An American Story: Three Scrooges and a Good Old Man

Once upon a time Rich Doubter stood up to a believer who claimed that he knew Jesus. Rich Doubter asked, “You say you know Jesus, but I don’t believe you. Why should I?”

Believer took a Bible from his pocket. He held up the Bible and said, “Here’s why?” Thinking to mock Believer, Rich Doubter asked, “Since you know Jesus, tell me what I must do to inherit eternal life.”

Believer answered, “Love your neighbor as yourself. Love them with all your heart and with all your soul. But love is not enough. With all your strength and with all your mind you must protect people from evil men who seek to harm them just as Jesus protected women from evil men who would harm them.”

“And if I do that I shall inherit eternal life?”

“What I know is that if you do nothing, you will have lived a worthless life unworthy of inheriting eternal life. You will die a rich man but spiritually poor. To others you will be nothing. The worth of your life will be less worth less than a piece of trash blown in the wind.”

“At least if I do nothing I will not be evil.”

“There are two kinds of evil—lesser and greater. The person who does evil commits the greater evil and becomes evil. The person who does nothing to prevent evil when he could do something commits the lesser evil. He may be less evil than the evildoer, but he is also less good as a person, perhaps not good at all. His evil is selfishness and may also be cowardliness. Such a man is worthless, unworthy of any kind of life much less eternal life. His only value is to himself; thus he is worthless to everyone else. He is worthless even to himself though he may think otherwise.”

“And Jesus told you this?”

“He showed me by living the life of a good man. Can you tell me who in the Bible betrayed goodness only to become a rich?”

“Judas?”

“You have answered correctly. Tell me, is that the kind of life you would want to live even if there is no eternal life?”

“Of course not.”

“Judas was unworthy of eternal life, but perhaps there is no such thing, just words. But tell me this. If there is no eternal life, then is Jesus nothing, just a man who once lived and died because there were no good men brave enough to save him?”

“No. He’s not nothing.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because he helped others. He died because he was trying to help others to live spiritual lives.”

“I'm thinking Rich Doubter that you know something of the Bible. So can you tell me how does the poor man Jesus compare to the rich man Solomon? Solomon had riches and women beyond counting and Jesus was a poor man who loved women but only sought to protect them not to use them as Solomon did.”

“Compared to the good works of Jesus, Solomon’s wealth and all his wives and concubines add up to nothing truly good.”

“But the Bible says King Solomon was not only rich but wiser than any other king in the world.”

“Perhaps kings were not so wise when compared to real wisdom. Solomon threatened to cut a baby in half to reveal the real mother. That was a clever stunt but doesn’t make him wise. What would he have done if both mothers agreed? In those days, when kings gave their word they were bound by it as when Herod said to the girl Salome, ‘Ask me for anything you like and I will give it to you.’ Salome asked her mother Queen Herodias for advice, and she said, ‘Ask for the head of John the Baptist,’ whom she hated. Herod actually liked John the Baptist and didn’t want him killed, but he had to keep to his word. Emerson said, ‘Foolish consistencies are the hobgoblin of little minds,’ so maybe kings aren't all that wise. 

“I think that had Solomon been wealthy and wise he would have told the two women that one can keep the baby and the other will be given a free house and a stipend to live on so she won’t have to continue being a prostitute. I think the jealous prostitute would have gone for the house and stipend, and the nonsense of cutting the baby in half could have been avoided. And then he could have done the same for the baby’s real mother. That way the problem could have been solved with everyone being happy. But Solomon was too in love with his wealth to see that option. And he would still be evil for collecting women as sex toys, and though he was filthy rich we hear nothing about him helping the poor as Jesus did. Solomon thought being poor was virtuous, but he knew nothing about what it's like to be poor. If Solomon had been virtuous he would have helped the poor rather than praise them.”

“For a rich man you are pretty wise yourself. So tell me what parable of Jesus that best reflects Jesus’s values.”

“It would have to be the parable of the Good Samaritan, which is about helping others.”

“And when asked who these others are, what does Jesus say?”

“Our neighbors, I believe.”

“You have answered correctly.”

“And then Jesus tells the story of the Good Samaritan. Yet, who was a Samaritan?”

“Yes, that was a long time ago, so perhaps we should update the story with people we do know.”

“Let’s do. That sounds interesting.”

