Religion & Culture | A case of inhumanity … We have a moral responsibility to help the sick and suffering

Every week I spend some time in lower Manhattan. University Place lives up to its name; its collegiate atmosphere is evident, and so too is its diverse culinary culture. It is there that I came across a heart-wrenching scene.

In the midst of New York City’s glamour was a dishevelled, skeletal, incoherent and fragile man lying on the sidewalk. His nails were black and his skin caked in dirt. His hair had thinned and baldness was setting in. He appeared to have lost more than his hair. As he spoke, I could not see a single tooth. His voice trembled as he shielded his eyes from the scorching midday heat. His face was crimson and his eyes were unfocused. Clearly, he was a sot, irreparably ravished by the bottle. He intimated that much.

This man was not unlike countless broken men and women who have lost the war with life’s challenges. There was something so different about this man. I needed to stop and talk to him.

I asked if he needed food. He never responded. After several attempts, I got his attention. He was hard of hearing, he said. He welcomed my offer. I vacillated for a moment not knowing what to buy. I hurried to the closest deli and purchased Gatorade and bars of chocolates, thinking that he might not be alive when I returned, such was the severity of his condition.

He commented on the “delicious” tasting Gatorade and savoured his confectionery. He laboured to eat and drink, his life force seemingly oozing from his meagre frame.

I was blunt: “Get some help, you are going to die!”

“I don’t want help,” he replied and bowed his head in resignation.

I remained with him for a long as I could, mindful of a fast-approaching work-related appointment. I straightened from my stooping position and slowly moved away. I looked back repeatedly at the pitiful figure on the sidewalk, his outline soon dimming as distance lengthened between us. Soon, passers-by shut out my line of sight.

WHAT WENT WRONG

Hours later, reels of my experience began playing in my head.

Why did this man unsettle me so completely?

Was I seeing my own vulnerabilities in this sympathetic figure?

I thought hard about my feelings.

Admittedly, I saw myself in this hapless man. Not one among us controls tomorrow or even the next minute.

This man was a son, possibly a husband, brother and nephew. That man was once employed, had once played sports, attended his high school prom, and dated.

But something went drastically wrong. What that was? I do not know.

What is certain is that we can all be victims of life’s vagaries.

Then, I reflected on the scores of people that passed by during my stay with this defeated soul. Alas, not a single person cared to stop, to glance sympathetically at a man that was clearly dying.

I understand that the homeless can be fiercely independent, but this man was not only homeless, he was clearly on his last leg. These passers-by were university students, shoppers and groups of gawking tourists. I struggled to understand our disconnection to humanity.

Maybe ‘dregs’ of society, especially sots, are never sympathetic figures. We are overly intolerant. They are culpable for their own shortcomings, we say. Maybe we judge others harshly so we do not feel personal or collective responsibility.

I wondered if a handful of people had gathered around this man and showed genuine interest, would he have responded differently when I encouraged him to seek help?

More important, what does our indifference say about us as a people? How could we turn a blind eye to another fellow human being that is dying before our very eyes?

WHERE IS THE LOVE?

I am sure there were so-called people of faith among those who ignored this man. And there were unbelievers, too, I am sure. No society can claim to be civilised if its people are cold and self-serving. Having concern for only those we know does not qualify as love. Love is a grander, embracive feeling for all whom we come into contact.

My day was winding but the spectre of the day’s event never let up. Guilt consumed me. I should have asked him for a number of a friend or relative, someone to comfort him. I should have done more. Why did I not call 911? Why?

And I thought of our broken society and recounted the idyll of which Confucius spoke. Of society, the great philosopher said that we do not take the ethical and moral content of everyday life seriously. He said that we are each a friend to someone. He spoke of “co-humanity, i.e., the potential to live together humanely rather than scrapping like birds or beasts”.

Sadly, in a time steeped in individualism, we cannot make sense of Confucian Transcendence, a teaching that compels us to conduct all of our daily activities with moral and ethical responsibility.

 

- Dr Glenville Ashby is the award-winning author of the audiobook ‘Anam Cara: Your Soul Friend and Bridge to Enlightenment and Creativity’. Email feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com and glenvilleashby@gmail.com, or tweet @glenvilleashby