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Chapter 9
Pull Out the Arrow
If one comes across a person who has been shot by an arrow, one does not spend time wondering about where the arrow came from, or the caste of the individual who shot it, or analyzing what type of wood the shaft is made of, or the manner in which the arrowhead was fashioned. Rather, one should focus on immediately pulling out the arrow.
Shakyamuni, the Buddha1
One of my favorite places to practice medicine is in the high mountains of Papua, New Guinea, among the most ancient civilizations in the world. It is a population that was discovered by planes flying over the mountains during World War II. Every few years I get to visit their clinics, which have none of the conveniences of modern hospitals.
Some of the villages where I work take days to reach. A small plane deposits me on a rudimentary airstrip, and then it’s another one or two days’ hike into the jungle to reach the hospital. The tribes in these jungles have been at war with one another for thousands of years. And, while some of the villages have electricity and cars, they still settle their tribal differences with their weapon of choice: the bow and arrow.
Many of the injuries the hospitals treat involve warriors coming in with arrows sticking out of their chests. I have never asked, nor have I heard anyone on the medical staff ask, “Who shot you?” None of us has ever commented on the high quality of the arrow. Nor have we asked the victim, “What did you do to deserve this?” We have never said, “Can’t you find a more humane way to disagree?”
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Our job is to pull out the arrow.
This is something each of us can do for the people around us. Someone within your reach is grieving the loss of a loved one. That’s an arrow we can pull out by visiting with that person and offering to help. Someone within your reach is having difficulty getting to the bus stop. You can pull out that arrow by giving the person a ride. Someone is having difficulty finding a babysitter, or the money for a tank of gas, or a meal. Arrows. They are sticking out of people all around us, if we would only see them. It’s a matter of seeing and doing.
Everyone can do something.
Much of this book has been about changing the way we look at the world and our roles in it. Instead of seeing a world full of need and saying “I am overwhelmed by this,” we can see a world full of need and say “I can do something about this. I have something someone needs. I can help.”
Malcolm Gladwell, in his book The Tipping Point, said that dimensions of the world that seem so concrete (for instance, the belief that I have nothing to offer that could improve the world) can change when people see that change is possible, and that they can change their behavior and beliefs with the right kind of catalyst.
“Look at the world around you,” he writes. “It may seem like an immovable, implacable place. It is not. With the slightest push in just the right place it can be tipped.”2
In this book I have tried to show how natural it is for us to serve each other. It comes at a cost of money, time, and attention, but I hope by now readers can see that all of us have something to give, right now, that will help someone. In doing so, we address one of life’s fundamental questions, the one that was raised by the angel in Tolstoy’s story who asked “What do we live by?” What gives our lives purpose and meaning? Love for each other, taking care of each other, serving each other, that’s what we live by.
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Most people are willing to give when they see the need. Everyone can do something right now.
Madeleine L’Engle, one of the great children’s writers, tells of being interviewed by a Columbia University student. In answer to a question, L’Engle said that she does “small things which are daily put into my path to do, such as smiling at the dour man trying to deliver those boxes of groceries down the metal slide.” The student asked if that were self-serving.
“Is it?” L’Engle asks. “It may be, but if I cannot see the hungry people I pass each day, if I do not smile at the dour man, if I do not feed the stranger who comes to my door, or give a glass of cool water to the thirsty child, then I cannot see the starvation of people in India or South America. Perhaps if I see pictures on the news or in the papers of victims of earthquake, flood, or drought, I will write a small check for the cause of world hunger, and I may even refrain from meat on Wednesdays; but as long as I am responding to a cause it will not affect my entire life, my very breathing. It is only when I see hunger or thirst in one human being, it is only when I see discrimination and injustice in all its horrendous particularity as I walk along Broadway, that my very life can be changed.”3
She captures the essence of what it means to serve others. It isn’t about joining a cause, or starting a new relief effort. L’Engel sees that there are needs all around us every day, and we have the opportunity to meet those needs. That’s how we serve and love. That’s what we live by. There is an arrow within reach.
An elderly woman in my church, Mattie Uphaus, showed me the truth of this when, just a few years before she died, she told our congregation about growing up on a small farm in Kansas. At Christmas one year, the pastor of her little community church told about a family in the congregation that had very little—the children had barely enough to eat or wear, and certainly had no toys or money. His plea to the members was to make that family’s Christmas special.
As a little girl, Mattie discussed the plight of this poor family with her parents and siblings, and they committed to collecting some of their own money for these unfortunate people. They each sacrificed some coins when they could, and at the church service where the collection occurred, Mattie and her family proudly went to the front to deposit about $2.
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When it came time for the gifts to be delivered, Mattie said she got the shock of her life. It was her family the minister had been describing! It was for her family that the church had collected money.
“Apparently we were that poor and I didn’t know it!” she said to our laughing congregation. “And it was quite a letdown. The joy for us was in conspiring to give. It wasn’t nearly as much fun to receive.” What struck me about her story was the response of her family members when they first heard about this “poor” family. They knew they could give something. Everyone has something to give. We can all start where we are.
Something happens to us when we begin to live in service to others. Our lives make more sense. When Mitch Albom began visiting his dying professor, Morrie Schwartz, Mitch wrote “I liked myself better when I was there.”4 He liked himself better because he realized that this is what we are put on this earth to do. Morrie taught Mitch some valuable lessons, especially through some of the last words Morrie uttered on earth: “Love each other or die.”5
By visiting Morrie, by bringing him groceries each Tuesday, by simply listening to him, Mitch served Morrie, and Mitch discovered the power and purpose in that action. He gave his world a push in the right direction, as Gladwell would say, and his world changed for the better.
Something else happens when we serve others. I believe that when we look to others’ needs, we can experience a transcendence that connects us to a far bigger world. Rabbi Lawrence Kushner (no relation to Harold Kushner) said: “Everyone carries with them at least one and probably many pieces to someone else’s puzzle. Sometimes they know it; sometimes they don’t know it. And when you present your piece, which is worthless to you, to another, whether you know it or not, whether they know it or not, you are a messenger from the Most High.”6
By pulling out the arrow, by serving others, by loving others, we provide a piece to life’s puzzle that everyone is searching for. We help someone and discover there is power in doing so— power to live as we were meant to live. That’s what Mother Teresa discovered when she began serving the poorest of the poor. It’s what Pete O’Neal discovered when he and Charlotte began serving their community. It’s what the Larsons discovered when they began providing water to their village. It’s what Mattie Up-haus discovered when she sacrificed for that “poor” family.
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In a commencement address to university students, Anne Lamott gave graduates the following advice: “First, find a path and a little light to see by. Then push up your sleeves and start helping. Every single spiritual tradition says that you must take care of the poor, or you are so doomed that not even Jesus or the Buddha can help you. You don’t have to go overseas. There are people in this country who are poor in spirit, worried, depressed, dancing as fast as they can; their kids are sick, or their retirement savings are gone. There is great loneliness among us, life-threatening loneliness. People have given up on peace, on equality. . . . You do what you can, what good people have always done: you bring thirsty people water, you share your food, you try to help the homeless find shelter, you stand up for the underdog.”7
We can’t wait any longer for government to fill the gaps. We’ve seen what happens when we leave it to institutions. Handouts aren’t the answer. Our presence is the answer. When we leave serving others to government and corporations, we lose the opportunity to find meaning and significance in our own lives.
What can each of us do? Look around you. We are the people others have been waiting for.
Now look in your hand. See that plant on the cover of this book? It’s growing. The power of serving others starts now.
Right where you are.