“Then let’s begin. A Ukrainian family, a man and wife and three children, were going to the beautiful city Kyiv to shop for the week and enjoy the beauties of the city when they were attacked by Orc robbers from Russia. Today Orcs are everywhere in Ukraine. These men are malevolent brutes who prey upon innocent families, even destroying their homes and cities. They raped and killed the wife and kidnapped the children. They left the man alive to suffer as Job suffered, but stripped him of his clothes, beat him then went away with his children.”

“The poor man. He must have suffered greatly.”

“Of course he did, but the attack did not go unnoticed. It was observed by three men. The three men were Money Man, Gadget Man, and Soldier Boy. Rich Man loved money above all else. Gadget Man loved his gadgets. And Soldier Boy loved being a big celebrity.”

“Why didn’t they help the family? Were they scared?”

“Together they could have defeated the brutish stupid Orc. Hearing the cries of the children and their mother, the men asked one another what they should do.” 

“And what did they say?”

“Well, Money Man was wearing very expensive clothes. His shoes alone were worth a thousand dollars. So he said, ‘I advise we do nothing because I may get my clothes soiled. I certainly don’t want to get any blood on my Casino Royale dress shirt. And the Orcs are very dangerous and may mess up my hair which is very delicate. Besides, I’ve been on the phone with the president of the Orcs and I think I can work a deal with him if we don’t do anything to anger him. So let’s just watch and do nothing for now.’”

“What about Gadget man?”

“Gadget man made missiles and satellites that could have been used against the attackers. But he too had been on the phone with the president of the Orcs and was hoping to sell him missiles and satellites. So he said, ‘I agree with Money Man. I say let’s do nothing and later make a deal with the president of the Orcs that will make us all even richer than we already are.’”

“And what about Soldier Boy?”

“Money Man and Gadget Man asked Soldier Boy if the three of them should save the family. Soldier Boy said, ‘I gotta be honest with you, I don't really care what happens to the family whether they live or die.’”

“He just didn’t care. That’s a strange response from a soldier.”

“Well the Orcs are also soldiers and don’t care if families live or die. Or maybe he’s not a real soldier in heart and mind but just likes wearing the uniform.”

“So what happened?”

“The Orcs raped and killed the wife, took the kids, one a daughter poor girl, and left the father in the road half dead.”

“What happened next? Where is the Good Samaritan?”

“First let’s look at what the three men did. Money Man didn’t want to be bothered with the man, ‘I don’t want to touch him. He’s filthy, and he’s a nobody so why should I dirty my clothes and car getting him to a hospital?’

“‘Good point said Gadget Man. Besides if we help him we might spoil the deal with the president of the Orcs.’

“‘That’s right on the money,’ said Money Man. So then they asked Soldier Boy what he thought they should do.”

“‘He’s half dead so let him die is what I say. Besides, his wife is dead and dead people give me the willies and I get real squeamish at the sight of blood. So I say, let’s take off and go to a fancy restaurant where we can forget about all this shit.’ Gadget Man agreed saying that they should head for his yacht and take a holiday. Money Man said, ‘I’m up for two Big Macs, a couple Fillet-o-Fish sandwiches, a large fry and a diet Coke. Whaddya think?’ Soldier Boy said, ‘Whatever floats your boat, Money Man’ and Gadget Man nodded and smiled in agreement.”

“Was that the end of the story?”

“No. Then came along Old Man with his donkey.  He walked to where the injured man was lying in the road. When he saw him, he took pity on him. Though very old and could barely walk himself, Old Man went to him and bandaged the man’s wounds by tearing off the sleeves of his own shirt. He saw the dead woman and began to weep. ‘You poor, poor man. Your wife is dead. Where are your children?’

“‘The Orcs killed her and took the children.’

“‘Yes, they are evil monsters hardly human. I am the president of a rich country. I will see if my people will help yours to fight the Orcs. But I do not have much time. There are three men will soon take control of my country and when they do it will help no one because they worship only money and care nothing about other people, not even their own. They are known as the Three Scrooges but are often called the Three Stooges.’”

“What Old Man said angered Money Man, Gadget Man, and Soldier Boy. ‘He mocks us,’ said Money Man.”

Rich Doubter said, “The three men deserved to be mocked. They remind me of movie The Wizard of Oz.”

