In 2010, a horrific incident happened in New York City. A woman was accosted by a man on the street. Another man named Hugo Tax-Yale stopped to help her, but he was then stabbed by the woman’s assailant. The woman ran off in one direction and the assailant in the other. Hugo fell to the ground and lay bleeding and dying. Many people walked past this man, but nobody stopped to help him, hours later, when someone finally stopped to check him, he was already dead.

Of course, the question that immediately springs to mind is: Why did nobody help him?

Did nobody notice that a man they were walking past was bleeding to death on the street? Were these people totally, morally devoid? There are two main sociological reasons why nobody stopped to help him, and both are troubling.

1) The bystander effect

This is when, for example, you see someone lying unconscious on the street, but because everyone else is just walking by them, you assume it is okay. You think to yourself, perhaps someone else is doing something about it? The amount of people on the scene diffuses individual responsibility, and so people tend to just ignore the situation.

2) The blasé attitude

This social phenomenon is most often seen in cities and centers of culture and civilization. The term “the blasé attitude” was coined by a German urban sociologist called Georg Simmel. He argued that, for people who live in the city, there is so much stimuli going on around them all the time, that they eventually have to shut down and begin to ignore everything that is happening around them in order to stay sane in their environment. They become “blasé”; they determine not to be affected by anything, because if they allow themselves to care, it will crush them. This leads to a highly individualized society where people look out for their own needs but not for the need of others. Because post-modern people, (particularly city dwellers) have so much stimuli to deal with every day, they subconsciously or consciously choose to ignore those around them who are suffering.

When we start to allow the “blasé attitude” to creep into our psyche, we begin to reduce the value of human life.

The example I gave in the first paragraph of how a man was allowed to bleed and die on the street in New York, while hundreds of people walked past him, is a perfect example of this. Of course, this incident reminds me of the parable of the Good Samaritan found in the gospel of Luke.

Let’s look at this parable below. Jesus said:

“A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘And when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’ ‘Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?’ The expert in the law replied, ‘The one who had mercy on him.’ Jesus told him, ‘Go and do likewise.’”

In this parable, the priest and the Levite are like our modern-day, well-educated, enlightened city dwellers. They have all of their well-thought out reasons for passing by the bleeding man: Perhaps their religious beliefs were a deterrent; perhaps they simply didn’t have the time, or perhaps they felt the bleeding man was a vagrant or of a different race. But whatever their reasons for not stopping, their actions show they simply didn’t think the bleeding man mattered enough to be helped.

Jesus highlights the kindness of the Samaritan. A race of people who were despised by the Jews, and yet in all their intellect, the priest and the Levite had allowed themselves to become blasé about the suffering of the man, while the Samaritan simply saw a fellow human in need and cared enough to help. Jesus quite simply ends the parable by saying, “Go and do likewise.”

When I think about the terrible suffering and human degradation in this world, I am tempted to become blasé. I don’t want to think about the reality of the suffering of the broken people in my city because it is too crushing for me. But I need to remember that there are things in life that I cannot be blasé about, because somethings are sacred. In a world that wants to laugh about everything (because if we don’t laugh, we might just cry) I want to remember that somethings are not funny. Somethings matter too much to be blasé about, such as human lives that I pass on the street every day. I want to remind myself to care.

In 2 Corinthians 12:9-10 it says: “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

I admit today how weak I am.

I find it hard to face the sufferings of those people I see on the streets, I want to be blasé because it seems easier. I want to let them be somebody else’s problem. But! Thank God, when I am weak, He is strong, He is strong in me. God called us to care about our “neighbors,” to love them as we love ourselves. But He has not left us to try and do it in our own strength; He has filled us with His strength and love and grace, so that we can pour it out on others.

Today, let’s pray to God to give us strength to care more, not less. Let’s look at the people around us, and in the light of the Gospel, see them as our responsibility. Because they are our responsibility; we have been instructed to love them. Let’s stop ignoring and being blasé, and let’s remember that there are things that are sacred, things that cannot be pulled down into the mud of the mundane. Jesus Christ is sacred, and He died for us. Jesus is our good Samaritan; He didn’t walk by us when we were in need. He stopped and tended to our wounds. He paid for our restoration and is coming back for us. So let’s see the people we pass by on the street the way God sees them, and He sees them as precious enough to die for. He has put His love in us, so let’s share it in practical ways in our community today.

