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The next few minutes were
filled with more challenges as Dan got out of his wheelchair again to
tackle two more steps and wobble along a narrow plank that bridged the gap between the dock and the
vessel.
After we were safely on
the boat, I heard a woman ask, "Are you going to stay on
the lower deck?"
It was Captain Stubing. She was leaning against the
ship's railing with hands
crossed and a mind so afraid of liability that she failed to see the possibility
of what she could do to help.
"Will there be anyone else
on the lower deck?" I asked.
The woman shook her head.
"We're going to sit on the upper level with everyone else," I
announced.
Although I was
determined to give Dan the same view as the
other passengers, my
resolve wavered when an
employee took his wheelchair to stow it on board and
I stared at the twenty feet of open space that lay
between us and the stairs.
"Should I get your chair back?" I asked.
"Just let me hold onto
your shoulder," Dan replied as the
crew members looked on in silence.
How can he stay so calm? I wondered after
pausing midway across the deck so Dan could catch his breath.
After just one day of living with his disability,
I wanted to scream
yet Dan
seemed to take it all in stride. How?
It was at that
moment, while resisting
the urge to speak up
on my friend’s behalf, that I realized why Dan did not.
He’s used to this,
I said to myself as we resumed our trek across the floor. Dan tolerates the
intolerable indifference of others because it’s what he lives with on a daily
basis.
This revelation made me both sad and mad and I looked
around for someone—anyone—to help.
On page 29 of his book The Tipping Point: How Little
Things Can Make a Big Difference, author Malcolm Gladwell explains that the
"key to getting people to change their behavior, in other words, to care about
their neighbor in distress, sometimes lies with the smallest details of their
immediate situation."
For one crew member named Rudy, that small detail must
have been direct eye contact with a passenger as my gaze met his and he stepped out from behind the snack bar to ask, "Would you like to use
the elevator?"
Dan
and I froze mid-step to glance, first at each other, and then at Rudy in
disbelief.
You
have an elevator and no one told us!
I wanted to scream.
Why do some people make life so hard for others when
it is in their power to do otherwise? Do they really want to see a disabled man
weave and bob his way across a moving boat when he could roll effortlessly
across it?
My questions reminded me
again of Malcolm Gladwell’s book where, on page 28, the author told about
two New York City psychologists who conducted a series of studies to understand what they dubbed as the
"bystander problem." According to Gladwell,
what Bibb Latane of Columbia University and John Darley
of New York University learned during those studies was that "the one factor
above all else that predicted helping behavior was how many witnesses there were
to the event."
"When people are in a
group," the psychologists explained, "…responsibility for acting is diffused.
They assume that someone else will make the call, or they assume that because no
one else is acting, the apparent problem … isn’t really a problem."
Thankfully, Rudy went
against these findings to alleviate, rather than invalidate, our dilemma; and Dan
was able to watch the sun set on
the Chicago
skyline
with the other passengers. Two hours later, we were back at the dock, ready to get off the boat.
"Let’s wait until it’s
less crowded," Dan suggested after the walkway in front of the elevator
filled with passengers waiting for their turn to descend the stairs.
"I’ll find someone to
help," I said a few minutes later when only a handful of people remained on
the upper deck and we realized that none of them were crew members.
"Excuse me," I said to the
first employee I saw, "my friend is still upstairs and needs the elevator to
bring him down."
Unsure of what to do, the
man went to find help. As I waited for his return,
Rudy appeared and again sprang into action without my having to ask.
"Thank you," Dan said a
few minutes later as he wheeled his chair onto the lower deck.
"You're welcome," Rudy
replied while holding the elevator door open. "Would you like me to carry your
wheelchair up the stairs?"
"That would be great," Dan
confirmed.
What happened in the
minutes that followed touched my heart. Rudy carried the wheelchair up all
sixty-one steps while walking at Dan’s pace, rather than his own. As I watched
the two men carry on a conversation while climbing the stairs together, I realized that my attitude about the evening had
changed.
From now on, whenever I
thought of this night I would remember, not the many crew members who refused
to help, but the one employee who did.
"Have a good night," Rudy
said after placing the wheelchair on the sidewalk at the top of the stairs.
"You too," Dan replied as
he sat down and released the brake.
If one person
can change how another person sees an entire situation, I debated as I
grabbed hold of Dan's chair and began pushing it down the street, why do so many of us
hold back when a chance to help rolls our way?
I was still asking myself this question when I noticed
that we were being watched by a man dressed in a security guard uniform.
My concern turned to panic
when he crossed the street and stopped us
to say, "My wallet was stolen and I need some money to
get home."
Who would steal from a security guard?
I wondered. And if he did lose his wallet, why doesn’t he go back to where he
works and ask someone there to help?
The absurdity of the man’s situation made me question
my obligation to help. It also made me wonder about the danger we were in. With
Dan in a wheelchair, I knew I couldn’t run or
stop the man if he wanted more than I gave him when I opened my purse.
Too afraid to do something, I
opted to do nothing as I pushed Dan away from the guard and called out over my
shoulder, "I’m sorry but we can’t help you."
The man did not to follow
as we hurried to the parking garage where
my van was waiting. I thought I would feel relief when we were safely inside the
vehicle. Instead, I was overcome with remorse as I realized that I was no different than the
woman who refused to help Dan down the stairs. The same fear of consequences
that had kept her from helping us with our situation, had caused me to race off
without helping the security guard with his.
I was afraid, I
said to myself, trying to justify my behavior.
So were they,
the Spirit whispered.
It’s hard to become jaded
by humanity when you realize you’re part of it. Romans 3:23 assures us
that "all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God". Thankfully, Romans 8:1
releases us from the shame of our unacceptable behavior with a reminder that there is
"no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus". Instead, there is
freedom to pick ourselves up and try again, not out of obligation, but in
celebration of what Christ has done for our sinful souls.
Like the words to the song
The Blessing by John Waller, our actions have the power to bless or
create a mess in the lives of others. While the choice is ours to make, only
those who stop blaming and start identifying with people and their circumstances
will see how the indifference of many can be overcome by the care and concern of
one who is willing to step out of his comfort zone, and lend a hand.
Quotes to Grow On
"The reason that most of us seem to have
a consistent character is that most of us are really good at controlling our
environment."
Malcolm Gladwell, The
Tipping Point,
p. 163
"there are specific situations so
powerful that they can overwhelm our inherent predispositions ... you can take
normal people from good schools and happy families and good neighborhoods and
powerfully affect their behavior merely by changing the immediate details of
their situation."
Malcolm
Gladwell, The Tipping Point,
pp. 154-155 |
