of authorities. All of this is from a group of people that probably don’t know each other but are well aware of the dangers of trying to help someone without the skill or knowledge to do so. In today’s lawsuit-happy world, I think that all but two people made sound decisions and acted considerately and wisely.
Who are those two? The only two that could have prevented this in the first place – driver and victim.
Yes, my cups are all half-full.
Ted,
You make some excellent points. In fact, I read that not just one, but four people called 911 shortly after the accident. One of them reported that the man was bleeding heavily. For what its worth, the police car was on its way to another call, though. Fortunately, they were in the right place at the right time for Mr. Torres.
Regardless, several people did the legally correct thing by at least calling for help. And you’re right, the potential for lawsuits hang in the air of every situation like this. I remember when I was a reporter back in Texas covering the rescue efforts of a group of volunteer firemen who worked for hours trying to save a girl who had been sucked into a sluice on the Blanco River. She was probably already dead before they’d even gotten there. But you’d never know it by the way they worked. When they finally got her out they spent at least another hour trying to resuscitate her. A few months later her family sued them.
While I watched this video from Hartford, initially I found myself nitpicking the response. Why doesn’t the very next car or some bystander stop traffic so the poor man isn’t hit again? How can so many people drive by? What’s the deal with the guy on the scooter? Couldn’t someone have tried to render first aid? Don’t they know how quickly a heavily bleeding man can die?
The truth is, though, such moments can be shocking and overwhelming. By the time you’ve processed what’s going on, you’re already gone. Or maybe you just assume someone else is already helping.
I think you are right to take stock of the glass-half-full aspects of what occurred. Often things really aren’t as bad as they first seem.
In the end, though, I guess I am just saddened. I don’t think any of the people present treated Mr. Torres the way they would have wanted to be treated. I know if I had been the one laying in the middle of that street, bleeding and crushed, that I would have wanted someone to come take my hand, and if nothing else, look me in the eyes, and reassure me that help was the way and that everything would be okay.
And even if I had died in that moment it would have been feeling someone’s loving embrace rather than seeing their horrified looks from afar.
Well, you're just a weenie. ;-)
Ted,
I applaud your comments on the accident scene. I just completed a first aide/cpr course in the last 8 hours and one of the things our instructor really hit on was scene safety. Before you can do anything you have to be sure the scene is safe before you go in. Once on the scene you have to be the one that is calm and can take charge so that you can help the that victom to the best of your ability.
I don't see it as optomistic or pesimistic (sp?) glass half full or half empty. I see it as perspective. In the end the facts remain the same. It is what you have percieved that changes from person to person.
diana
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