Even though I know it comes every year, I find that winter sneaks up on me. Often it’s the holiday season that distracts me. Life is busy, and so I grab a sweater before I’m off. Inevitably the day will come when I’ll step outside, and my heaviest winter clothing just isn’t enough. I’ve got to pull out my winter coat because the wind cuts through my clothing, and the chill clings to my bones. Days like that inspire thankfulness for a warm café or even a full city bus that serves as an escape from bitter wind and icy temperatures.

Thankfully the winters in Paris are not usually extreme, but in January 1954, temperatures descended below zero degrees Fahrenheit.

The Seine River slushed through the city center with floating plaques of ice and snow. Twenty-nine percent of Parisians didn’t have running water or electricity as the work of reconstruction after WWII was far from complete.

In the suburbs of the capitol, hastily erected shanty towns were made of wagons, tents and abandoned construction material to keep up with the demands of an ever-growing population and much needed new work force.¹ The government worked to find a solution to the housing crisis and shelter for its people, but the talks were slowed down by conflicting political rhetoric leaving countless French people in deplorable conditions.

On the night of January 3, a three-month-old baby named Marc died in his mother’s arms. The tragic passing of the child happened the night the General Assembly rejected a plan to open up funding for emergency housing. The news profoundly shocked the nation, but the legislative stalemate on emergency housing remained frozen.

In response to governmental inertia, a local priest, Henri Marie Joseph Grouès, affectionately known as Abbé Pierre, published an open letter in the Figaro.

He used the conservative newspaper to call on the government to take notice of the humanitarian crisis and join the funeral procession. An answer came. Maurice Lemaire, Minister of Reconstruction and Housing, attended the funeral cortege for the deceased infant on January 12 and later relayed his horror of the misery he witnessed.²

In the days to follow, the temperature plunged even lower and no political agreement could be reached. On February 1, 1954, a woman who’d been evicted from her Parisian apartment the day before was found dead clutching her eviction notice on Boulevard Sebastopol. Like many at that time, she was left to find shelter where she could and was caught by the sub-zero temperatures. Some hid in metro stations, others received blankets from various goodwill associations that she apparently hadn’t been informed of.
A profound sense of indignation swept over the city. How many more lives would be lost? How much longer would it take for the authorities to act? By the suggestion of a journalist, Abbé Pierre decided to make another appeal for help. This time he wouldn’t address the lawmakers or write to the conservative elite. His plan was a call for help through the radio by what he would call an “Insurrection of Kindness.”

He called the office of Radio Luxembourg, a large independent radio station, but was met with a bureaucratic obstacle. He was told he couldn’t just come in and interrupt the programming at the drop of a hat; there was protocol to be adhered to.

Abbé Pierre reasoned with them. “Tomorrow morning when you open your newspaper in your warm apartment with your cup of coffee, and you read about more men, women and children gathered up in the streets dead from the cold, you will have to admit, it’s your fault because you let yourself be detoured by a few administrative procedures.”³

Success. The green light was given, and Abbé Pierre was accorded less than an hour to traverse Paris and make his appeal.

“My friends, help…a woman has just died, frozen last night at three in the morning on the sidewalk of Boulevard Sebastopol, clutching the paper by which the day before she’d been evicted. Tonight, there are more than 2,000 poor souls under the ice, without roofs, without bread and quite a few almost naked…”⁴

That day the Insurrection of Kindness was born. A record number of gifts flooded in totaling in today’s economy in the millions of dollars. Money, food, clothing, furniture, tents, overflowed at the drop off point. Private citizens, government officials, ex-pats like Charlie Chaplin gave generously, and the movement appeared to inspire the government to push through to meet the immediate need.⁵

Abbé Pierre was no ordinary parish priest. He was a resistance fighter in WWII; he saved the lives of several Jews from the Nazis, and he became a political figure, even meeting President Roosevelt the same year he gave his radio appeal.

He became the founder of a movement called Emmaüs, a symbol for the fight for social justice, and in the end a political figure. Whenever a religious person gets involved at that level, fans and enemies blur the lines that render it difficult to make a perfect hero out of him. But that wintery day in 1954, he seized the open door set before him.

