To say that there is a lot of disagreement in the world today, including in the US, is an understatement. We also hear folks, sometimes including me, saying that those who say (and, especially, do) reprehensible things are bad people. But many religions, and indeed most folks who are thoughtful, would note that there is a distinction between what people say or even do and who they are. One formulation is “hate the sin, love the sinner”. Certainly, the Jesus Christ of the New Testament is a prime example of that approach, loving and caring for thieves, prostitutes, and other people who did “bad” things. It is disappointing, to say the least, that a very high proportion of those who claim to follow his teachings cannot even follow his example in supporting and caring for those who are victimized: the poor, the sick, the migrant.
But I still think that there is a point where doing bad things makes one a bad person. If you do enough bad things, and they are bad enough, and you consistently keep doing them despite knowing that they are bad, I think you are a bad person. Redeemable, perhaps. But bad. On the other hand, what about people who do good things? Does that make them good people? Do they have to do some minimum number of good things, that are good enough, with enough consistency? Some folks – most folks – do both good things and bad things. If you believe in a religion in which there is a final reckoning, they will be judged. If, like me, you don’t, you can do your own judging. Except mostly it’s beside the point, since there is little we can do to change others. I can laud the good things that people do and condemn the bad. I can be happy that we live in a world where so many people do good things, and sad that we live in a world where so many do bad ones. One theory of child rearing is to praise good behavior and ignore bad, hoping that will extinguish as a result. It is a nice theory, one that can translate to both adults and dogs, but it may not always work. And sometimes the bad behavior of children can be so dangerous, to themselves or others, that it is very difficult (and probably wrong) to just ignore it; it needs to be corrected. Adults, of course, should know better than to stick a fork in an electric outlet, but don’t seem to always be able to not drive crazily or drunk, or wave a loaded weapon around people, or abuse family and friends physically, sexually, or mentally.
Or even to not actively work to oppose those who are doing good. Some of the best things that people do (which might contribute to making them the best people) are to go out of their way to work to help those who are the most disadvantaged. An example, in my community of Tucson, are those who go out into the hot (or at night, especially in winter, cold) and arid deserts, leaving water for migrants who are wandering in remote areas with no water, and are in danger of dying. Two groups in particular do such good work that they need to be named: No More Deaths/No Mas Muertes and Samaritans, and there are others. But there are people who do not think this is good work. They blame migrants for a variety of things, and don’t want them to come into the US. They want the government to stop them. They want to stop them themselves. They want to stop the people who help them by providing water in the desert. Some of them are now out roaming the desert with weapons, looking not only for migrants but for those who try to keep them from dying. One member of Samaritans talked about the fear: “They carry guns. We carry water.”
I can’t know what motivates someone to not only think that it is a mistake to bring water to the desert, where desperate people who cannot pass at legal checkpoints are brought and abandoned by human coyotes to survive or not, but to also wish to stop – even at gunpoint – those others who are trying to help. The names of those helping groups are meaningful; No More Deaths is explicit. Samaritans refers to the parable in the book of Luke where a man beaten and left by robbers in the road is quickly passed by the “responsible people” of the community (a priest and a Levite), but helped when a Samaritan, a people generally disliked by the Hebrews, stops for him. The folks currently using that name try to emulate this. I am not sure who those who oppose and threaten them are trying to emulate. A recent article discussed how some Republican legislators, not just in Arizona but across the US, are attacking agencies like Casa Alitas, a project of Catholic Charities in Tucson, which has for many years provided a very temporary landing place for migrants legally dropped off by the CBP (Border Patrol); a bed and food and clothes and perhaps a ride to the airport or bus terminal to get to their ultimate destination. One politician from another state talked about the “secret” locations where these people are served. They are not secret, but they now need more security to protect not only migrants but volunteers. Of course, they are usually in poor and remote sections of town, but if the politician in question would like to offer up a facility near his home, I’m sure that there are organizations that would be grateful.
I am reading a book called “Cooked” by Carol Karels, who started first as a nursing student and then as a nurse at Cook County Hospital in Chicago in 1971. I also worked there, in the late ‘70s as resident, and then in the ‘80s and ‘90s, so it is of personal interest to me. One theme is the contrasting descriptions of it – huge, poor, under-resourced, decrepit, a “terrible place” according to a LOOK magazine article she quotes. It is also, however, a place where Chicago’s many poor and uninsured could – and can – go for care. The waits were long, the resources limited, but people in need were not turned away, and got the best care those who worked there could provide. Karels’ mother was a volunteer who collected donated clothing and other goods and spoke of the nurses and doctors who worked in the hospital as “saints”. I wouldn’t say that, especially having been one – although there were some who really probably were – but they, we, were committed to the idea that everyone deserved the best care we could provide. And it often became political; the year before I started the interns and residents went on strike. Not for more money (which the County government would have understood!) but for things like EKG machines – and grounded electric outlets that could take their plugs – and resuscitation equipment, and people to draw blood for lab tests. The residents called these working conditions, which of course they were. And 12 residents went to jail when the County told them to go back to work. But I digress. A little.
I tried to do work that was good, and that helped people. I didn’t want to be or expect to be a saint, whatever that is, but I also didn’t want to be someone whose marginal benefit to society was minimal. So maybe the work that other doctors and me, and Carol Karels and other nurses, and her mother and other volunteers, made a difference in the lives of people. And maybe, if we hadn’t been doing it, others would have. Or maybe not. It is usually easy to find someone to do better-paid, better-perked, better status work.
Anyway, I leave it to you to decide what is good and what is bad and doing how much of either makes the person doing it good or bad. But I know one thing: We need a lot more people doing a lot more good.
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