Am I my Brother's Keeper? What responsibility do I hold for taking care of another person? Not an easy question. We want to be there for people, to be someone others can count on. We want to do the right thing. But how do we know what that is? Is there a difference between being present for someone and taking responsibility for them?
In the chalice lighting, Betty Lynn shared about how she wanted to protect her daughter from what she thought would be ruining her life. She was trying to do all she could to help her child. It turned out that the best help she could give was to be present to her daughter, and to respect her decision. If she had tried to remain her Daughter's Keeper, the teenager would have broken the relationship. The mother had to let her daughter take responsibility for herself.
In this story, the teenager, Rebecca, was trying to grow up. She was demanding her independence because she was ready to be on her own. Things can be different when, for whatever reason, the person can't be on his or her own. Sometimes others really are dependent and need our care. Are we then our Brother's Keepers? Let's see what that story might look like.
LEV – THE BRIDGE
The Bridge
by Edwin Friedman
Retold by Lev Ropes, February 2009
Once upon a time, not so long ago, maybe 200 years, and not so far away, there was a man who had thought a lot about what he wanted from life. He’d tried different ways of living, with his share of both success and failure, and, at last, he saw clearly where he wanted to go. He searched for the right opportunity. Sometimes he came close, but not quite. And then, finally, the absolutely right opportunity came and wouldn’t wait. He had only a short time to travel there.
With excitement our man started on his journey. With each thought about his goal, his heart beat quicker; with each vision of what lay ahead, he found renewed strength. He was on his way! His path led along a river and then to a bridge built high above a river. When crossing, he saw someone coming toward him. As they came closer, it seemed like the other one was coming to greet him. He could see clearly that he didn’t know this person. Then our man noticed that the stranger had a rope wrapped around himself many times(!?).
The stranger began to unwind the rope, and, just as they were coming together, the stranger said, “Pardon me, would you please be so kind as to hold this end a moment?” Surprised by this polite and curious request, our man agreed without a thought.
“Thank you,” said the stranger, who then added, “Two hands now, hold very tightly.”
Whereupon, the stranger climbed over the bridge rail and fell unwinding as he went.
Instinctively, our man held tight with all his might and was almost dragged over the side himself. He managed to brace himself against the rail, however, and hold. After catching his breath, he looked down at the stranger dangling below.
“What in the world are you trying to do?” he yelled.
“Just hold tight,” said the stranger.
Our man thought, “This is ridiculous,” and tried to haul the stranger back up. But he couldn’t.
“Why did you do this?”
“Remember,” said the stranger, “if you let go, I will be lost.”
“But I can’t pull you up,” the our man cried.
“I am your responsibility,” said the stranger.
“Well, I did not ask for it,”
“If you let go, I am lost,”
Our man looked all around for help. But there was no one. Why did this happen now, just as he was on the verge of true success? He searched for a place to tie the rope, but there was no way to get rid of this newfound burden, even temporarily.
“What is it you want?” he asked the stranger hanging below.
“Just your help.”
“How can I help? I can‘t pull you in, and there’s no place to tie the rope so that I can go and find someone to help.”
“I know that. Just hang on; that will be enough. Tie the rope around your waist; it’ll be easier.”
Fearing that his arms couldn’t hold out much longer, our man did tie the rope around his waist. “Why did you do this?” he asked again. “Don’t you see what you have done? What possible purpose could you have in mind?”
“Just remember,” said the stranger, “my life is in your hands.”
[To the audience:] “If I let go, all my life I will know that I let this stranger die. If I stay, I risk losing my own long-sought-after salvation where I can be of real value to myself and others. Either way this will haunt me forever.”
Time went by and still no one came along. The critical moment of decision was drawing near. To show his commitment to his own goals, which was part of the deal, he’d have to continue on his journey now. It was already almost too late. But what a terrible choice to have to make.
Then a new thought occurred to him. While our man couldn’t pull this stranger up, it dawned on him that actually, the stranger could pull himself up, so long as our man could manage to hold the rope.
“Now listen,” he shouted down. “I think I know how to save you. You can pull yourself up while I assist.” But the stranger wasn’t interested. “You mean you won’t help? I told you I can’t pull you up myself, and I don’t think I can hang on much longer either.”
“You must try,” the stranger shouted back in tears. “If you fail, I die.”
The point of decision arrived. What should he do? “My life or this stranger’s?” And then a new idea.
A revelation. So new, in fact, it seemed heretical, it was so alien to his traditional way of thinking.
“I want you to listen carefully,” he said, “because I mean what I am about to say. I will not let you drag me down nor accept responsibility for your life. I hereby give that responsibility back to you.”
“What do you mean?” the stranger asked, afraid.
“I mean, simply, it’s up to you. You decide which way this ends. I will hold tight, even pull some if I can.
