Many people in the world were shocked when an awful news story broke about 17-year-old Jordan Turpin who escaped her family home to alert police as to the dreadful conditions she and her siblings had been forced to live in under the tyrannical rule of their abusive parents. As more horrific details and layers to the story emerged in the press, their home was aptly named ‘The House of Horrors.’ I’ve read news stories before, some sad and some tragic, but for an inexplicable reason, this one really bothered me. A lot. Clearly, a story like this provokes many questions on the nature of evil in this world, but the one that perturbed me more than any other was: how did they get away with it? How, for nearly three decades, did these wicked people with many noticeably undernourished children, manage to hide their actions from the world?
Where were the family and where were the friends? Were there classmates or teachers they had encountered? Neighbours who saw something strange? An employer with a suspicion?
As it turned out, there were many of the above. Over the course of 30 years, a number of people had encountered the Turpin family in various situations. Neighbours who had noticed the decrepit state of their home, classmates who had maliciously bullied their unkempt daughter and even college companions who had watched their starving son eat plate after plate of food at a gathering. Yet tragically, there was no on who put these pieces of the puzzle together, to call for help before it was too late.
One reason why no one called for help is that the weight of accountability shifts when it feels like there is someone else who can do it. What might seem like common sense has been labelled by social psychologists John M Darley and Bibb Latane in 1968, as the ‘Bystander Effect,’ but is there a way to break the pattern?
When our family made the unusual move from Jerusalem to Birmingham, overnight, we were no longer one of the masses. We had graduated to being one of the few and were acutely aware of the responsibility that came along with it. We had gone from a city where Jewish values were so obviously the norm and our commitment to them was a given, to a place where we felt challenged to become ambassadors for those values. In truth, we should always have felt that way, but the change in reality changed our self-perception.
In the Rosh Hashanah prayers, we recount how each individual in the world passes before God, like sheep before a shepherd. And when that happens, their actions are scrutinised and analysed by Him. It is a powerful and somewhat frightening idea when we give it thought. But it is also an empowering idea. Because its underlying message conveys that in fact, we count. That in a world of 7.442 billion people, I must own what I do. Hiding behind everyone else is not an option. It is I and I alone who is accountable for my deeds.
One person who would know that is Dr Eric Voigt.
Voigt was relaxing at home watching the TV show ‘Beachfront Bargain Hunt’, when he noticed a contestant who had a lump on her neck that looked worrying. As an ENT surgeon, he was trained to notice those things, but as an ‘off duty’ doctor, he was under no obligation to do anything about it. But he did anyway. Having no way to contact her and not even knowing her name, he took to social media in the hope of finding her and encouraging her to see a specialist. He was eventually connected with Nicole McGuiness, a brain cancer survivor whose doctors had not noticed the mass. On his recommendation, she investigated it and was subsequently diagnosed with thyroid cancer. Despite having received challenging news, McGuiness thanked the doctor in an emotional televised interview. Due to his vigilance and subsequent efforts, her life was saved.
Rosh Hashanah is the time of year that prompts us to become the Eric Voigt in our lives. It is the time that reminds us of the awesome ability latent within each one of us. The ability to observe that which is broken in the world and more importantly, the responsibility to fix it. If just one person would have heard their silent cry and acted, we may never have known of the Turpin family. So many people so many have times have said, “Someone else will do it”, but once in a while someone breaks the pattern to say “I’ll do it”.
This year, let’s choose to be that someone.
