Brotherhood of Man

“Practicing medicine isn’t all that hard when everyone pays attention.” We were standing outside my mom’s hospital room when her doctor spoke these words to me. Healthcare workers bustled around us – gowned, masked, their hair covered to keep out COVID. My mere presence in this space was precarious. I was one of very few visitors allowed to stay with a family member during a non-COVID hospitalization.

Standing in that hallway, everything around me suggested that getting a group of doctors to pay attention to one complex case, when so many sick patients vied for their attention, would be a tall order. Yet he stood firm, looking out through the deep pools of humanity reflected in his eyes.

I was reminded of my favorite sculpture by the late Clement (“Clem”) Renzi. Called Brotherhood of Man, it stands outside our courthouse in Fresno County Plaza. The statue depicts three human figures cast in bronze, sitting around a table and looking intently at one another, each paying close attention to what is being said. The sculpture is an homage to an old-time Fresno radio show, moderated by a priest, a rabbi and a minister, that was named “The Forum for Better Understanding.” Its mission was to promote interfaith dialogue among the diverse peoples of our community.

Growing up in Fresno, I was fortunate to study voice with the sculptor’s wife, the late Dorothy Renzi. I remember Clem as Dorothy’s quietly charming husband – this famous artist who adorned our public spaces with his beautiful sculptures. But there’s something more to The Brotherhood of Man that calls me often to Courthouse Park for contemplation. It is something beyond beauty.

Back in that hospital corridor with my mom’s doctor, I realized what that something is. It is the effort of bridge-building. It is the effort of active listening, punctuated by a deep desire to understand another person’s experience or point of view. It is the effort to inspire our co-workers to pay attention to a problem in need of solving, and it was on full display in our doctor’s domain. He communicated frequently and thoughtfully with his colleagues behind the scenes. He visited our hospital room often, even on his day off. And when he could not be there in person, he sent text messages apprising us of new developments in my mom’s case. Perhaps most importantly, he listened to us with that active stillness embodied in Clem’s work. And slowly but surely, my mom got better. She is now convalescing in the comfort of her home.

Reflecting back on our experience, it occurred to me that my mom’s doctor is a microcosm of the larger scientific and medical communities, who developed and licensed a COVID vaccine in record time – a feat only conceivable when lots of people are collectively paying attention. It was wonderful and deeply heartening to see such excellence right here in our Valley, and to be treated with such dignity and care. Surely no one is perfect, and no system is perfect, but what I saw gave truth to the idea that a few people exerting themselves to build bridges can indeed initiate a brotherhood of man. In this respect, is it any wonder that we call healthcare workers ‘heroes’?