Many years ago I was in training to be a combat medic in the Army National Guard. I was at Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio, Texas, when we had a session that rocked my world. Hundreds of us were marched into an enormous room with stadium-like seating. Looking back, I think the class was on the ethics of being a medic, though I didn’t know that at the time.
A sergeant on the stage asked us a simple question:
“Say you were in a Humvee with two other soldiers, one being your sergeant, and two enemy prisoners in the back. The Humvee blows up, and you discover that you are fine. But your sergeant is seriously wounded and one of the enemy soldiers is critically wounded. Who do you help first?”
I raised my hand and was called on. I stood up.
“I would help my Sergeant,” I said.
“That’s the wrong answer, Private.” Her voice boomed the rebuke across the room.
“But it was HIS buddies who blew us up, let them help him,” I said. A few cheers went up in agreement.
The Sergeant on the stage, a Black woman with a crisp uniform and gleaming spit-shined boots, glared at me from across the room and spoke with absolute authority.
“If you want to watch people die then join the infantry. You’re a medic. You help people.”
The energy in the room turned from jovial to serious. My bloodlust evaporated. I had spent boot camp shooting at human-shaped targets, practicing bayonet thrusts, throwing grenades, and crawling under fire. Practicing the taking of human life. Now I was learning to save it. But I learned more than that with that simple rebuke.
“If you want to watch people die then join the infantry. You’re a medic. You help people.”
I realized the absolute sense in what that sergeant said and I sat down quietly and listened to the rest of the class with careful attention.
We Americans are a warlike people. We declare war on everything. Even our attempts at humanitarianism are expressed as a “War on poverty” or a “War on drugs.”
I’ve even read many, many times over the years about the concept of being a “Spiritual warrior.” What the heck is a spiritual warrior? If you know the answer, don’t bother explaining. The term is an abomination as far as I’m concerned.
Choosing the path of love sounds like a vapid platitude until you see the alternative.
But a Spiritual Medic, that’s something I can get behind. Everybody has a job to do, and we need warriors. But I would argue we have enough of them. They rage on social media, they shout on talk shows, they blast hot takes and opinions everywhere. And they want you to do it too. Outrage and escalation are the modes we’re living in. They call for more, more, more. And maybe they’re right. Maybe the way forward is hacking and slashing through the thicket, carving a path to justice with a swing of a machete.
Even so, we have a shortage of medics: People whose job it is, by nature, disposition, even training, to be of service, to heal, to help. That’s me. I’m a medic. I’m not here to fight. If you don’t want to fight, that’s OK. Try to help instead. Be a medic. Leave the war to the warriors.
I’m not advocating for doing nothing. I’m suggesting that there are other ways to be in the world than shooting at the enemy, and they are just as needed. Cook someone a meal. Help someone in need. Be kind to someone even when you don’t feel like it. Share an opinion about something that gives you joy. Carry bandages in your backpack, literally and metaphorically. It’s OK to be a medic.
Sometimes not hurting anyone is as good as we can do. “First, do no harm” seems like an oath worth taking.
Choosing the path of love sounds like a vapid platitude until you see the alternative. You don’t have to shout. You don’t have to fight. If you’re more a medic than infantry, like me, then put down the weapon and choose to soothe instead.
Wishing you the best in the worst of times,
I am,
Your spiritual medic and free life coach,
Sean Sakamoto
Very interesting! Thanks!