by Nadia Ramoutar MMM Communications Coordinator Ireland 15.10.2025
As a little girl growing up in Dublin long before social media and screens on phones, I was transported to the wilds of Africa watching Jane Goodall on television. I would sit transfixed. How was she so calm, so gentle and comfortable in the wild? How had she gotten there from a childhood in England? Was she not afraid of this place and these wild animals? She was and has remained a role model for global advocacy of the natural world and being a steward of our Earth. When she died on 1st October, 2025 I cried as if a precious aunt had passed away and I was not ready to say goodbye.
My early fascination with Jane Goodall was no accident as she wisely believed that it was important to engage children about conservation and preservation early on. She wrote many children’s and adult books in her time but she realised that to really make the world better we need to reach people early in life. “What you do makes a difference, and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make?” She wisely said and I paid attention.
Two years ago a life dream came true for me and I was in beautiful Tanzania visiting the amazing MMM Missions there. I saw where the Jane Goodall Institute was being constructed. What a shame it would not be open by the time I was leaving. I really wanted to go inside and explore the legacy of this great women. Dr Goodall’s relationship to the animal world was expanded to the human world as she aged realising the harm and damage humans were doing to habitats.
As the world mourns Jane Goodall’s passing, there is much to celebrate in her call for us to be a better human kind. In her 80s and even when she turned 90, Jane worked 300 days a year to try and convince people to care and to not let this important moment in time go by without making the world care. “Above all, we must realise that each of us makes a different with our life. Each of us impacts the world around us every single day. We have a choice to use the gift of our life to make the world a better place – or not to bother.”
Her words resonate with me and I know in my heart despite my efforts, I have not done enough to make the world a better place – Have you? What else can we do? The great woman has gone to her resting place making every moment count. She has lovingly passed the baton on to those of us who remain. We must, as best we can, hold it tight and go the next leg of the journey with all our heart.
by Sr. Margaret Anne Meyer MMM USA 13.10.2025
In August 1978, I was asked to leave Makiungu and go to Dareda Hospital, about sixty miles away. The surgeon there had finished his two-year contract and was going home with his wife and newborn baby. Sr. Doctor Maureen Mc Dermott had asked me to come and help her.
Dareda was a Government-designated District Hospital which meant that the people did not pay for their medical stay or medicine, and the Government paid the Staff salaries. This meant that we were inundated with patients. Sometimes our bed count was over three hundred. I was sorry to leave Dr. Rachel Patton behind in Makiungu Hospital, but she managed very well. She was able to perform extremely complicated surgery. She was able to save the life of a baby who was born without an anus.
The change was not as difficult as leaving Uganda. Instead of living in a semi-desert area the volcanic soil was red and seemed to lodge in the hems of our white coats. Our home was surrounded by rose bushes and the garden produced many varieties of fruits and vegetables. At times I could loll on the green grass lawn on a blanket with an enjoyable book or even write letters. On one side we were surrounded by an escarpment from the Rift Valley. The local people from the Iraqw tribe were not Bantu but were a branch of the Afro -Asiatic family. Long ago, some of the Iraqw people had traveled along the rift valley escarpment which originates from Ethiopia, passes through Kenya and Tanzania, and even reaches some mountains in Northwestern Uganda.
The escarpment was a beautiful 1500-foot steep backdrop to our hospital. The people were very nimble on their feet and could carry their sick relatives very easily on a mat down the hillside to the hospital. On one occasion, a group of young people were getting a ride on the road to the top of the escarpment and somehow the trailer disconnected to the tractor and about twenty-five of them tumbled down. It was pandemonium when they reached the outpatients department. My heart went out to them in their distress but I needed more hands to help me. Thank God the medical assistants helped with the fractures and lacerations, but one young girl was in severe pain and was passing blood in her urine. She did not appear to have a ruptured spleen, and I thought her kidneys were damaged in some way. I got on to the radio Tel to request a plane to take her to the specialist hospital in Moshi, then called KCMC, Kilimanjaro Christian Medical Center. That night I was called to her because she had almost stopped breathing. I had asked the nurse to administer morphine every four hours as needed for pain but somehow, she got an overdose. She responded to a dose of Narcan. As I left her breathing comfortably, I realized I could have caused an explosion in the ward. We had no electricity, and I entered the ward with a kerosene lamp which I put down near her oxygen cylinder to have a better view. What would have become of all of us when the plane landed that morning? Thank God nothing further happened, and the young girl was flown to the specialist hospital and returned to us well healed of her injuries.
