How many people are essentially helpless and vulnerable?  These human beings cannot “make it on their own,” They can’t because they don’t have the basic capacity or skills necessary to even begin to navigate life in our world. If they don’t have others to care for them and to protect them, they can’t survive. These people are completely unable to produce anything tangible or to directly contribute to the economy of their village or country. To some, maybe to too many, they are useless, a burden, a waste of resources. Perhaps they are among those to whom Jesus referred when he spoke about the littlest and the least.

It is easy to question why they exist. What is their purpose? What could possibly be the meaning of their lives? Of what value are these totally dependent human beings? This is utilitarian thinking, not Gospel-thinking. 

In primitive societies, and in times of raw survival, these folks are near the top of the list to be eliminated – for the good of the others. Let them die, so we can live. They are too old, too frail, too broken, or too disabled to be of any practical good. We can’t waste our precious, limited, vital supplies on them. It’s sad, but we must let them go.  

Tragically, there have been times and places, even in recent history, in order to try to create a society of the strongest, the best, the brightest, anyone considered to be less than optimally human was disposed of. In modern parlance they were categorized as “losers.” This pigeonholing of people exalts some and tears others down. And losers, even those who get the silver medal, are worthless. This way of designating human beings offers a twisted rationale for dismissing, or directly or indirectly killing, those whom the “winners” label as such.

It is incomprehensible that some modern countries today, especially those that live with super-abundance, still think so primitively. They continue to see some people as less than human, and therefore not deserving of being treated with dignity, respect, or even basic care. As always, the true reason is fear. Fear of what? That there won’t be enough to go around? Absurd!

Fear that these “defective” creatures are truly human? But they’re different than us, so they can’t be like us. Having a “THEM” to fear is a great distraction from what really is the agenda behind it: Those with more, merit more. Those with less can do without. If they can’t, too bad.

The United States Congress is made up of people who have plenty in terms of comfort and financial security – all they need and much more. Yet the majority of its elected representatives, at the request of the administration, is looking for ways to legitimize cutting all kinds of funding that is meant to support and assist the most needy among us. They back up their civilized cruelty with tissue paper rationalizations. There is no thought about how their decisions are going to devastate human lives.

Pearl Buck, American writer and novelist, once said,  “The test of any civilization is in how it treats its most vulnerable.” Sadly, we continue (humanity continues) to fail this test. Jesus once said, “Whatever you do to the littlest and least you are doing to me.” Our response, too often, is, “So what?”

Over the past six years my life has gone in a direction I hadn’t sought, planned, or anticipated. In January 2019 my dermatologist called me with the results of a biopsy she had done. I had had several biopsies previously, so this wasn’t worrisome. They all had come out negative. I was in very good health, as far as I knew. This time the report indicated a cancer which the dermatologist labeled aggressive and unpredictable. It needed immediate specialized attention.

I met with an oncologist who described this cancer as “rare,” and already in stage two. (I never really wanted to be this special.) Two surgeries and years of immunotherapy took a huge toll on my body. The cancer passed to stage three. The treatments became more intensely powerful as the “wild” cancer resisted and persisted. Finally the infusions needed to be stopped because the side effects were devastating.

Scans to track the status of the cancer showed no new activity, so they were offered at longer and longer intervals. Could it be possible that we could relax – that the cancer was in remission? In July of last year, I discovered a new tumor in the area where the cancer had first appeared. Scans showed that, indeed, the cancer was back and had spread. Now stage four.

With the first diagnosis, I was forced to realize that I may never again enjoy another Christmas, or birthday, or see loved ones who live far away. Death became my shadow. Death was constantly shoving its way into my consciousness. Now this awareness has increased.

Death is a fact of life. Since my early years I’ve known that living things, including people, die. But now death has moved in, and isn’t going away. The realization of the fragility of life grows. We are born with no guarantees. I have lived a long life, but I certainly would prefer to have more years to savor, to share, to grow.

Is it possible to consider the inevitability of death as a blessing? Death certainly gives us perspective on what is essential and what is just blinding distraction. Death reminds us that our time here on earth is limited. Life is short. If we are free to choose, we need to opt for the life we truly desire to live. Waiting for some day when circumstances are finally right is futile. Some day never comes.

Death doesn’t care about our agendas. Death puts the lie to the illusion that we can live life on our terms. Death whispers continually, “Now is the time! Do it now! Live each day to the full!”

Every morning that we wake up, every moment that we have is precious gift. Death reminds us of this. St. Francis of Assisi named her “Sister Death.” Death offers perspective. St. Ignatius of Loyola has as a discernment exercise, when you don’t have clarity, to see yourself on your deathbed, looking back at an important decision you are about to make, to get a feel for what you would have preferred to choose. Other saints kept a human skull in their cave or room as a reminder. Death is clearly our relative, can be our companion, perhaps even a very uncomfortable friend. 

There’s plenty that’s unsettling going on. One particular phenomenon that clutches and tears at my heart is the pervasiveness of people of all ages who seem to be adrift, floundering, lost. Children in kindergarten and in the primary grades already are showing deeply concerning signs of anxiety and depression. Middle-aged men, afraid of having no meaningful place in the world that is evolving, are committing suicide at a rate not seen, perhaps, since the Great Depression. People are breathing in, and succumbing to, an atmosphere of despair.

Masses of young people today behave as if they are “possessed.” They have been taken hold of by a soul-withering sense that they have no worth and no sustainable future. “What difference does it make?” and “Who cares?” can be indicators of something insidious – a complete lack of self-valuing. With this attitude, a person might slide into all kinds of self-destructive modalities. “It doesn’t matter,” becomes a cover for “I don’t matter.” “What difference does it make?” can easily develop into “What difference do I make?” “Who cares?” comes out as a cry, “Who, out there, really cares about me, if I live or die?”

Between continuous world-wide war and the present peril of climate degradation there is basis for anxiety and fear. We can legitimately wonder, who is willing to stop the mutually-assured destruction (M.A.D.); who has the will to make the sacrifices necessary to choose a future for all creatures. Re-asserting a future will require rigorous discipline from a great number of people – putting aside one’s illusions of safety and false sense of comfort. In a crisis, no-one “has it made.” We are all interconnected, and as long as anyone of us is struggling, we all are. We need one another to work for something much better, – a world where everyone has a place; everyone makes a difference.

This kind of transformation demands more than saying the right words. We need to “walk the walk,” not just parrot the right things. It doesn’t help to repeat phrases like: “I care;” “You matter;” “You are wonderful,” etc. if our actions don’t consistently match the words. It’s not about trying to be perfect; we can’t and we aren’t. It’s about following through, apologizing when we fall short, redoubling our efforts to show our love. Then the response to the question,”Who cares?” can be, “I care.” “You are precious, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to build a beautiful future for you, and with you.” This is what “I love you” means today.