Today I read a story about a WWII vet who was recently carjacked, in broad daylight, at a busy Detroit gas station only to be left alone to crawl across the dirty concrete lot to get help. His leg was broken during the attack as he was forcefully knocked down by a despicable coward. The man, Aaron Brantley, is 86 years old and the father of eight children with 18 grandchildren. Interestingly, he described the experience not as one where he was just attacked, but as one where his need for help went unheeded. He said:
"People were passing me just like I wasn't there...I was crawling and they just walk by me like I'm not there," he said. Ironically, he was on his way home from Bible study.
He continued: "I was trying to go in...and see if somebody could call the police and an ambulance because I couldn't stand. I had to crawl - I tried two or three times to get up." I shudder at the fact that not a single passerby chose to stop and bend down to give succor to a man in need. So high in their own interests, such spiritless people would rather move with the wind instead of against it, which, in the end, only really fans the eternal, harrowing flame of regret. Like the rich man who denied Lazarus, those who choose to deny the downtrodden will soon find their own selves looking up, tormented, begging for aid, and finding none. The Savior warned of this state of apathy and its consequences to the world.
"And because iniquity shall abound, the love of many shall wax cold." -Matthew 24:12
St. Martin of Tours, the "glory of Gaul," is a venerated Christian who, like Job, eschewed evil and followed the Lord in all things. As the son of a Roman veteran, he began his own service in the army at the tender age of fifteen. The story is told that as he rode towards the town of Amiens, France one bitter, winter day, he noticed at the gates a poor man, thinly clad, shivering with cold, and begging. Moved with compassion as well as surprise that none who passed ever stopped to help, he realized he had nothing to give but the clothes he had on. So, rather than move on like everyone else, he drew his sword from its scabbard and cut his fine woolen cloak in two, offering the one half to the beggar. Later that night, while Martin slept, he thought he saw Jesus, surrounded by angels, dressed in the half-cloak he had given away. He then heard a voice asking him to look and say whether he recognized it. Jesus then proudly pronounced before His angels, "Here is Martin, the man who has covered me with his cloak."
We would all do well to consider the beggars among us and always be ready to aid those in need. A virtuous life is the one where thoughts of self do not count first. It is said that a certain blind man once sat by the way side of Jericho, begging. And when the multitude passed by, this man was rebuked for not "holding his peace." But there was One among the crowd who heard his cry and then acted.
40 And Jesus stood, and commanded him to be brought unto him: and when he was come near, he asked him,
41 Saying, What wilt thou that I shall do unto thee? And he said, Lord, that I may receive my sight.
42 And Jesus said unto him, Receive thy sight: thy faith hath saved thee.
43 And immediately he received his sight, and followed Him, glorifying God: and all the people, when they saw it, gave praise unto God. (Luke 18:35-43)
How sad that a "multitude" of individuals, in a moment of opportunity, failed to show in themselves the same compassion as the Savior which they had surely already seen, felt, and heard by His instruction! It was also He who first drove all the larger beasts out of the Temple with a scourge of small cords only to ask them that sold the doves to, "Take these things hence." (John 2:16) In other words, Christ singled out the doves to be taken out. The dove. A symbol for love and peace. Even in a state of chaos and confusion the Master still showed compassion.
As a nation, are we choosing to drive the doves [beggars] out of our own midst with a whip of indifference? Do we rebuke faster than we relieve? Furthermore, do we prefer to keep down those who need our help by ignoring their pleas? Who knows, maybe one day the Master Himself will crawl before us on a stony lot, disguised as an elderly man, bruised and broken, looking for cover in the comfort of a cloak. Will we then choose to hang our sword over him in censure of his pitiful state, or be moved with compassion to cut our own robe in two?
Long live the fighters