I learned to love the people and their clicking language but never mastered it. I loved listening to it and at Christmas enjoyed the simple hymn honoring Mary, Ema, Mother of Jesus.
by Sr. Jo Anne Kelly, MMM Ireland 08.10.2025
Our house has been alive these days, as delegates for Our General Chapter arrived on journeys from all over our MMM world.
It reminds me of some of my own journeys. Towards the end of my first tour in Nigeria I was recuperating from illness in one of our communities and I got cut off from my own community when the Civil War began. Nobody knew what the future would bring. One of our Sisters was going home on leave so it was decided I should go with her and get well at home.
We set off early. After numerous delays of stopping and searching we reached the local airport to find all flights had been cancelled. We managed to get seats in a very crowded taxi to start our journey to Lagos. It was hazardous, stopping and checking every few miles. By nightfall we reached Benin and were warmly welcomed in a community of sisters there. Things were normal there so far and the Sisters were going out to some function. They gave us food and beds, told us to feel at home and went off.
Half an hour later we heard a car come in. Then we heard knocking on the front door and people talking. We looked down from the verandah. It was another car from the East, another MMM sister, a doctor, a young Irish nurse who was very ill and a priest whom I will call Hugh Walsh. It was not our house and we had no keys. We couldn’t do anything so they decided to go to the parish house and would check with us in the morning.
Next morning Fr. Hugh and the doctor arrived in a taxi, bound for Lagos. The nurse had been admitted in hospital and our Sister stayed with her so she could bring her home later when she was well enough to travel. We set off. Our journey to Lagos that day was another hazardous experience, more check points every few miles. The men at the check points were young and inexperienced, showing their new-found authority and were not easy to deal with. We were on the road all day and were so blessed to have Fr. Hugh. He sat in the front seat, was respectful and courteous throughout but spoke with authority and they listened to him. That made it so much easier for us.
In Lagos the doctor went his own way and we three got a flight home two days later. I never saw Fr. Hugh again but I remember his patience and strength.
Thirty eight years later I had a very different journey, this time in America on mission appeals. Sr. Anna and I arrived in Mobile, Alabama, on a Friday. A hurricane was forecast for the weekend. We got a warm welcome with Sisters who had a Nursing Home for their old and retired sisters. They were busy preparing for the hurricane. Everything movable outside had to be brought in, everything else secured and cars carefully parked. The storm was due to hit Mobil at midday on Sunday. We did go out for the Saturday Evening Mass but the wind was already very strong, people were boarding up their windows and preparing. Few came to Mass and we were so relieved to get back to the house safely.
On Sunday we all had an early lunch. Not knowing how long anything would take or what would happen we were given a snack and a torchlight, and all went to our rooms to wait out the storm. I couldn’t see much from my room, and I was curious. I ventured out and got to the sitting room. There I found old Sr. Brigid, watching television. She said “I always watch the hurricane coming in.” I started to watch too and I was literally fascinated. The sea was in turmoil, waves going miles into the sky and this ball of light moving inwards. I cannot explain such a spectacle. Brigid talked about the ’Eye of the Storm’. We sat there, just enthralled by what was happening.
Brigid and I got talking. She told me she was Irish, left home when she was 17 years old when nuns came searching for vocations. Now she was 95yrs old. She said “Those days when you went on mission you stayed on mission. There was no going home. I trained as a teacher, and all my life enjoyed teaching and working with young people”. She told me a lot about what she did and then she said, “And you, what do you do in Ireland?” I explained to her, that I actually worked in Nigeria. At that, she literally spun round to me and said. “Would you have known my baby brother, he was a priest in Nigeria?” Well, her baby brother was Fr. Hugh Walsh. I couldn’t believe it! I told her my story about Hugh.
Brigid was the eldest of a large family, Hugh was the youngest and was not born when she left home. She never saw Hugh until he was a priest and visited her in America after his ordination. After that he visited when he could. She was so thrilled to meet someone who knew him.
One never knows what any journey will bring and today all our delegates have set off on their journey to spend time listening to the Spirit of God and planning what God wants for the future of our Congregation. May it be a plan to make the world a better place, bring us some surprises and make God’s Tender Healing Love known to all with whom we come in contact.