“In what way?”

“You know the movie?”

“Of course. So tell me what you are thinking.”

“You know then the Scarecrow who wants a brain, and the Tin Man who wants a heart, and the Cowardly Lion who wants wants courage.”

“I do, and so what are you saying?”

“I think each of the three men lack all three. They are stupid, unfeeling cowards. And the Orcs must be like the monkeys that they do the work of the evil witch.”

“Yes. And I will tell you something you might not know about the movie. It was made in 1939 the same year World War Two began because Hitler ruled Germany.”

“So there have always been Orcs of one kind and another.”

“Always. That's why Good Samaritans are so important.”

“So tell me more about the Old Man, who is the Good Samaritan in your story.”

“Old Man put his coat on the injured man and struggled to get the man on his donkey. ‘You ride and I’ll walk’ said Old Man. Then Money Man said, ‘What a fool!’

“‘I couldn’t agree more,’ said Gadget Man.

“‘The old geezer can barely walk himself yet he lets the injury man ride his donkey while he has to walk. Old fool!’ said Soldier Boy.

“Then Old Man brought the injured man to a medical clinic and told them to take good care of him and that he would spend the night with him to reassure him that he was not alone. The next day Old Man took out his last two denarii and gave them to the doctor. ‘Look after him, doc,’ he said, ‘and when I return. And I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’ The three men had followed Old Man laughing to themselves all the way. When they heard what the Old Man said to the doctor, Gadget Man said, ‘What a fool giving his money help a stranger.’”

“‘I would have left him on the road to die. He’s nothing to me, and I’m a Christian,’ said Soldier Boy.”

“Soldier Boy wasn’t a very good Christian was he?” said Rich Doubter.

“He wasn’t a good man, Christian or not.”

“Then why is he a Christian.”

“For the same reason he is a soldier. To appear to be a better man than he really is.”

“But none of the men are heroes or good men.”

“No. They are just three stooges who think they are better than they really are.”

“Posers.”

“Yes.”

“And is that the end of the story?”

“It is, but can you tell me what the moral of the story is?”

“That Old Man is the hero of the story. He is a better man than the three stooges though he is old and not rich.”

“Why is he the better man?”

“Because like Jesus he help a person in need while the other just watched and did nothing. The Orcs are evildoers but the three men are selfish good-for-nothings.”

“So, you are a wise rich man. Do you still want eternal life?”

“Yes, if possible, but most of all I want to be a good man, a man like Jesus, not Judas.”

“So you are not a doubter. You know Jesus as well as I do.”

“I was prideful. I doubted you, but no longer. But I was uncertain about my own understanding of Jesus. And having talked with you, I now have a better understanding of what Jesus expects of us.”

 “So what are you going to do now, become poor and follow Jesus?”

“I will use my wealth to help people in need, and in that way I can still follow Jesus but do more good than I could as a poor man.”

“I wish you well my friend.”

“You as well, and thank you.”

An American’s Tribute to France’s Universal Health Care

 A True Story

Money and Medical Care

First the backstory. My French wife Brigitte and I met as students at the University of New Mexico. She received her first degree from Sorbonne University in Paris. At UNM she continued her studies in French while I was working on my third degree in philosophy. We both ended up teaching high school in San Diego. After a few years of renting we finally got into a condo. The mortgage was just over $2,000 a month with a condo fee of $500 a month. (Yeah, that’s crazy, but that's California!) We were living in middle-class poverty, meaning we lived well but from paycheck to paycheck. It’s a way of life in which you must live frugally, avoid making mistakes, and don’t get seriously sick.

More important than our income was our medical insurance. No insurance = no medical care without going into debt, most commonly via the infamous credit card. Still, the health insurance provided by our jobs required a $200-$300 monthly payroll deduction. When we retired we relied on Medicare, which limited our access to medical treatment. Still, we weren’t without medical care. And my doctor kept me on when I lost employment insurance coverage. But yearly exams became a conversation rather than a physical checkup. To have full access to doctors and specialists expensive supplement plans were necessary. 

Other Workers Weren’t so Lucky

The situation for unemployed workers or part-time workers or those who work for businesses that don’t provide medical insurance can only be considered desperate.