When I look at his story, it encourages me that a Christian rose up to meet the need of the day that no one else in a more powerful position was able to do.

In so doing, the name of Christ was used to meet the needs of a desperate population and bring about a social consciousness to those that could help. It inspires me as I think about this New Year before us. Who knows what lies ahead, but maybe an opportunity will present itself that we can step into by God’s grace. Maybe we can see new Insurrections of Kindness in our own places of ministry, see Jesus do great things with simple people. It’s my hope for 2018.

¹“L’histoire de l’Abbé Pierre et d’Emmaüs” – Archive INA
²“The Killer Winter”
³“Abbé Pierre – l’appel du 1er février 1954”
⁴“L’appel du 1er février 1954”
⁵“The Insurrection of Kindness”

She was tall and thin, had delicate, freckly skin, and curly, strawberry-blonde hair that was perfectly poofy. Her hair and her sense of style were a perfect fit for back then, the year was 1988. You could always spot her red Toyota RX7 parked in the parking lot of Desert Hot Springs Elementary. Her name was Ms. Nelson, she was my 6th grade teacher, and she was cool!

6th grade was a hard year for me. Well, really being 12 is hard for any kid, especially girls. It’s the age where everything changes physically, emotionally, psychologically, and every other “-ly” you can think of. I started to realize that, despite my parents’ best intentions of instilling confidence in me, I really wasn’t the best at everything. I constantly had to compete against the red head with the perfectly coiffed locks everyday, for first chair in flute, AND for the lead in the school play. And contrary to what we were all told in Kindergarten, everyone is not your friend. I struggled with making friends, being myself, and not sucking my thumb during class. Oh, did I forget to mention the part about me sucking my thumb until I was about 13, yeah, that wasn’t helpful either.

Ms. Nelson was a beacon of sweetness and comfort during this trying time called the 6th grade. She probably didn’t think she did anything all that spectacular. She sure was memorable to me though. Recently, I was looking through some old school work of mine. While I was thumbing through the pages, noticing just how bubbly my writing used to be and how many times I doodled Gumby with a surfboard (the only doodle I knew), I came across some familiar little slips of pale, pink paper. These papers were only a little larger than a post-it note and were probably scraps leftover from printing up notes home to parents.

But, on them were lovely, cursive writing with messages such as, “You are doing a great job…Keep your head up…Smile…I’m proud of you!” They were always finished off with a signature, teacher-styled happy face. These brought back memories of hard days that were brightened ever so slightly by Ms. Nelson’s little, pink notes. The funny thing is, even though I look back so fondly on these little slips of encouragement, I wonder if Ms. Nelson ever thought much of them. To her, maybe she just noticed a sad, young girl, grabbed a scrap of paper, wrote a little encouragement, and thought nothing of it. Quite possibly, she had no idea how much easier those sweet messages made my life as a 6th grader. Evidenced by the fact that I kept all of them, she had a huge impact on me.

What sort of impact are you having today? You don’t have to stand up on a stage, speaking to thousands, to be an encouragement to someone.

I learned from my Mom that if someone comes to your mind, God is putting them on your heart, and you should pray for them. Usually when someone comes to my mind, I like to send them a little text that lets them know I am thinking of them and praying for them. I’ve also been on the receiving end of these texts, and I am just so humbled when I hear that someone is praying for me. There is just something special about knowing that someone who may or may not know what you are going through is bringing your name before God and pleading on your behalf. These little prayers are like Ms. Nelson’s little, pink notes filled with kind words of encouragement, an unexpected little blessing in the middle of an unfortunate day. While she may have thought they were insignificant, I still have them tucked away, and she has a special place in my heart.

“Kind words are like honey – sweet to the soul and healthy for the body” (Proverbs 16:24).

God has given us a desire to connect with others. We live in a time where our technological connections make it easier than ever before to maintain those ties of friendship! You can send someone a Facebook message, tag them in an encouraging Instagram post, or just send them a text. If you want to take the old-fashioned route (which is my personal favorite), send someone a card. You know, those pieces of paper that you write on with a pen, then send it to their actual house! It’s always nice to find a personal card between the bills and grocery coupons. It really doesn’t matter which method you choose, you have the potential today to inspire, encourage, and spur someone on in their walk with Jesus.

I challenge you to just go for it!