If you truly believe in the value of life, you care about all of

Hear now the wisdom of Joni Eareckson Tada, who proclaimed: “If you truly believe in the value of life, you care about all of the weakest and most vulnerable members of society.” In this teaching lies the very soul of compassion, the flame that distinguishes the humane from the heartless. For what is the measure of a people? Is it the grandeur of their cities, the treasures in their vaults, or the might of their armies? No—it is found in how they regard the frail, the forgotten, the ones who have no strength to demand justice for themselves. To honor the weakest is to reveal the noblest spirit of mankind.

The ancients knew this truth well. Among the Greeks, it was said that the gods walked hidden among mortals, often disguised as beggars or the infirm, testing whether men would show mercy to the vulnerable. Those who turned their faces away fell under divine judgment, but those who opened their doors to the lowly were blessed beyond measure. Thus, even in myth, humanity understood: to despise the vulnerable is to despise life itself; to cherish them is to walk in harmony with heaven.

History gives us stories that embody this truth. Recall the life of Mother Teresa, who walked the crowded streets of Calcutta, where the poorest of the poor lay abandoned. To the world, they were outcasts—too frail, too broken, too diseased to matter. Yet she lifted them from the dust, washed their wounds, and cradled them as children of infinite worth. She did not ask if they were rich, powerful, or beautiful. She saw in each the sacred image of life itself. Her example is a living testimony that to care for the vulnerable is to stand upon the highest moral ground.

But this teaching is not only for saints. It is a call for all who walk the earth. To say you value life while neglecting the unborn, the elderly, the disabled, or the destitute is to utter an empty word. True reverence for life demands action: to lend your hand, to raise your voice, to bend your strength for those who have none. When society casts aside its weakest, it corrodes its own foundation. When it lifts them up, it shines with a light that cannot be extinguished.

The value of life is not measured in productivity or power. The infant who cannot yet speak, the elder whose strength is gone, the person bound by disability—all these are treasures of equal worth. Civilization becomes barbarism the moment it forgets this truth. For if only the strong are honored, then all are at risk, for strength fades with time, and one day, each of us becomes weak. To guard the vulnerable is to guard the dignity of all.

Let this lesson be clear: a society that wishes to endure must make space for its weakest members. This means building communities where no child is abandoned, where no elder dies alone, where no person is cast aside because of frailty. It means schools that welcome the disabled, homes that open their doors to the poor, and hearts that see beyond appearances to the sacred worth of every soul. These are not lofty dreams—they are daily choices, forged in kindness and defended by courage.

Therefore, beloved listener, take these words as a charge: in your home, be attentive to the forgotten; in your neighborhood, watch for those who struggle unseen; in your nation, advocate for those who cannot speak for themselves. Do not imagine your part too small, for a single act of mercy is like a seed that grows into a great tree, sheltering many. To live this way is to honor the eternal truth of life’s worth, and to walk as a guardian of the flame of humanity.

And so, let us remember Tada’s words as a sacred reminder for all generations: “If you truly believe in the value of life, you care about all of the weakest and most vulnerable members of society.” May this be the measure of our civilization, the heartbeat of our compassion, and the legacy we leave to those yet unborn.