By Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel
CHULA VISTA, California –One of the most memorable experiences I had growing up in the Orthodox Jewish world, as a young man, was the sanctity the community placed on human life. In matters of Kashrut and Shabbat, there was little compromise among the Hassidic and Haredi communities. They live in a world of binary opposites where the shades of gray hardly exist when it comes to their personal conduct. Yet, in matters of ritual, ritual goes out the window when a human life needs saving.
With this thought in mind, let us take focus on something that happened the other day in the city of Bakersfield, California. According to news reports, an 87-year old woman died in Bakersfield, California because a nurse at the facility refused to give her CPR. The nurse called 911 when the woman collapsed and was barely breathing. The dispatcher asked the nurse to start CPR until the paramedics arrived. Apparently, some rule in the nursing home barred the nurse—or any staff person—from administering CPR.
Appealing to the nurse’s sense of humanity, the 911 dispatcher pleads with the nurse to help; she says, ““We can’t wait. She can’t wait right now. She is stopping breathing. Is there anybody there that’s willing to help this lady and not let her die?”
But the nurse responds, “Um, not at this time . . . ” After the paramedics arrived, she was gone.
The senseless death of a human being ought to override the “rules.” For while, if the events occurred as reported, the nurse did not break the nursing home facility’s rules, she broke God’s rules: You shall not stand idly by the blood of your neighbor: I am the Lord (Lev. 19:16).
Sounds simple enough, doesn’t? So why didn’t they help the woman? Perhaps they were afraid the family might sue in the event of negligence. Still and all, how can someone doing nothing for seven minutes not be morally and ethically considered “negligent”?
According to the Jewish philosopher Emanuel Levinas, whenever a human face calls out to me. I can only respond with the words, “Here I am ….” We might wonder: “Why should I feel responsible in the presence of another person’s face?” But that is precisely why Cain asks of God: “Am I my brother’s keeper?” Cain was not being sarcastic or coy with his question to God. Quite the contrary: Cain’s question reveals to us that he is a man who has yet to learn and appreciate the importance of human solidarity. Cain feels as though each person lives solely for oneself and that everything is permitted. He has no idea what it means to be responsible for another human being.
Although Cain’s answer is sincere, his question reveals that he lacks a conscience; he is out of touch with his own humanity. He doesn’t understand that the human face is special because it bears a trace of God. Yet, God holds Cain accountable—not because of any verbal commandments instructing how not to behave toward his brother. Levinas writes, “The human face is different, speaks out, and speaks to me without words, ‘Look at me, I am a human being much like yourself. Respect me as you would want to be respected.’”
Sometimes, the request for respecting our humanity doesn’t even need to be verbally articulated. Human life is too sacred—at any age—for us to act with indifference. There is an interesting question that is asked in the Halachic literature: Why isn’t there a blessing said before a person gives tsedakah (charity) to another? The answer is simple: The poor man may die between the time it takes for the giver to say his blessing, and the time it takes for the poor man to obtain a crust of bread for food.
It seems to me that something like this occurred in Bakersfield. Maybe the time has come for us to hold convalescent homes to this modicum of human decency and ethics. Our failure to condemn this incident makes us morally guilty as responsible. As Levinas says, the human face—if nothing else—demands a kind and compassionate response.
*
Rabbi Samuel is spiritual leader of Temple Beth Shalom in Chula Vista. He may be contacted at michael.samuel@sdjewishworld.com