Okay so this is a thing that I’ve been thinking about pretty consistently for the past couple weeks. And to explain this thing, we’re going to have a brief history lesson. Or, at least, I’ll try to be brief. Sometimes I just get real excited about history, ya know?
So our journey starts in 1247, when a man named Simon Fitzmary opened the Priory of St. Mary of Bethlehem in Bishopsgate, England. The priory was used as a hospice until 1375 when the royal crown acquired it and turned it into a royal hospital known as Bedlam, with “Bedlam” being a variation on “Bethlehem”.
This is where things get interesting. And by “interesting” I mean weirdly grotesque.
Two years after being acquired by the crown, the hospital at Bedlam began to care for mentally ill patients. And in 1403 it began to specialize in care for the mentally ill, becoming the world’s first psychiatric institution. However, keep in mind here that this is a time when people with mental disabilities were seen as being demon possessed or otherwise out of control of their own beings. So the term “care” here refers to chaining the patients up to the wall and whipped or dunked in water when misbehaved.
Early 16th century maps show ‘Bedlame Gate’, the entrance to the hospital, and since the institutions housed more patients that it was built for, space was scarce and the patients were probably better off outside of Bedlam than in. The noise was described as ‘so hideous, so great; that they are more able to drive a man that hath his wits rather out of them’.
But that’s not the part that really gets me. The part that I just can’t get over is that Bedlam became a major tourist attraction. A freaking TOURIST ATTRACTION. People would gather their families and take vacations to go “see the crazies”. They would travel from far and wide to stand around and watch these poor people cry and moan and live their pitiful existences. When I first learned about this in high school (shoutout to Mrs. Hall. You da best), I thought that this was the most ridiculous idea ever. Why would anyone want to stand around wand watch mentally ill people? Who does that?
Well, I have since learned the answer to that question. A whole lot of people, that’s who.
Every day from 8-12 I volunteer at a hospital in Antigua in a ward for children with cerebral palsy. Every day I go there and I feed wheelchair-bound kids, disinfect all the cribs, change all the sheets, fold copious amounts of laundry, and when that’s all done I sit and interact with the children, sometimes I sing and play with them, sometimes I just take them out of their wheelchairs and cuddle with them. Each one is unique. There is Jairo, who is highly functional and will point you to exactly where he wants to go, and will let you know if he wants to play catch, and who loves to dance. There are kids like Gustavo and Jiuver, who cannot speak or interact but will give you the biggest smile when you show them love. There are kids like Rafael and Jose, who do none of the above, but are super cuddly and will snuggle with you all day if you want. These kids are all so special and so sweet, and I refuse to believe that any of them were mistakes.
The thing is, the way the ward I work in is set up, there is a wrought-iron gate to enter, and you can totally see through it. And leading up to the gate on one side is a ramp connecting the second level to the first level, the ramp is concrete with a concrete half-wall on the side connecting it to the ward, which consists of an open-air courtyard with various rooms attached where the children actually sleep. During the day, most of the kids hang out in the courtyard, and the volunteers play with the kids there. Since it’s so open and exposed, a lot of the time people who are waiting at the hospital will stand at the gate or on the ramp and just watch. Literally, these people stand and watch these kids while they sit in their wheelchairs and moan and cry. Everyday. And every day all I can think of is: Bedlam.
I feel every day as I enter the hospital that I am standing at Bedlam’s gate. But I’m not there to gawk at the crazies. I’m there to love God’s people. I’m there to learn lessons about contentment and childlike faith from souls the Lord designed intentionally. Each of those children are precious in His sight, they’re not sideshow attractions or freaks or whatever. They are not objects to be stared at, they are people. And just because they interact with the world differently does not mean they are less.
One of my squadmates made the comment that maybe God speaks to them in ways we could never comprehend, kind of like how if you lose one sense the others are heightened. For example, if you lose your sense of sight then your sense of smell is increased. So maybe it’s the same with these children. Maybe since they can’t speak or interact with the world in the same way, maybe God also speaks and interacts with them in a different way. I think that this is something that’s not for me to know right now. I think that God’s plan for these children is between He and they. And maybe one day when I am standing in front of the Lord I can ask Him, but until then I just need to love them without questioning.
So maybe next time I catch myself “staring at the crazies”, maybe figuratively, maybe literally, I’ll remember that staring does not help God’s people. We need to love them. And love requires action.