Conflict and relationships
by Liana de Jesus, MMM Brazil 04.10.2025
Conflict is part of life. When two people live together always, they will disagree with each other. I will give some examples: in religious communities, conflicts happen because religious people are normal people, with their limits and their ways of expressing love. In families, we also have conflict and disagreement between the husband, wife and children even the preference of children in the family. Amongst us as siblings we have our differences and disagreements etc. At the parish levels the different groups want to show their best and when they are not recognized it can bring conflict of interest. I am wondering how we can address the way of living and minimize or to avoid these in our relationships in a healthy way? Conflicts are not all negative, it be positive and helps us to become mature people and to grow in learning how to respect one another.
The choices we make to live together with other people demands responsibilities from each one of us in terms of taking the initiative to be a peacemaker, which must start from me. Nobody else. it demands courage for a person to express her ways of care and to love without fear. This can be one way to face our differences and to accept that conflict is part of life and discover ways to solve it. We need to have more meaningful conversations with one another because of how we understand conflict. We have learnt it is a negative and disturbed by emotions.
We need to educate the new generations the deeper meaning of relationships among family and our differences. Without losing our values we can learn from each other. However, this is a journey that demands commitment from all of us. If I take a step towards being the best I can be in community, family, workplace, and in groups at parish we all benefit from the mutual dialogue that allows us to understand history, motivations, challenges, past and current realities. All these are part of our lives and our world.
At family level we need to do our homework to develop a future with strategies where the parents respect their children, make their decisions openly and talk about the reality of life. Together they choose values that build meaningful relationships amongst themselves. Families are the essential building blocks of communities that provide the foundation for individuals’ growth, values, and opportunities. The support and love within a family extends beyond the household to contribute to the broader community’s cohesion and prosperity for a better world.
In the local parish and community, it is a place for us to feel at home, everyone is welcome to participate and to share their talents and gifts without competition or comparison who is best. We work together in to help build a Christian community. This will bring to the environment an opportunity for our children to learn joyful and meaningful relationships and promote a better world for all of us.
by Sr. Sheila Campbell MMM Ireland 01.10.2025
I have a phrase that I sometimes use that delights one of my co-workers. It is: “It is easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission.” It speaks for a liberty of spirit and freedom from restrictive, unnecessary rules. Let me tell you how I learnt that phrase.
One day, when I was a young Sister on mission, I was dithering about doing something a little bit differently. One of the more experienced Sisters said to me: “It is easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission: go ahead with your project.” She was not giving me permission – she had no authority to do so, but she was giving me words of encouragement and asking me to trust my own judgement.
Why is it that people seem to be divided into two groups – those who recklessly go ahead with their own plans and projects (like some of our politicians!) without regarding the consequences of their actions, and a second group who see so many difficulties ahead that they become paralysed and attempt nothing?
Often, I ask myself which of these two groups do I belong? I am tempted to say that I am among the second group. At times I need to be pushed, or at least strongly encouraged to set out on a new path. The old ways are so comfortable, aren’t they?
This is when I think back to Mary, going in haste to her cousin, Elizabeth, at her hour of need. She had no GPS to guide her, but she probably took someone along with her for protection on the road. But she went – and the Gospel says she “went in haste”. No dithering for Mary.
Mother Mary Martin, our foundress, was also a woman of action. She saw the need for care of women at the time of childbirth and for the promotion of family life. She went to World War 1 to nurse, and then on to Nigeria as a lay missionary.
Today we are also called to action – to save our planet, to work for peace and justice. We cannot do it alone. We need to work together with others, in coordinated action. We need to trust God to be with us as we struggle. But we are called to get up and do something.
So today I say “Forgive me – I am going ahead with my plans” and pray that God will guide me.
by Jo Wardhaugh Doyle Ireland 27/09/2025
The farmer’s wife is secondary to the land, a mistress of sorts and most certainly during the summer months she not only feels this, but she also knows it. The farmer himself is a great man. He is a hard worker, the man who labors all hours and dreams of a good harvest, a prize bull, a great yield of hay, silage, straw, and a good price for the corn. Then you see a strutting walk, a puffed chest, a smile full of joy, shining, glowing, an exuberance of manly pride. It says look what I did this year.