You pull yourself up.” He began untieing the rope from around his waist and braced himselfagainst the side of the bridge.
“You can’t mean that!” the stranger shrieked. “You can’t be so selfish. I am your responsibility. What could be so important that you would let me die? Don’t do this to me!”
Our man waited a moment. There was no movement, no change in the tension of the rope.
At last our man said, “I accept your choice,” then let go and went on his way.
THE END OF THE STORY
Sounds shocking, doesn't it? How could our man possibly have let the stranger fall? How could letting go of the rope ever be the right thing to do?
We might try to keep the other person from falling, even if it's at great expense to us. It's instinctual to try to help people, thank goodness, because it's that caring that makes the world go 'round.
Things happen in life that leave us needing others' care. Perhaps an injury, an illness, depression, something leaves us vulnerable. We can't do all that we used to be able to do on our own. What a very scary place to be. No one wants to lose their independence. Having to give up even a little bit of control of our own lives leaves us at the mercy of others. Vulnerability can lead straight to anxiety.
People respond differently when facing this kind of situation. Sometimes a person's needs seem like demands. Other times a person radiates warmth and humor even when he or she is in a very vulnerable place.
These two people might both be in the same situation, and they might both be scared. Chances are that the one who is the radiator has more inner resources. For many reasons, some people have more resilience than others. They are better able to recover or adjust to adversity. They're inspirational, even when they're sick. Being around them is a joy. People who are resilient have a sense of peace about them. An acceptance of the situation. Not acceptance as in being resigned. More like an acceptance of reality. Acknowledging that something has happened, something I didn't ask for. My life might be forever changed. What can I do about it? Can I change the situation? Or can I adjust somehow? Resiliency allows us to move, however slightly, towards peace. Even the the midst of deep vulnerability,
Back to our story. When the stranger kept insisting that our man pull him up, our man knew that he wouldn't be able to do this on his own. He didn't want to abandon the other man, but he began to realize that if he stayed he wouldn't be able to continue on his journey towards his life's goal. Inner conflicts like this are petri dishes for all kinds of slimy, oozy emotions, none of which are pretty.
We go along, doing what we can to help. And then the way we really feel oozes under the surface. Emotions swell. Irritation builds. Something might erupt. We feel the, the ....We don't know what it is. We might have, as yet, no name for this gathering tidal of ooze. This does not make for harmony in the relationship.
Picture this. You're caring for someone you love. You've been doing this for a while. That person calls you, again. Then launches into the usual complaints, or lets you know that he needs something without actually asking for it. You find yourself rolling your eyes, shaking your head, sighing, holding the phone away from your ear. These are signs of the ooze. Your own voice might scream inside your head (or maybe into the phone) “I can't stand this any longer!” At this point, across the distance between the receiver and your ear you might hear an entirely different voice, an etherial one, beckoning, “This is your call to spiritual growth.” Hang up quick!
It's spiritual work to notice that the way we're interacting has some bristly irritation, which we likely are trying hard to hide. It takes courage to look inward long enough to be curious about things we don't want to be feeling. Resentment, anger, hostility even. This damages the relationship, and when things get really bad, can even break it.
When we're able to see our own resentment we have the opportunity to do something about it. We can ask ourselves what we are willing to do, and what we aren't. For the things that are taxing us too much we can look for reinforcements. No one person can handle everything on their own. Our man standing on the bridge realized he couldn't continue to hold the rope by himself, and looked for a hitching post to tie it to. He didn't find one, and so reluctantly consented to holding the rope by himself. All those who help need help ourselves.
This is what boundaries are about. In looking honestly at what I am willing to do and not do, I can say, “I'm willing to go this far.” Granted this line is a moving target, but we can still strive to become aware of it. On the other side of the boundary is the Land of Resentment, where monsters come to life inside of us. We don't want to go there. When we consciously set our boundaries we're less likely to end up in that place.
When our hearts are less tangled by resentment we can be more present to one another. The hymn earlier asked, “Will you be there for me, comfort me tenderly? Will you share some of your stories with me?” We can do this with one another when we're genuinely feeling warmly.
None of us can live in isolation, at least not well. Being there for each other is one of the privileges of being human. We honor one another when we open up and share our stories, let our soft spots be seen. This can be done when there is mutuality in the relationship. Both people must have an awareness of one another. Even the one who is in need of help can show interest in what's going on in the life of the other person. Mutuality is a back and forthness between two people. It's seeing beyond our own troubles, big as they might be. Mutuality is sharing in one another's lives. In this sharing we build relationship.
Each of us in on his or her own life journey. At some point along the way each of us will need help. There might come a time, temporary or not, when we aren't able to make it on our own, and have to depend on others. In this case, hopefully there will be someone there who is in the position to help. To make it along this journey we need companions as we travel. Being present to one another is truly a spiritual journey.