Just Getting by in America’s Finest City

We decided to retire and move to France. Old-age deterioration ended my teaching career. Brigitte would have liked to teach another four or five years, but we couldn’t survive on her income and my Social Security. The problem with condo living are the surprising big fees. For example, the community had to be tented for termites costing homeowners $4,000 each. After one of the big California wildfires the condo’s fire insurance demanded wooden shingle be replaced by composition shingles. That cost each homeowner $8,000.

Being an Academic Rolling Stone

My retirement is only about $15,00 a month mainly because I spent my twenties and thirties being a professional student. In the following order acquired an A.A. degree in philosophy, a BA in philosophy (both in Long Beach, California), an M.A. in psychology (Portales, New Mexico), an M.A. in English (Canyon, Texas), an M.A. in philosophy (Albuquerque, New Mexico), and a doctorate in English (Greely, Colorado). It was a great intellectual odyssey but poor preparation for making a living. My first full-time teaching job at a private college (San Diego) paid $18,00 a year with no summer vacation. When I left the college after ten years I was making $28,000 a year. I spent another 13 years at a high school and was making $50,000 a year when I retired. That seems like a lot of money even to me but it isn’t for a family in San Diego, California.

Paradise Beckoned

After Brigitte’s parents died we had to decide to sell their house on the side of a mountain in a French alpine village or move to France. We couldn’t do both. Staying in San Diego would require selling the family house. It wasn’t a hard choice for me. I was sick of San Diego traffic, congestion, and polluted air. I felt we lived like mice in a maze with all the mice driving cars. As long as I could boogie board life was bearable, but once I couldn’t boogie board because of arthritis, I said it’s time for the Great Escape. Brigitte wanted to continue to teach. She loved her job, but she didn’t want to lose the family home in France.

Rehabilitating an Old Farm House

The house was built in 1826 and was used only as a summer house by Brigitte's parents. We arrived in France with some money from the sale of the bank-owned condo (the outstanding mortgage would require 30 more years of payments). And the condo complex really wasn’t a community. Even after five years we were mostly a gathering of strangers and a few acquaintances. The money from the sale of the condo was quickly spent to buy a car and have the house rewired and the windows replaced. It took only one winter for us to realize that the old windows had to go. I spent the first winter filling leaks around doors and windows. Still, single pane windows allow heat to escape and welcomed in the cold from outside. There was no insulation, still isn’t. And we had to rely on electric space heaters, which were turned on only when someone was in the room. Wood-burning wasn’t an option because our chimney was declared a fire hazard by an inspector. Repair was beyond what we could afford so wasn’t an option. In addition, because there is no gas, all appliances use electricity. Electricity is expensive in France. Unlike the U.S., France is energy poor thus has to rely on nuclear, hydroelectric, and solar energy for its electricity. Our electric bill is about 430 Euros a month.

Three Amigos to the Rescue

Also the stable’s ceiling was threatening to collapse and required reinforcement with wooden beams. One section of the barn required a concrete floor for the car; the other section where my books were stored in plastic boxes received a wooden floor. Three really cool local old timers did all that work for about five hundred Euros! The barn was without lighting and still is. After buying a lawnmower, cultivator, and snowblower, we were without money for further improvements. I did what I could. I put in a vegetable garden and a stone driveway so the car wouldn’t sink in mud when it rained or snowed as it did repeatedly the first year. But trained in philosophy and literature I was no handyman. Putting in tree swings for the grand kids was about my limit.

France

After couple years Brigitte and I finally settled in. We weren’t rich but made enough to get by. Most of all we loved France. French society runs like a grandfather clock. Order comes from within, from the people themselves rather than from the government. The exception would be automobile, which brings out the worst side of the French personality, but unlike in the U.S. road rage is rare. It’s not so much that French drivers drive aggressively but think they're race-car drivers. Not all French drivers, of course, but once they hit the road many suddenly become in a big hurry—impatient, speeding, tailgating, incautiously passing other cars, etc. Still, aggressive driving is rarely angry. You never see the highway hatred that erupts in the U.S. And, oddly enough, French motorists tend obey the laws of the road even when they're in a big hurry. I’ve had tailgaters just itching to pass me when there is no oncoming traffic but refrains from doing so until they get a broken line.But put them in a long line in a supermarket and suddenly they become patient as Buddha even when the clerk is having a chatty conversation with a shopper. The French are most patient with people engaged in conversation even if the two talkers are blocking the road.