“Isn’t it great Mary,” he’d sigh rubbing his head before putting back the lucky harvest cap. “I did well this year love.”
“You certainly did Dan.” Would be the yearly reply. “You certainly did my love, well done.”
She’d clean away the dishes and the table, while Dan shaved and washed by the sink saying he was off for a well-deserved pint. Mary would nod in agreement saying,
“Yes, well deserved indeed.”
Relief that at long last the misery of waiting for good weather was over. The heavens could throw open hailstones now for all she cared but these long summer months of listening that the corn might lodge, or the wheat might sprout, or it was cold or windy or the crows and rabbits would decimate the corn. There’s too much rain, there’s no sun, there’s too much sun, it’s damp, it’ll get all moldy before it’s dry enough. Then the corn gets cut and the sky opens, and you slowly watch as the golden straw starts blackening, just like the mood in the house. It’s more exhausting waiting for the weather than working like a youngster. It’s harder just listening to the woeful despair of himself, helpless in the face of the rain. But then the drying comes, the turning, the rowing up and bailing. The late nights are getting darker. Bailing before the damp hits the straw.
Cooking, baking, shopping, half rearing the grandkids, babysitting, storytelling. Rearing the few calves and weanlings, feeding the bullocks, minding the vegetable patch, cleaning the gutters, painting the fences, spraying the yard, entertaining the countless men all berating the rotten weather. Day in, day out, food on the table for the few, food on the table for the many. Cleaning the floor, doing the dishes, cooking supper. Doing his feet, so many calluses from these boots. Soaking the feet, clipping the nails like a farrier doing the horses hoofs. Checking the rash on the back of his neck. Taking the nasty blackthorn out of his hand. Injecting the bullock. Putting them all in the crush, dousing them for worms and lice, power hosing the crush down. Doing the books for the ministry of agriculture. Cooking dinner. Babysitting the grandchildren. Doing the washing, ironing, mopping the floor. Welcoming the helpers and listening to all their worries. Wishing them well in their work. Sending them off for their pint, picking up their dirty work clothes, putting the grandchildren to bed. Getting the roast out for tomorrow’s dinner, washing the spuds, chopping the carrots, baking a cake, cleaning away the mess in the kitchen.
Phone call.
“Can you pick me up love, I’ve had a few pints here and can’t afford bad luck now.” Collecting him and Paddy from down the lane, dropping him off whilst both men tell each other how wonderful they are at the marvelous work they’ve done. The farmers journal and local rag will have all the news of the difficult harvest, but how well they’ve done.
“We’ll need to be up early to move the cattle in the morning love, you don’t mind do you?” “I’ll be there.” Mary laughs.
Dans off to bed. Mary mops the floor, has a cup of tea, and watches the ten o’clock News as she missed the nine o’clock local news. The phone rings, her sisters wanting to talk. She has another cup of tea with a digestive biscuit then another. She wonders if she can ever retire from this and ponders only if he retires first can she rest. She takes her cholesterol and heart tablets and goes off to bed thinking ‘no retirement for me’: And a few pints down himself and he’s snoring like a pig trussed up for Sunday lunch, no sleep tonight.
Six o’clock, a quick breakfast. Move the cattle up to the slated shed, it’s so much easier for our zero grazer to get in. Check the calves and weanlings, in for breakfast for the young lad and a quick fry up. Clean the dishes away and get the roast on. Do the ironing, set the table for everyone to come. The day is young yet, plenty to do and now cut a bit of spanking fresh broccoli to go with the carrots and roasters. Set the table, call young Christie’s mum, and tell her he’s grand if he wants to spend another night with them. Dinner is ready. The men come in. A box of chocolates, a bunch of flowers, and an utter surprise for Mary. Gratitude all round.
The farmer’s wives I know do this and ten times more. They were never written about, acknowledged, rarely in their own house, never in their villages, and absolutely never by their government. Payment is zero, joint herd number rare, Ministry of Agriculture doesn’t account for them. Payment by no one. It is an old vocation, part of the marriage vows, the unsaid joint account of work. Farming in Ireland would collapse into a grief hole without these women, they are the backbone of this industry, mostly now in their seventies and eighties, they gave their lives to the service of the farm, the land, food production and dare I say the country. We’ll never see them up in Aras an Uachtarain .
