I have a soft spot for people like Weldon.
Weldon is tall. He ambles a bit when he walks—there has been a leg injury somewhere… or was there a stroke and partial paralysis? His curly black hair is straightened and streaked with silver. He has a thin moustache. His glasses are thick—they don’t fit his face well enough. Weldon has a broad, toothy smile. His head, turning at the end of his long, thin, neck can remind you of a tortoise craning to see beyond its shell.
At his best, Weldon could even be described as elegant. There is an air of refinement. He conveys sincerity. When he asks for help, which is what he did when he first arrived at the church, he is discreet.
He is precariously on the edge of sobriety, navigating the border of the steep slope that falls away into the abyss. For some, there’s no hiding the struggle. Despite his best efforts, Weldon can’t hide his demon. Is it his clothes that don’t quite fit or match, not quite appropriate for the season? Is it his too-earnest struggle to appear comfortable in his own skin, so as not to reveal what's going on just below?
After asking for our help, Weldon stayed around and joined the church. Took membership vows. Pledged his faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. Pledged to read Scripture and learn. Pledged to contribute his time, talent, and treasure. I sat with him at the new members luncheon, and he beamed.
He has also shown up to church drunk. In some ways, I give him credit—there are much better places to try and hide one’s desperate failings than church. Maybe he shows up drunk because he loves the church and wants to be there; maybe he’s desperate for someone to notice him so, perhaps, someone will reach out and catch him before he lands hard… again.
He has been at church off and on. He disappears, only to reappear.
The other night, I saw him—it was not at church, so I didn’t recognize him at first. 50 miles from midtown, on a train platform in New Brunswick, NJ, a man lurched toward me in the slanting light of sunset. I was looking down, reading. He asked me, slurring his speech, for a light. I told him, not really looking, that I didn’t smoke. Then I did look. And I saw Weldon—a person whom I know, far from home, wasted, hospital bracelets on his wrist. Did he recognize me? Did a glint of recognition penetrate his addled mind? Was he struggling to figure out what I was doing there, just as I was trying to make sense of what he was doing there? I don't think he knew me. He didn't know that he was known.
Before I could decide whether to embrace him, he was on to the next person. I didn’t stop him. I didn’t help him. What could I do? What can one person do? What can one church do? How far do our arms extend when a person is falling that hard, that fast, toward the abyss?
This post has haunted me throughout the past - trying - 24 hours.
ReplyDeleteI had to get medical care because of a cardiac conditon last night. On the stretcher next to me in the ER was a man who had been found passed out on 126 street. He had been drinking - had no memory of how he ended up on the street, or in the hospital. Something similliar happened with a close friend of mine a few weeks ago.
I don't know how much one person can do alone to help in a situation like that - I know I try and I know I feel very feeble when I do.
But I also know that we as a church - together - have to continue to try to keep our neighbors from disappearing into the abyss. We have keep working on developing real community.
This post really troubles me. In fact, it pisses me off. You write: "What could I do? What can one person do?"
ReplyDeleteThe least you could have done was look him in the eye and say, "I know you. I remember you. I don't know exactly how to help you but I care about you. Come back to church." Of course a bit of kindness isn't going to solve all of Weldon's problems, but what does doing nothing accomplish? Nothing. You know what, the least we can do is recognize one another's humanity. Especially when you know them. That's a decent first step when we are faced with towering social problems like alcoholism, homelessness, etc.
I'm sorry this response is taking on the tone of a lecture, but years ago I also faced a mountain of troubles and teetered on the brink of suicide. What I would have given on those nights when I was crying in the subway for someone, a stranger, to see my pain and reach out to me, even if it came to naught in terms of getting practical support like access to social services, which is what I needed.
Luckily, I was a lot more high functioning than Weldon and was able to resolve my situation without the help of the church. You asked a good question: "How far do our arms extend when a person is falling that hard, that fast, toward the abyss?" To find out, first you have to extend your arms! Look, I'm no saint, but my experiences looking out at the world from a very low place have pushed me to go out of my way and try to help the troubled strangers I encounter on the street, whether that means I call over a police officer, tell them a name of a shelter, or just ask if they need some help. Whatever. Did I change the world or these people's lives? Probably not. But I know how much I wanted someone to reach out to me when I was down, and so I do the same. After I've done so, then I get the privilege of worrying about the futility of what one person can do.