Pastoral France

One reason I don’t understand speeding through the countryside is that the scenery in France is so beautiful that it encourages me at least to drive at a leisurely pace. I’ve live in France for eleven years and still feel like a tourist. The countryside is filled with fields, pastures, and woods. And along with the people there are dogs, cats, cows, horses, donkeys, chickens and turkeys, sheep and goats, and that lovable machine the tractor.

Big C in Paradise

So we had every reason to look forward to living a pleasant retirement in paradise. But cancer had a different plan for us. Our family doctor, now retired, was to me a traditional country doctor. His office was next to his home, and though he took appointments he also had a “first come first served policy” for morning visits. We would arrive to find the waiting room filled with about a dozen patients mostly elderly who greeted new arrivals. There were no numbered tickets. Everyone pretty much knew who was next in line.

Merkel Cell Carcinoma

The other thing about the doctor was he would always have me lie down for a quick physical exam (blood pressure, lungs, stomach, etc.). Next he would ask me a few questions about how I was doing, with Brigitte serving as translator, before getting to the reason for my being there. His co-pay for visits was about 7 Euros. We went to him when Brigitte developed a harmless looking small, pinkish spider-web lesion on her cheek. He didn’t think it was something to worry about but referred her to a dermatologist in Grenoble. Unlike doctors in the U.S. French primary care doctors won’t hesitate to refer a patient to a specialist. In the U.S. insurance companies authorize referrals.

The dermatologist turned out to be a godsend though the old doctor rather than God deserved all the credit for sending Brigitte to her. We weren’t expecting a dire prognosis, but the no-nonsense doctor recognized immediately that the lesion was a serious threat: Merkel cell carcinoma. She arranged for Brigitte to see a private surgeon to remove the lesion and take a biopsy. As it turned out the surgery was extensive involving opening and cleaning the entire cheek. The surgeon was young, in his thirties, affable, and truly skilled at his trade. The scar was hardly noticeable. The co-pay was 250 Euros.

The biopsy confirmed the dermatologist’s diagnosis. This required a more extensive surgery to remove all the cancer. It was performed at Grenoble Alpes University Hospital (CHUGA) by a woman doctor who looked like actress Marion Cotillard. It seems as if half the doctors at the hospital are women. The surgery was just a part of what would turn out to be a long series of treatments that would involve many doctors, nurses, technicians, and taxi drivers. But once Brigitte became a cancer patient there were no more co-pays or taxi fares to pay for. And who was paying for all this? The unselfish French people represented by the French government.

Lymphoma and Shingles Join the Attack on Brigitte

Lymphoma

It would take over a month for Brigitte to begin to recover from the treatments needed for the Merkel cell carcinoma. There would be more visits to the hospital and daily home visits by nurses who would clean and rebandage her new cheek made from a skin graft. The wound was purplish and to me horrific looking. I couldn't imagine how it would ever heal, but it did. The operation was totally amazing to me as were the surgeon and her team (The Miracle Workers❤️). After the first visit I left the nurses alone to do their work. I think Brigitte preferred her squeamish husband not to be present. However, during Merkel cell carcinoma treatment it was discovered that Brigitte also suffered from lymphoma. Apparently this cancer had been hiding out in her for a long while. It would require radiation, chemotherapy, and immunotherapy. There would be more trips to the hospital for those treatments provided by devoted caring doctors, technicians, nurses, and taxi drivers. However, the treatments would depress her immune system, which would have bad consequences later on.

A General Practitioner Comes to Brigitte's Rescue Again

She had replaced our first family doctor who had retired, the one who sent Brigitte to the specialist who discovered the Merkel Cell Carcinoma that began Brigitte long battle with cancer. Because of her fatigue Brigitte spent most of her time in bed. I would bring her meals, mostly soup and sandwiches and help her to the restroom. It was a most depressing time. Then came the realization that she had entered a period of rapid deterioration. She was so tired, she didn't seem to notice that she was getting worse rather than better. To me she seemed at death's door. I had my daughter contact our new doctor, who contacted CHUGA. They told her that they were swamped with COVID-19 patients and couldn't take another patient. Our doctor told them that they would take Brigitte or else! I don't know what the "or else" was but it worked. Our son-in-law drove up from Grenoble to take Brigitte to the hospital. There wasn't time enough to arrange for a taxi. Besides, he was Brigitte's favorite driver. At CHUGA she was welcomed by masked techs and nurses and taken to an  isolation room. She remained in the hospital until her condition was stabilized. There is no doubt in my mind that our new family doctor saved Brigitte's life. And for that she joined my long list of French medical heroes who have worked to keep my wife alive.

