I could think of many reason why it would be morally justified to take my water and keep walking, but that is not the way I would really think of it.

I think that what we become is in a large part due to the decisions we make. I could either leave my companion and live, or stay with him until he dies, likely dying myself. Given these alternatives, I would rather be the kind of person who stayed, and paying with my life would not be too high a price to pay to become that person.

This is influenced by my belief that there is a resurrection. I can picture myself in heaven, looking back on this fateful decision, seeing the grace that I could have gotten were I too live a long, long life verses the grace I could have gotten in those few hours of living and dying in solidarity with my brother, and I would have to choose the latter.

But perhaps I am just a sucker.

I would do the best I could to protect him from the elements and move on for help. As long as there is a chance that one or both can live, the effort to save my life and possibly his, is a God given obligation.

Preserving your life at the cost of another is far from a God given obligation.

I think I’m with Scott on this one. This life is not all that there is. I would like to think that I wouldn’t make my decision as if it were.

I would leave the water with the injured man to prolong his life and, pray to God send to us, help, to protect and save our lives and to watch over us as I continued ahead in search of help.

For me when I pray to God, it is always in Jesus name.

I think all are driven by what is valued. If hope is valued, it is necessary to do all that is possible to save the vessel of hope, namely, life. We will leave this life with love, hope and faith. I see no reason to diminish hope.

What I see in Scott’s comment is a desire to be a martyr. I think he is right in saying “What we become is in a large part due to the decisions we make” but, even more so, what we are is what we value. If hope is important, why give in to despair and die with a friend? If hope is not important, what is being sacrificed to be a martyr?

There’s a quote from a Star Trek movie that sums up my answer to all these types of questions: I don’t believe in the no-win scenario.

This conversation reminds me of the guy who sat on his roof as the flood waters rose and rose. A boat came by, and he said “No thanks, for the Lord will save me.” Then a helicopter came by, and he said “No thanks, for the Lord will save me.” Eventually the water rose over his roof, swept him away, and he drowned. When he got to heaven he asks God, “Why didn’t you save me?” God responds, “I sent a boat and a helicopter, what more do you want?”

How do you know God didn’t decide that he wants you to go on, or that he decided it was time for your companion to die? That’s what I love about this question: Everyone assumes that they know what the Lord is thinking. You may stay with him and die in the heat too, only to get to Heaven and the Lord asks you “What did you do that for?”.

God gave us a brain and the ability to use logic too. I wouldn’t drive somewhere in a desert without letting someone know where I was going. I would have more water than two canteens full if I was going in a desert. I wouldn’t let anyone that was with me waste their water by drinking it all right away. I would set the car on fire to create a smoke signal.

In short, I wouldn’t disrespect God’s faith in giving me life by being so careless with it.

This a very interesting question, especially if one considers the wording you used. A companion, as a opposed to a friend or an enemy, could entice people to go with one solution or another, based on the state of the relatinship. But just asking about a non-descript “companion”, one is not immediately drawn toward one particular response.

My initial reaction was to consider my options. These all assume I do what I can to protect myself from the heat and the sun. First, I could leave my companion, take all my water, and try to make the main road in hopes of sending back help. Second, I could leave part of my water with the companion, become even more restrictive with my water intake and try for the road, once again, sending back help. Third, I could stay with the companion. Fourth, I could attempt to improvise a litter to attempt to drag the companion to safety. (I’ve had too many first aid classes!!)

I would probably prioritize them as follows. I would do what I could to save both lives. So, my first instinct would be do try to McGyver a litter. Failing to do that and, again, attempting to save both, I would leave half of the water behind and go for help, unless it was clear it would be a waste because my companion would immediately drink it all. If that were true, I’d probably try to get help, using all the water. The last, to me, is not a likely option in that both of us are virtually guaranteed to die. Personally, I would have to make some effort to save whom I could.

This is another version of the so-called lifeboat game. It is true that the answers people give say a lot about their religious or moral belief system. What is more significant (to me) is the no-win aspect that is presented.

God rarely puts us in this kind of stark moral situation and demands these kinds of choices.

I’m going to choose to abstain on the question, stating that none of us knows how we would actually react in a situation like this. I would suggest that a significant part of the answer would depend on (a) the relationship I have with the other person, and (b) what that other person wants to have happen. The stark choice is set up as if the companion is not also a living, breathing human with opinions and beliefs of his own.

“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” I would have to put myself in my friend’s shoes here. What if I were the wounded individual in a situation from which I could not extricate myself, and was a detriment to the survival of another?

My leg is broken. I cannot travel. In less than three days I will die of dehydration, and it will be very painful. Because of the circumstances, my friend will die if he stays. Even if he is successful in making it to find help, by the time help arrives, I will be dead.

I have made my peace with God. Give him the water. Tell him to go. If he is a mere aqaintance, encourage him to go under pretext of getting help. If he is a close, trusted friend, remind him that there is an afterlife, I will be with him always, and ask him to grant me a merciful death before he goes.

“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

I have the water, and the unbroken leg, though.

Stay with him if he wishes it. Die with him if he wishes it, and without complaint. Give him the water.

I have friends who are close enough to me, and of like enough mind, to know what must be done. I would do it if he asked. This is a hard question. We all like to think that we would lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters. Would we, if we were asked, have the guts to allow them to lay down their lives for us? Would we be able to live with ourselves?

I would prefer to live, but I would let my friend make that choice for me. If wounded, and unable to travel while in terrain that would kill my friend if he stayed, I would make him go on, after first granting me a merciful death.

My friends believe as I do: Staying alive is very important, but life is not everything. An afterlife awaits us all. Just the other day a close friend told me what he wanted as an epitaph: “I want what John Wayne said in Hondo, ‘Everybody gets the chance to be dead; it was his turn.’”

Reality is harsh. Idealism just doesn’t cut it. The pragmatic solutions are never pretty.