I recently saw a news story on TV about people who had survived jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge. The story included the accounts of two men who had both decided to take their own lives relatively early in life. One man, now in his mid thirties, jumped when he was only in his late teens.
Out of the estimated 1,700 people who have jumped off the bridge, only about 30 have survived. The experience for both men was nearly identical in terms of how they felt and what they realized, just moments after their hands left the rail—instant regret and the realization that they had made a fatal mistake.
One of the men, Kevin Hines, was only a teenager when he jumped in September 2000. He explained how, as he walked out on the bridge walkway, he had hoped someone passing would ask him if he was “okay,” because he had made up his mind that that would be his indicator—the only “sign” he needed—to change his mind and not jump. When one woman finally did stop him, sadly, she did not pick up on the despair in his eyes, and only asked him to take a picture. He obliged, handed back her camera, then leapt over the rail. In his own words, Hines explained, “I said to myself, ‘What have I done, I don’t want to die, God please save me.’ The moment I hit freefall was an instant regret – I recognized that I made the greatest mistake in my life and I thought it was too late.”
When I heard this my heart sank. How likely is it that so very many others of those who did not survive had these same exact thoughts? It is the picture of tragedy nearly too painful; too dreadful to consider.
This past April, construction began on a suicide prevention net on the Golden Gate Bridge. While this is a laudable project, the real solution to this kind of problem lies elsewhere. In some cases it’s addressing the needs of the mentally ill, but in many others—probably the majority—the solution can only be found within each of us. It has to do with how we see each other and whether we allow ourselves to be vulnerable—to lower our guard enough to truly empathize with others, and take the time to do so.
In my religious tradition, we believe that evil exists and that the “head” of evil is sometimes called the “Great Deceiver” or “The Father of Lies.” One of his greatest, most common lies is to have people believe they are “worthless” beings; people without value or purpose. Both of the men in that TV special had been deceived, as they instantly realized the moment they jumped. They, like everyone—like you and like me—are special, unique creations of a loving God who wants each of us to live full, meaningful lives of joy and love.
So, the next time you’re off on vacation and you stop and ask someone to take your picture, be sure to look in their eyes for at least a moment and connect. They may just be waiting for you to ask them an important, life-altering question like, “How are you doing?”
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