Come on People now…

Smile on each other.
Everybody get together.
Try to love one another.
Right now.

A 93-year-old man in Michigan freezes to death in his house after the electricity is turned off.
A man dies on the sidewalk of Columbia Heights, a Washington D.C. neighborhood, while people pass by.

These news stories of the past week disturbed me much more than news of layoffs, less-than-ethical politicians, foreclosures and economic despair. We hear of people dying everyday, yet these two stories carry with them a sense of disconnection that troubles me and convicts me.

In major cities, I often pass bodies on the street. They are slumped in corners or on park benches. Any one of them could be lifeless or needing medical care, but I always hurry past and look away, claiming I am protecting their privacy to absolve my guilt. According to yesterday’s news from Columbia Heights, and the accompanying surveillance camera footage, people saw the act of violence that caused the man to fall and hit his head before he became motionless. More than 20 minutes later, someone finally called 911. It took the ambulance only two minutes to come to the man’s aid.

And what of the 93-year-old childless widower in Michigan who hadn’t paid his utility bill?  It was reported the temperature inside the man’s house was 32 degrees when he was found, lying on his bedroom floor, wearing his coat over four layers of clothing. His neighbors, who checked on him four days after a limiting device had been placed on his utility meter, were furious with the city. But four days had gone by without seeing a light, the usual flicker of his tv in the front room, or any sign of life in a home where a 93-year-old man lived alone. Perhaps their anger was really with themselves. I don’t know them, but I know I share much more in common with them than I’d like to think.

These stories engendered in me a sense of shame. I realized that metaphorically, I walk past dead and dying people all day. They aren’t homeless. They aren’t left alone in freezing temperatures. They are just left alone. Left out. Left behind. Sometimes, I hurry past because they seem cranky. Sometimes, the left behind seem just a little too friendly. Sometimes, I’m afraid if I give a little, they may need a lot and I just am not available for that kind of commitment right now.

See. It is shameful. God doesn’t put on the breaks in his relationship with me when I start to feel clingy. He just holds me close. Jesus poured himself out for the untouchable and the irritating (have you ever noticed how many really obvious questions his own disciples ask him over and over!?). Then here am I, who has everything, yet I act as if sharing my abundance…my patience, my friendship, my time…might be the sacrifice of my last drop of water on a trek through the desert.

Well, when I get down to my last drop, I hope I have the presence of mind to pour it all out with joy on behalf of someone who needs it a little bit more.

It is time to share, my friends. These days call for smiling on each other. For getting together. For making ourselves uncomfortable so that others might feel comforted. It is time to see need in the less-than-obvious places, and in the most obvious places. See the needs of the lovely woman with the couture clothing who feels friendless and unloved. See the needs of the panhandler in front of McDonald’s who may need the contact of your eyes and the warmth of your smile more than he needs a dollar. See the needs of the people in your home who you may meet with assumptions instead of understanding.

Go forward and meet these needs in love…the kind of love that teaches us not just to treat others the way we would like to be treated, but to treat others the way they would like to be treated. It’s time has come. Love is the mightiest word. Love one another. Right. Now.

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