If I were you, I'd try and find Weldon's contact info and see if you can track him down. Say you saw him the other night and apologize for not stopping him. If this man has been coming to church off and on, it means he's reaching out. I can imagine how much it would mean to him if that reaching out went the other way.
And for the other Weldons out there, I'd look into how your church can refer people for social services, etc. A referral to a social worker might not help everyone, but there should be some infrastructure in place should someone in Weldon's situation drop into church on a semi-regular basis. If there had been some church-based practical support offered to him, you might not have ever encountered him in the train station. And if it was offered and ineffective, maybe Weldon can help the church brainstorm ways to improve it so fewer Weldons fall through the cracks. Because it seems to me that now you have two missed chances...which is the reason I'm being so hard on you now, so there isn't a third.
God Bless. I do apologize for the rant but I care about this issue and do give you enormous credit for being brave enough to confront this sticky issue. I really do. Maybe I shouldn't have opened my big fat mouth, but I do believe in the power of one person. Afterwards, I'll worry about what good all this ranting has done...
David,
ReplyDeletewow. Thanks for the honesty as always. It reminds me that ministers are people too. Sounds funny and like a cliche but as the previous angry poster seems to feel, some folks put people of the cloth on a pedastal. The best thing being at Marble showed me is that we are ALL stumbling in the dark on the path of Love to Jesus. We all make mistakes, swear, fight etc. But its ok. Its the doing, that is the matter, not how it is done.
I think I recall this fellow. There were so many regulars we had its hard to keep track. Sad. No good answer. I had responded the same way countless times to people asking for change at 2 am on a platform. What is the right thing to do? When God tells me Ill let you know. Ill keep doing, and trying to do my best. God Bless.
I think that it happened too fast for Dave to respond. We as a small C church have to do all that we can for people like Weldon. But we can't work miracles. At some point, Weldon has to seek treatment and stick with it.
ReplyDeleteThese things happen in a flash, in the wink of an eye. How many times have I, or you, not immediately recognized someone that we knew out of context.
I once held a uniform job and was amazed how few of the people that I dealt with on duty recognized me out of uniform.
Going back to someone after you've recognized them to say "hello," "I recognize you," "I care about you," is not "working a miracle." It's common decency. It's quite easy to do. It requires no money and only a few minutes of your time. If someone can't do such a simple thing, it's troubling, to say the least. Especially if that someone works as a minister. And in response to the idea that my criticism is the result of "putting people of the cloth on a pedastal," that's nonsense. Everyone should be held to a higher standard and strive to show compassion to our fellow brohters and sisters. But c'mon, working as a minister requires a little more in the way of involvement and committment to people in distress than working as a waitress or a graphic designer.
ReplyDeleteI'm not faulting anyone for not recognizing someone...I've done it myself, probably more often than I know. But not going back to this person after recognizing him was not the right thing to do. Sorry, but it wasn't.
And if you read the post closely, while there's a regretful tone, there's no admission of mistake. It's sounds almost as if the blogger wrote this to be comforted ("What could I do? What can one person do?), when it is, yes, his job to comfort the afflicted. It's great to have readers to rush to your defense, but then why post? to make yourself feel better?
I took the blogger's questions seriously and offered a less than popular response. But I do hope it makes people think about missed chances and what they might do differently next time. If everyone just replied, "Thanks for your honesty" or "Weldon has to seek treatment and stick with it," would it make us think about what our responsibility to others? Or would we forget it, slap a bow on things, and move on?
Dear Anonymous,
ReplyDeleteHow can we recognize you? I appreciate your response but it is interesting that you leave it without a name or a relationship to David or Ula or Billy or Mark who write here and who are in relationship with each other and willing to know each other's hearts and be known by them.
Introduce yourself as we all stumble on this platform.
Beth
I should say that I'm grateful for Anonymous' comment. In the moment, I made a hard decision. It was late in the evening. I had just spent hours at the hospital at my daughter's bedside. I had an hour train ride and a 45 minute subway ride before I got home. I decided that I was not emotionally prepared for engaging Weldon in that moment.
ReplyDelete"What can I do?," was an expression of frustration that I could not muster the courage, in that particular moment, to reach out to him, even as I knew better.
I'm glad this post generated an emotional response.