The invisible, the unseen, the unacknowledged, the ones who seem to be worth less. No medals or awards, and if they’re lucky to have a good husband, a bunch of flowers and a meal out, or a little vase of forget me nots will suffice for them, because they are generous women, good women and maybe they are the last of their kind.
by Sr. Rita Kelly MMM Ireland 24.09.2025
How often do we hear that AI is taking over the activities of Human Beings? But is that so? With every new technology, there are positives and negatives. I would like to explore my limited understanding of AI. According to Google the definition of AI is the following:
“AI is a branch of computer science that develops machines and software with human like intelligence.”
But is human intelligence the only factor we need in this world of ours? What about compassion, love, discernment and wisdom? Looking at the state of the world, at the moment, I would say these are the values that we, humans beings need. Let us explore a few of our present-day realities.
First, parenthood. Who could replace the love a parent has for a child. The love the child needs to grow and nurture. Isaiah asks the question and the LORD responds:
“Can a woman forget her own baby and not love the child she bore? Even if a mother should forget her child, I will never forget you”(Is 49:15).
No matter the economical background, research tells us when a child experiences a stable loving family, he/she has a good foundation for life. Could Ai supply that love?
Yesterday, I attended the parish church for Mass. Children from the local primary school was attending the Mass for the start of the new School year. One could only admire the patience of the teachers and SNAs (Special Needs Attendants) in organising the children, attending, correcting and caring for about 80 boys and girls of 9, 10 and 11years old. I don’t know how AI could manage such a lively group?
Throughout the years I practiced as a community health nurse in hospitals and communities in different countries. The WHO (World Health Organisation) definition of Health is the physical, social, mental and spiritual well being of a person. One learnt to respond, not only to the medical needs of people, but to their social, mental and spiritual needs. AI will be helpful in diagnosing but certainly will never be able to give the love and compassion.
In the above three examples of parenthood, education and health I have no doubt that AI will be helpful. for example, supporting parents in shopping, helping in drawing up educational plans for teachers and diagnosing for the health professionals. But, the listening, caring, compassion and love will always be needed. AI is a positive tool which will enhance our lives, it is to know when and how to use it is the question.
by Sr. Noeleen Mooney MMM 
Ireland 20.09.2025
When I returned to Ireland after many years in East Africa, I joined a local hill-walking group. Apart from pandemic lock-downs, we meet every second Sunday, from September to June. For me, it has opened up a whole new world of challenges, new vistas and awesome beauty.
Recently, we did a sponsored walk in aid of Ukraine. It was billed as the “20, 20, 20” Challenge. It was done on March 20th, covered 20 kms and we each donated Euro 20 and it raised Euro 1000.
The walk was in the Mourne Mountains in Co. Down. We climbed three mountains. It was cold and windy, but we were sheltered for most of the journey by the Mourne Wall. This amazing structure, 1.5 metres high, stretches over thirty-one kms and passes over fifteen of the highest mountains in the region. It took twenty years to build and is a hundred years old this year. Its purpose was to protect the Silent Valley Reservoir (which supplies water to the city of Belfast) from contamination by livestock. It is crafted in huge blocks of natural granite. Stonemasons worked from mid-March to mid-October every year for eighteen years to build the wall.
When I looked at the size of the granite blocks, I realised that when they were put in place there were no modern machines for lifting or moving anything on these rugged hillsides. The strength and resilience involved are powerful testaments to the human spirit.
As we climbed that day, safely and sheltered, I will never forget the deep sense of gratitude I felt, for the freedom, for the vastness and peace that surrounded us. We also pondered on the imaginable horrors unfolding in Ukraine.
Sometimes, it takes the ‘lifting of the eyes to the mountains’ (Psalm 120) to make me realise my littleness, my utter dependence on God, and my fellow walkers. This allows me to enlarge my world, rise above the things that bog me down, and allows me to experience the sheer wonder of our natural world. I pray that the peace in my heart can spread and reach the ends of our troubled world.
by Sr. Prisca Ovat MMM Nigeria 17.09.2025
For most Africans, the police force is one of the most forbidden and God-forsaken professions to admire. Anyone who joined the police force is regarded as uneducated and desperate and is therefore considered with great disdain and identified with bribery and corruption. They mostly experience little or no regard from the civilians.
