Pity Is Not An Insult (September 3, 2006)

The duties of charity and grace usually involve extending tokens of good will to those who are in need. But on occasion they also involve receiving such tokens from people who want to give them.

What sparked this thought was an article I read about all the hatred directed at Jerry Lewis by certain disability activists. For 40 years Lewis has conducted a Labor Day telethon to raise money for a cure for muscular dystrophy. His telethons have raised $1.35 billion. I think that most people with MD are grateful for his work. Utah Assistant Attorney General Steve Mikita, who has the disease, says, "He is worthy of a major, major pat on the back for a job well done." Sophie Mitzel, whose 7-year-old son Logan has a form of MD, says, "I don't know where we'd be without the tremendous help of Jerry Lewis."

But then there are the MD protesters who hate the fact that Lewis regards them as objects of pity. For about the last 15 years they have appeared at telethon locations across the country on Labor Day to register their offense. "Jerry Lewis has got to go," says Mike Ervin, founder of the mockingly titled "Jerry's Orphans." "The telethon gives a negative message about people with disabilities," says Laura Hershey, organizer of "Tune Jerry Out."

Can't they just say "Thank you"?

I think Lewis makes an excellent point when he says, "They want me to stop the telethon because I make them look pitiful. What is more pitiful than this?" Exactly! MD is a pitiable condition. But some people's pride makes their stomachs twist into knots of spiteful malice when they find themselves the objects of another's charity.
"Don't you dare pity me!" they say - as though pity lessened them, robbed them of dignity. It doesn't. Pity that is gently given and humbly received ennobles both the giver and the recipient.

The other day I heard about a relatively young man named Mike who, when he found out he had a serious disease, rounded up friends and told them about it and said, "I don't want anyone to pity me." Why not, Mike? You caught a bad break. Some people will need to pity you. Let them do that. Let them ache for you and offer their help. Your most courageous act now will not be to brush aside their charity, but to receive their grace with grace. Even Jesus was willing to receive - even asked for - the alert company of disciples on the night of his sorrow. (Matthew 26:36-40). But they were too tired to help.

Thank God for good souls like Jerry Lewis, who, at 80, is somehow not too tired to plow through another 22-hour telethon, motivated and energized by pity for the unfortunate. Pity is a good thing. A good thing to give, and a good thing to receive.