But I Didn't Do It I was on the #22 bus on the way to school this morning and the bus hit a lady. The driver had been arguing animatedly with a passenger in Creole over the fare (ie, she hadn't paid). We were at the bus stop for like a minute or two listening to them rant and rave. Finally the driver turned away and revved the bus, but the passenger rattled on loudly. Not 50 feet from the bus stop, we all heard a loud noise, the bus stopped, and someone yelled out that we'd hit a woman. The driver opened the doors, and a few of us immediately ran out to help the woman, followed by the other passengers. The Creole passenger immediately skedaddled. Within seconds a nearby cop or EMT - I couldn't tell - pulled over and called in help as he assessed the injuries while a young black woman and I kept the victim still and calmed her as best we could. In the state she was in, the victim spoke only Spanish, so I communicated things like "lie down" and "stay still" through a bilingual young man who had been on the bus. The victim was maybe 50 years old, of compact build, and in serious pain. Her legs were all messed up; large lacerations with a good 20 square inches of flesh exposed on her right calf, mostly. Her right leg was obviously crushed and broken in a few places, with a broken bone creating a large lump on her knee. Her ankles and feet may have been broken too; she kept saying "mi pied" and trying to reach her feet with her right hand, which we prevented. Two minutes later there were a dozen public servants taking over and doing their thing with silent efficiency. I was very flattered that one EMT actually thanked me for helping; usually you just feel in the way. But almost anyone who was there could have told you all that. Though the sight of open flesh and disfigured legs has made my stomach a bit tight all day, it wasn't like that was me (though, incidentally, I recognized one of the EMT's from a month ago when I was picked up off the street and taken to the hospital). What I uniquely experienced was a lot less serious, but perhaps more instructive. When they started arguing, I gathered from what the bus driver said that the transfer ticket (Boston buses have free transfer; you take a little slip with the info of the bus you paid on, including time and route #) was expired; probably it was a few days old. I later heard from a regular passenger on the route that the woman does that every day. Anyhow, after the driver and passenger went at it hammer and tongs in Creole, I was prompted to dig out 75 cents and go pay the lady's fare to get the show on the road. But I didn't do it. I just sat there, feeling more comfortable. I was the only white on the bus, I couldn't understand their argument, and it was clear that the passenger was the aggressor as opposed to the driver. I did have 75 cents, though only in nickels and dimes; had no bills at all. I knew I could get return fare from my Dad at school, so that wasn't an issue. But I didn't do it. And even at the time my conscience was telling me I was being disobedient. And then we pulled away from the bus stop, and I thought, "well, all's well that ends well." Which wasn't quite the case when 30 seconds later I was holding the hand of a woman who may never walk again. Yeah, I know it's not my fault: maybe the angered bus driver would have hit her anyway. And she shouldn't have been jaywalking across Seaver St, which is a 4-lane urban arterial in a dangerous traffic situation (short sight lines, etc). And it's not like the lady needed bailing out; she was a low-down snake-in-the-grass, running off as soon as there was trouble after blowing up at the bus driver, who was fairly calm, and calling him the worst Creole swears, according to a translator. So yeah, it's not like I ran the woman down. And if you apply chaos theory, you could say that possibly the slight timing change if I'd gone up and offered my 75 cents might have caused the woman to be killed instead of maimed. So how do I evaluate the consequences of my sin of omission? I apply the beatitude, "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the sons of God," and the fact that Jesus is known as the "Prince of Peace". Had I defused the situation, the result would have been more peace and less chaos. What followed was not a direct consequence of my action. However, it is a perfect example of the %#*^*! that happens in a fallen, chaotic world. By bringing peace to that situation, I might have been able to restore conditions conducive to human life. But I didn't do it.