With so many ugly experiences of their activities, the latter cannot be totally criticized for their public and private expression of disapproval. Until this day, the crime rate in some parts of this continent has advanced from bad to worse, because as some of us know, mobile policemen only express interest in how much money enters their pockets and not the content of your goods. To a point, their uniforms have been modified for ease of bribe. It is no longer a secret that drivers come to checkpoints to split higher denominations into smaller ones. So, when bus transport fare remains steadily high, we get the explanation that most of what drivers make as income goes to the police.
Recently trending on social media were different occasions when policemen reportedly brutalized a motorist with a knife, flogging some and compelling others to roll over dirty and stagnant water. On another occasion, these uniformed officers threatened to shoot travellers while at the same time forcibly withdrawing money from their bank accounts in humble submission to the power and fear of a gun. What apex of audacity! With such impunity within with force, how many parents in their right disposition would recommend this to their children as a profession without contending with rebellion from the latter? The police force is a place you go to after all other options have failed.
Undoubtedly, “the police is your friend” as their popular slogan says because in actuality, the percentage of those who stick to the rules outnumber the lawbreakers, but as it is always the case, evil triumphs where it is celebrated, where corrupt leaders rule, and good becomes powerless.
Safeguarding of children and vulnerable adults as one of my previous roles as an MMM took me as far as liaising with persons in authority, just anyone who could help. The police had indeed been friends, so much so that a call away swiped them into immediate intervention. A couple of cases of child defilement and accidents brought to their table had received considerable attention as a result of their dedication to maintaining law and order. Our collaboration had been seamless which gave the reassurance that they had our backs when in need. Most of their actions I perceive, are equally intended to redeem their image and rebuild trust, and indeed, their efforts began to attract public attention.
Therefore, on the anniversary of my birth, determined to break away from the monotony of birthday celebrations, I put a call through to the Officer commanding station in my desire to share a cake with them, the response was an instant “Absolutely, thank you so much”. Upon arrival, they all assembled, chanted a birthday song, and verbally expressed their gratitude and astonishment at such a gesture never before experienced; that they could be remembered for goodness. This encounter was extraordinary. And in truth, kindness begets kindness. For them, it was an invitation to never let that spark of trust slide. When misfortune overshadows our humanity, we forget gratitude, but may goodness always triumph over evil.
by Nadia Ramoutar MMM Communications Coordinator Ireland 13.09.2025
What would you do if you were on a walk and you saw a small child drowning in a shallow pond?
This hypothetical question was asked in a powerful book I recently read called “The Life you can Save” by Peter Singer. Singer adds some more details to his thought experiment.
Imagine you are on the way to work when you see the child and you will be late. “Wading in is easy and safe, but you will ruin the new shoes you bought only a few days ago, and get your suit wet and muddy. By the time you hand the child over to someone responsible for her, and change your clothes, you’ll be late for work. What should you do?”
For most of us this is not a hard question. We would if able bodied, wade in and get the child or at least call for emergency services. Very few of us would say that we could just turn our head and walk by. Yet – and that is a very big YET, we know for a fact that people do turn away and let children die or suffer daily. Some of those people are relatives of the child.
Singer does give examples of video footage that shows how when a small infant was hurt next to road, 54 people passed by and looked the other way.
It’s a bit hard to swallow this.
Singer’s question has successfully converted many people to become more active in their volunteer and philanthropy efforts. In reading his book, I am recommitted to my efforts for children and women globally. I think the challenge though is how do we reach the 54 people who walked by and let that toddler hurt on the side of the road die in broad daylight.
How do we stop preaching to the choir? How do we get those who are not engaged to be active in caring?
Perhaps the tragedy of screens is that we are becoming more and not less desensitized to seeing children suffer. We have gotten to point where we might fix our social media so we don’t see bad news. We don’t like to read the newspaper or watch the TV news because it’s too depressing.
As more suffering emerges globally, this discomfort we want to avoid grows. But, while it is sincere to protect our mental health, can we ethically turn our heads because the children dying or suffering are not right physically next to us?
Is there a proximity to caring?
I hope not. I know that the MMMs continue to live and work in difficult, if not impossible circumstances because we cannot look away.
Thank you to those who continue to not only look but make actual strides to pray or care in some way.
Any effort or gift, no matter how small prevents us from being one of the 54 who let the infant die unaided.
