Prodded to be a Good Samaritan

Homily for the 15th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Which of these three, in your opinion,
was neighbor to the robbers’ victim?”
He answered, “The one who treated him with mercy.”
Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.” (Lk 10:25-37)

The question the scribe had for Jesus was, “Who is my neighbor?”  

Jesus answers with a familiar parable on the Good Samaritan.  A man is robbed and abandoned on the side of the road to die.  A priest passed by.  A Levite passed by.  Both crossed to the other side.  A Samaritan, helped the man.  Jesus asked the scribe this question:  “Who was the neighbor to the man?”

My question to you is this: Would you stop?  If you saw a bloody pile of clothing on the side of the road, would you stop to help this man? 

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Here’s a true story that happened here twenty years ago.  On my way to church, I picked up an inmate from Catawba Correctional Center to bring him to church.  About ten minutes before Mass was to start, my wife arrived.  She said to me, “There’s a man in the highway in front of the rectory.  He’s lying halfway on the road.  You need to help him.”  I said, “Mass is about to start.  I’ve got to get vested.”  Then she gave me the look and said again, “You need to help him.” 

I looked away.  The inmate recognized what I was feeling.  Fear.  He said, “Don’t worry.  I got your back.”   It helped that he had the prisoner’s body, one that comes from a lot of time on your hands and nothing to do but lift weights.

We walked to the man on the road.  He was wearing ragged clothing.  He had blood on his ear.  He smelled like Listerine.  He was lying down on the curb, with half of his legs on the highway.  I figured he either had an all-nighter or just got released from the jail up the street. 

I told him politely, “Sir, I need you to get off the road.”  He was a little groggy, and mumbled, “Leave me alone.”  I asked him again and received the same response.  I reached down for him and said, “Let me help you up.”    He pulled back, his way of saying, “Do not touch me.”

I then stepped off of the curb into the highway.  I said, “I am worried you’re going to get hit by a car.  So I am going to stand between you and oncoming traffic until you get out of the road.  He slowly got up, and started walking down the highway. 

I told him the church service is about to start.  See me after it is over if you need some help. 

~

Back to my original question, “Would you stop?”  About half of the people coming to church that morning did not stop.  Why?  Like me in the vestibule, they might have been in a hurry.  Mass was about to start.  They might have had something better to do.  “I have to get vested.”  Or they might have been afraid. 

There is another reason.  They might have been blind to the need of this other person.  Our eyes don’t look for the forgotten, the marginalized, or what Pope Francis calls “the throwaways”.  What Jesus calls “our neighbors.” Once I started doing ministry to the homeless, my eyes were opened.  I see them everywhere.   

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Here’s the rest of the story.  During communion, the man wandered in the church.  I watched him sit down next to someone who was kneeling.  The person who was kneeling looked over at the man.  I could see shock or surprise on his face, and he went into an intense praying posture.  I don’t know if he was praying for this man, or praying for him to go away.  After Mass, people saw me talking to him.  It’s as if their eyes were opened.  They saw a neighbor who needed assistance.  Some got him food.  Some offered to buy some clothing.  One gave him a ride back to Granite Falls.

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The answer is either yes or no.  Pope Francis in Fratelli Tutti said, “It is remarkable how the various characters in the story change, once confronted by the painful sight of the poor man on the roadside. The distinctions between Judean and Samaritan, priest and merchant, fade into insignificance. Now there are only two kinds of people: those who care for someone who is hurting and those who pass by; those who bend down to help and those who look the other way and hurry off. Here is the moment of truth. Will we bend down to touch and heal the wounds of others? Will we bend down and help another to get up? This is today’s challenge, and we should not be afraid to face it.” (70)

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There is a metaphor embedded in this parable.  We are the victim of robbery.  In the Garden of Eden, Satan robbed humanity of innocence, intimate communion with God, and life in abundance, and replaced them with lies, division, and death.  We have wounded and abandoned on the side of the road.  Jesus is the Samaritan, a traveller in a foreign land.  The Levite and Priest are the power structures of the world.  They can’t save us.  They even walk to the other side to avoid encountering our pain.  Jesus is the only one who can bind our wounds and heal us with the sacramental signs of oil, water, and wine.  He is the one who pays the debt to the innkeeper for our continued healing. 

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In this Eucharistic celebration, the Good Samaritan comes to us.  Like the man, we receive healing and redemption from the sacrament.  We become the body and blood of our Lord, including his eyes and his heart.. 

Jesus saw the wounded people in a broken world.  He came to heal those wounds and restore life. Jesus asks us to open our eyes and commands us:  “Go and do likewise.”