Shingles

It seems that one never fully recovers from cancer because checkups and treatments can continue for years. In Brigitte’s case there were treatments to boost her depressed immune system. Yet, in a vulnerable state she was struck by shingles in a fashion similar to that experienced by the late Senator Dianne Feinstein. Brigitte lost control of one eye, which made it impossible for her to drive or read. The latter was especially painful for her since she has been an avid reader all her life, a book or two at week. When a teenager she read Leo Tolstoy's War & Peace. Shingles (zona in French) put her in the hospital for eight days, where she was attended to by a legion of nurses, doctors, and interns.

Her Mechanical Valet 

Once at home she continued her intravenous therapy, which required that she remain attached day and night to a clunky mobile solution holder. She learned to manage it when to use the restroom and even go downstairs to the kitchen. It became her constant companion. Brigitte’s determination to survive had already become heroic to me, but seeing her attached to the device was heartbreaking. Nurses came daily to check on her and maintain the IV. They too were my heroes. They kept us from feeling abandoned on the side of a mountain. Months passed. Eventually, she regained control over her wandering eye and she could once again read her beloved books and peruse Facebook and reconnect with friends, though driving remain interdict for a while longer. However, for the rest of her life she would remain on valacyclovir for her shingles. And this is where I should point out that for all her medicines related to her cancers and shingles there was no co-pay. They were free, though not totally free because they were paid by the French people.

Disaster at the Vet’s

After years of Brigitte’s doing battle with life-threatening illnesses, we thought that once again our life would finally get back to normal. But a visit to a veterinary said no way. We were taking our nervous wreck of a border collie for his yearly checkup. At the vet he had a nervous breakdown. He’s not aggressive, but at a veterinary he goes crazy and snaps at anyone who touches him. When Brigitte tried to control him, he snapped at her. There was only a pinprick of blood on her wrist so we thought it would be okay. Four hours later Brigitte’s arm had swelled to twice its size and was becoming increasingly painful. It was dark by then and outside a rain storm raged. My night vision is lousy and lights from other cars are blinding, so I never drive at night. And at eighty years of age I really don’t have much confidence in my reflexes when driving at night. I’m a good driver under normal daytime conditions, but conditions weren’t normal that night. Brigitte said she had to get to the local hospital’s urgent care about 25 kilometers from us. The small-town urgent care wasn't like the emergency care facilities of big cities. There was only a nurse and a doctor on board.

Anyway, we hit the road. To make driving worse, much of the highway had just been resurfaced and was without a center white line to guide me in the pouring rain and darkness. I felt trapped in the noir film The Wages of Fear expecting to drive off the road into the forest or drift into oncoming traffic. Finally arriving at the hospital we walked to urgent care and rang to be allowed in. We were welcomed by the nurse. She was calm and friendly and took us to an empty waiting room. The hospital was like a ghost town. Brigitte too was composed and collected; however, my mood was bleak after the noir drive to the hospital. For both of us it had been a long day and eerie night. Seeing Brigitte’s arm suddenly double in size I could only think the worst. I mean cancer and bacterial infections are the two most fear medical threats in the minds of most people, including mine.

After a forty-five minute wait during which the doctor had been treating another patient, the nurse took Brigitte to the doctor. I stayed behind and never met him, but Brigitte said he was great. He stuck a probe into her arm to remove what infection he could. He apologized that he didn't use an analgesic for fear that it might contribute to the spread the infection. Thus, the procedure would be painful, but Brigitte was a veteran of painful procedures. Afterwards, he gave her a prescription for antibiotics. He said if there is no improvement after 48 hours Brigitte had to go to CHUGA. We didn't have to wait even 24 hours.

