I’d reach out to my neighbour if she weren’t so near the brink

Firefighters cannot save a person’s life from a distance. They must climb the ladder to the scarily high window to help the person stuck the return to terra firma. They must approach the vehicle that might explode in order to extract the occupant trapped within. They must enter into the very heart of the blaze to rescue the baby unable to help himself. Firefighters must willingly and carefully put themselves in harms way if they are to be helpful.

I too, would reach out to my neighbour, if she weren’t so near the brink. Her life is falling apart. There is angry fall-out on all sides. If I approach her I might alienate mutual friends that don’t understand her situation fully. When she lashes out in anger she aims at whatever is close by; should I approach her, I might get bonked in the nose. I don’t want to get bonked in the nose. She is filled with a soul deep sorrow that spills out in sobs, tears and profound silence that seems to suck in anyone that tries to cheer her up. I do not want to feel her sorrow, lest her tears spill onto me and cause me to cry as well. Most frightening of all, if I try to help, I am afraid that I might make things worse for her, that I might not only drive her closer to the brink, but that I might cause her to go over the edge. I don’t want to make her go over the edge because I am afraid of the guilt, or that she might drag me over with her.

My uncle was a missionary. He served in Amazonia, Brazil. In his years there he taught and fed the native population, healed them, helped them. He did not do so as a black-robed priest breathing God’s heavenly wrath upon them. He entered their midst, learned their language, lived as they lived. When he came to visit me and my family in Canada one summer, we fully expected he would revel in the middle class accommodations we provided. We especially thought he would appreciate my nice flat be. We were wrong; in his years of living in Amazonia, he had become accustomed to sleeping in a hammock. He had gone over the brink to immerse himself into the culture, helping and working from within, meeting the needs of the people he served in ways that they understood and could appreciate.

In my uncle’s case, he did go over the brink; during his time there he developed an infection that eventually led to his death. There were no regrets, however; he would have remained in Brazil had it not been so far from his family. It was a risk he knew going into his service, one he took willingly, because it costs more to do nothing than to give one’s all.

There is a certain degree of risk in any situation. Firefighters don’t go into the danger-zone unprotected. They don masks and breathing apparatus, heavy coats and boots before putting their lives on the line. And they go only where they are trained to go and do what they are trained to do. You would no more see a firefighter going to fight an outbreak of Ebola than you would see a member of the Center for Disease Control enter a burning building. We mitigate our risk by reaching out to those we can help using our own peculiar and particular gifts. We don the appropriate protective gear, girding ourselves emotionally and prayerfully, receiving whatever training might be necessary for certain situations. And sometimes we simply make ourselves present, going to sit at the side the neighbour or stranger in need so that they least know they are loved and not alone.

Perhaps the greatest risk of reaching out is having our hearts broken, either because we cannot help, or because our help is not enough. But reaching out is not about us; it is about the other person. Allowing our fears to keep us from stepping near the brink is understandable, but not acceptable. Jumping in without thinking isn’t always the best idea either, but sometimes it’s the only way to break through our worries and hesitation. The edge might seem awfully close, but it’s the place to be if we are to make a difference. A leap of faith may be involved. It’s worth making the jump, worth extending our hand, worth approaching the danger zone. Sometimes the only thing we can do is to reach out to our neighbours precisely because they are so close to the brink.