We have a duty to ensure that patients don't have to worry

When Jeff Merkley declared, “We have a duty to ensure that patients don't have to worry whether they'll be dropped from their coverage if they get sick. Small business owners shouldn't have to break the bank to provide coverage to their employees. And families should not be forced into bankruptcy because of a medical crisis,” he spoke not merely as a legislator, but as a guardian of compassion, echoing a truth that transcends time: that the health of a people is the foundation of their freedom. His words are not the language of politics, but of principle — the principle that health care is not a privilege bestowed by wealth, but a sacred duty shared by all who live within a just society.

To ensure that no patient fears abandonment in their hour of need is to affirm the very essence of civilization. In ancient times, when the cities of Greece and Rome rose to glory, they understood that the strength of a nation lay not in its armies, but in the well-being of its citizens. A city where the sick were left to perish was a city already dying in spirit. Merkley’s words remind us that the test of a nation’s greatness lies not in its monuments or markets, but in how it treats its most vulnerable — the ill, the weary, the struggling worker who labors not for glory, but for survival. For what is the worth of prosperity if it demands the suffering of those who built it?

The origin of this wisdom is rooted in both ancient ethics and modern necessity. From the Hippocratic Oath to the teachings of Confucius, the ancients proclaimed that those who have the power to heal — whether physician, leader, or citizen — also bear the responsibility to protect. Merkley’s declaration arises from this same moral lineage. He speaks not only to governments, but to the conscience of humankind: that we must build systems where care is not conditional and compassion is not priced. For every age has known its own form of plague — and in ours, the plague is indifference, the slow decay of empathy beneath the weight of profit.

Consider the tale of Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell, the first woman to receive a medical degree in the United States. She entered the field not for fame, but because she had seen too many lives destroyed by preventable illness and neglect. She wrote, “It is not the easy road, but it is the right one.” Like Merkley, she saw health not as an industry, but as a moral trust. She fought for hospitals that would care for the poor and clinics that would serve the forgotten. Her legacy endures in every law, every voice that rises to say — no family should face ruin because they sought healing. This, too, is Merkley’s call: to carry forward that ancient and eternal struggle for dignity through care.

Merkley’s words also speak to the plight of the small business owner, the craftsman, the builder — the modern descendants of those who, in olden days, sustained the village and the market through honest labor. In a just society, those who give others work should not be punished for their generosity. The burden of health should not crush those who build the pillars of economy. His words remind us that fairness is not found in favoring the powerful, but in lifting the burdens of the ordinary. As the old proverb says, “The well of the city must be deep enough for all to drink.” So, too, must the well of health care flow freely for workers and employers alike, or the body of the nation will wither from within.

And what of families, those sacred circles of love and endurance? When Merkley says they should not be “forced into bankruptcy because of a medical crisis,” he speaks to the heart of every parent who has ever watched a child fall ill and feared not only for their life, but for their home. This is a terror no human being should know — that mercy should come at the cost of ruin. In the ancient world, debt was a form of slavery; today, medical debt has become its cruel echo. To free people from that bondage is not merely good policy — it is moral redemption. It restores to them their dignity, their hope, and the faith that their society values their humanity more than their wealth.

There is power in Merkley’s call to duty. He reminds us that compassion must not be an afterthought; it must be our architecture. The ancients built aqueducts to carry water to every citizen; we must build systems that carry care to every soul. The health of one is the health of all, for when suffering is ignored, the whole body of society sickens. And when one life is restored, the world itself grows stronger. This is the ancient law of interdependence — the recognition that we are bound together, and that the good of each life strengthens the destiny of all.

Thus, the lesson of Jeff Merkley’s words is both simple and eternal: justice begins with compassion, and compassion demands action. Do not look away when others suffer; do not excuse indifference with the illusion of order. If you are a leader, fight for the systems that heal. If you are a citizen, lift your voice in defense of those who cannot speak. If you are fortunate, share your fortune to shield another from despair. For the ancients knew — and we must remember — that the measure of any civilization is not its wealth, but its mercy. When we make it our duty to protect one another, we fulfill the oldest and highest purpose of humanity: to care, to heal, and to ensure that no one, in sickness or in poverty, is ever left behind.