By that time it was early morning and Brigitte called our daughter. She wanted our Good Samaritan son-in-law to take her to the pharmacy. She had more confidence in his driving ability than she did in mine. For him it would be a forty kilometer drive from Grenoble. I said that his coming was unnecessary, but both Brigitte and our daughter said I was in no condition to be driving around in town where I might have an octogenarian lapse and run over a pedestrian. I was grateful to be relieved of duty. The rain had stop and the sun was rising. Brigitte having been treated and soon to be on antibiotics, I felt better knowing that her condition was finally being treated. So during the drive home I marveled at the beautiful scenery—fields, pastures, and forests, with mountains powered with snow. I gave a thought to the artist Winslow Homer whom I had been studying. “The Sun will not rise without my thanks” he said. That’s how I felt as I headed for home.

But that nemesis Mr. Bacteria had other plans for Brigitte. (How strange that there are 7 types of bacteria in this best of all possible worlds!) The day passed and the swelling and pain continued. In the predawn morning Brigitte said she needed to go to the big hospital in Grenoble, also known as le CHU Grenoble Alpes. A taxi would be required. He or she, I forget now, came. They always do wind, rain, snow or sunshine. In good weather or bad, they come. And like the nurses who come to the house, taxi drivers are kindly men and women. They have served as Brigitte's lifeline to CHUGA. We had to pay the fare—100 Euros—since the taxi hadn’t been prescribed by a physician. It was a fair price considering the distance is about 50 kilometers, a third of the return trip was up a mountain, and the price of gas in France is $5.54 per gallon. Brigitte would be four days in the hospital, during that time there would be surgeries, antibiotics, loving care, and three wonderful meals a day. (You smile but in France hospital food can be quite tasty.) With her arm in a plastic cast she went to the hospital yesterday and will visit the hospital again today. Apparently there will be a long schedule of treatments until the arm is given the okay by the doctors.

 Is this loving care?

Because of CHUGA Brigitte has survived life-threatening cancerous, viral, and bacterial attacks. That is a remarkable shared story that has involved both courage and love. Some people believe that expressions of love require the emotion. They can, but I don’t believe emotion is necessary. Expressing tenderness, compassion, and sensitivity need not require amore. And there are different types of love. Agape, from Ancient Greek, is considered by some to be the highest form of love, charity, a disposition to show kindness or compassion without amore. The philosopher Emmanuel Kant might say it’s love rooted in a love of duty—doing the right thing, doing good. Agape is often defined as God's love for human beings. That’s a stretch given God’s behavior in the Old Testament. He destroys cities and has his own people mass murdered and created a fiery Hell for Buddhists, Taoists, agnostic, secularists, and unbaptized. According to J. D. Vance’s hero Augustine of Hippo unbaptized babies go to hell for eternal punishment. Who would want such a guy to be the spokesman for one’s religion? And where was the loving Yahweh during the Holocaust? Six million Jews died and will be sent to Hell according to that other nightmarish spokesman for the religion Apostle Paul. Personally I can’t see Jesus being okay with such an idea, given his one and only goal in life was to save his people the Jews—as Jews, not Christians. Agape isn’t divine. It’s purely human as illustrated by the man Jesus and the Good Samaritan. I believe Agape is what Brigitte has received and continues receive at CHUGA, along with other forms of loving care.

Another form of love is philia or friendship or good will. I believe that unlike agape there is some emotion involved (and there’s nothing wrong with having that loving feeling present), though I would call it fellow-feeling or perhaps brotherly or sisterly love. Some characteristic or commonality can trigger philia. Brigitte might remind many medical personal of their mother or grandmother (she’s both).What is unique here is that it is love not based on a developed friendship. For example, at the grocery store you have 30 items in your basket and the person behind you has three. You let him or her go before you not because you feel sorry for him or her but just because the person is a fellow-human, and the result is a courtesy. If the person is elderly or handicap then sympathy may play a part. Sympathy alone is not an expression of love, though perhaps sympathy that inspires helpful action is. This does not quite fall in the category of being a Good Samaritan. The need isn’t great enough. It’s just doing a good deed for a fellow human being, a moment of spontaneous helpful friendship. Brigitte has often referred to the friendly treatment she received at CHUGA, such as being welcomed with a smile and kind word.

