What Does It Mean To Care

Last night, after the Easter Vigil Mass, my GPS took me home from the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception through some poor neighborhoods. I had my windows up and the heat on, and the smell of marijuana permeated my car. As I drove, my frustration built thinking of those who defend the goodness of casual marijuana use as something that brings people joy. These people who claim to be looking out for the poorest among us and want what’s best for them. But do they really want what’s best? Do they really care?

From my late teens to late twenties, I intermittently hung around in some really rough neighborhoods and apartment buildings...REALLY ROUGH! The kinds of neighborhoods where the police set up bright lights to deter drug dealing, and the Nation of Islam had taken over security for apartment buildings, because the police couldn’t do anything to stop the violence. People of color predominantly inhabited these neighborhoods. And there was a lot of drug use. One of those drugs was marijuana. No one I knew who was using it was an epileptic or recovering from chemo. All the people I knew and knew of were casual users. And the weed was definitely having an impact on their day-to-day lives, but I would not describe the impact as joyful.

I was hanging out at a friend's apartment one day when she made this statement while high. She was complaining about not having enough money, and I asked why she didn’t get a job at McDonald's. Her response was, “Why should I get a job when the government gives me everything I need for free?” At the time, I thought she was lazy, but in hindsight, I see it as a result of a lack of discipline, motivation, and self-esteem. All of these things are impacted by regular marijuana use. These are not joyful traits. They are life-destroying traits. They are traits that keep people stuck in a cycle of poverty and irresponsibility. Is it the caring thing to do to leave them stuck in poverty? Stuck in a mindset that I can’t do any better or hope for any better. If that is caring to you, then we have very different ideas of what it means to care.

When I was deep in my marijuana use, I was on the phone talking with my mom. I was extolling the virtues of marijuana in my life, giving credit to it for all the good in my life. All the “joy” of being a 30-something gamer living in a basement apartment in ratty conditions, no money in the bank, outta shape, no real friends, strained relationships with family, and rapidly losing clients. You know...JOY!  After a few minutes of my exaltation of weed, my mom had had enough. In one of her rare semi-angry moments, she said, “You know I don’t tell you how to live, but I hate that stuff, marijuana. I hate what it’s done to you and I hate what it’s done to our family.”  Boom! Mic drop! She left it at that. No softening. No, trying to make me feel better. She cut me and left the wound to bleed. This is what caring is!

The legalization of marijuana for recreational use will not bring people the joy they seek. Joy is found in growth, accomplishment, self-sacrifice, and being good to others and ourselves. Weed does not bring this joy. Weed slowly saps life of meaning. Weed slowly erodes the willingness to suffer for the good of others or for the betterment of oneself and/or one's circumstances.

If you don’t believe me, go into a neighborhood that is poor and where marijuana is used regularly recreationally. For that matter, go into the home of a middle-class family where people regularly use weed recreationally. Look into the eyes of those people who may be laughing but have a hollowness in their eyes. Watch their lives from a distance, so you don’t get a contact high, and watch them spin their wheels. Stuck in the same job, in the same apartment, in the same neighborhood, jealous and angry at those who have more than they do.  Not able to see that those who work harder and don’t waste their time getting high, playing games, mindlessly entertaining themselves, sleeping around, hanging out on the corner.

To tell people in this circumstance that weed is a positive in their life and the lives of their loved ones is a disservice. A disservice that my mom, thankfully, would not tolerate. If we genuinely care for the least among us, as we claim to do, we will put our own wants and needs aside for the betterment of our brothers and sisters. If weed is a stumbling block for them but not for us, we put it aside for them. If junk food is a stumbling block for them but not for us, we put it aside for them. We look out for those who don’t have what it takes at this point to look out for themselves. This is what it means to care and will the good of those we say we care about. I pray that our politicians become leaders and do what is best for the people, not what is best for their careers. I pray that we all do the same.

Am I my brother's keeper? Yes, I am.

Human-Written, AI Spell-Checked 4/4/21

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