The Highest Form of Self-Realization

Human beings seek to realize themselves in endless ways, but the most praiseworthy and noble form of self-realization as a human being is living a life inspired and guided by moral principles. That is why the highest praise is given to men like Buddha and Jesus and women such as the courageous Joan of Arc, Jesus’s loving mother Mary, and the devoted Ruth the Moabite. There are two categories for moral self-realization. The first comes from the wisdom of Buddha: avoid thinking and actions that cause suffering. The other is illustrated by Jesus or Hippocrates: act to alleviate suffering—moral altruism. Both are praiseworthy as being the highest achievements in life. But the latter is superior to the former. We expect people not to cause suffering and in some cases punish them if they do. In addition, to achieve the Buddhist ideal one needs only to refrain from harming others. It's passive form of morality.  Altruism, on the other hand, always requires action, acting to end or lessen the suffering of another human being (or any other creature for that matter). Médecins Sans Frontières come to mind. There is no greater achievement than to dedicate one's life to end the suffering of others. That is the highest good for self-realization.

The Good Samaritan and Moral Self-Realization

The parable of the Good Samaritan is the most famous illustration of altruism. He goes out of his way to help a man who was attacked by evil men. (There are so many such men in the world today.) In service to God’s law a priest and a Levite avoid helping the injured man. Here is what the Good Samaritan does: 

He went to [the injured man] 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 [two days’ wages at the time] 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.” (Luke 10:34-35).  

This is not passive morality—which is also good. It’s active morality, which is even better. Who are the Good Samaritans in Brigitte’s story? First, France’s universal health care system paid for by the French people. It is a government program in so far as it is provided by the government, though private of health care also exist in France. CHUGA is a social institution paid for and operated by French citizens that is open to the sick and injured, to the rich and poor, and to those with or without medical insurance. This is why as an institution CHUGA achieves the highest moral status.

Love: Humanity’s Greatest Achievement

The other Good Samaritans are the doctors, nurses, techs, clerks, and maintenance people who work to serve patients. I think there must be a little bit of Buddha, Hippocrates, Jesus, and the Good Samaritan in people who are drawn to professions that seek to prevent or alleviate human suffering. What have been the great achievements in the human evolution? There have been many such as intellectual reasoning and artistic appreciation and creativity. These are high-level achievements, yet ironically they may not be as profound as the rather basic ability to love, not just other people as recommended by Jesus, but everything as seen the paintings of those great lovers life Winslow Homer, Monet, Cézanne, and Renoir. And what produced those paintings? Love. What inspires the devotion to care for the sick, aged, and injured at CHUGA? Love. So perhaps love does give birth to altruistic morality.

Spiritual Institutions

Spiritual institutions are not where gods are worship but where loving deeds are performed. Is CHUGA a spiritual institution? In the moral sense yes, and there is no other sense. Jesus shows that the spiritual life = the moral life. To understand this one must focus on his actions, not his words, which are not trustworthy because they are not his words but the words of writers of the Gospels. Spirituality is associated with that which is other than the material or physical. Christians believe spirituality is related to the soul, but there is no reason to believe that such a substance exists in people. And if it does, what good is it? If the soul is the source of moral goodness and motivator of moral actions, then why are there so many evil men in the world? It doesn’t make sense. Or does the soul serve the selfish desire to live forever?

Morality isn't material or physical, yet it can motivate actions. And moral people choose to be moral just as evil people choose to be immoral, often choosing to be evil. Thus according to the role models of Hippocrates, Buddha, and Jesus, the spiritual life is the moral life. And in all three cases, what is the superlative moral life? It is a life that refrains from causing suffering (Buddha) and alleviating suffering (Hippocrates and Jesus). By behaving morally, one’s life is spiritualized. And there is no greater achievement for human beings. And it is an achievement available to anyone, no special talent or ability is required, though certain skills enable a person to more effectively alleviate suffering.

CHUGA Is What Utopia Looks Like

If CHUGA was a nation it would be a utopia. It is an institution of pure moral goodness. Such would be a society of Good Samaritans devoted to helping people in need. There are endless ways to do this: https://dosomething.org/article/community-service-project-ideas

But the French people do this each and every day by providing hard-earned tax Euros for government programs such as universal health and public transportation. France is not a utopian society, but that is its goal, and the fundamental element of a utopian society is caring for others. Avoiding causing suffer and avoiding ignoring suffering.

The Purpose of this Article

Is to thank the French people, our primary care physicians, but especially employees at CHUGA for their loving care that has kept my wife alive. And my gratitude is shared by the rest of the family and by Brigitte's many friends and former students.