The Good Samaritan

Today’s Gospel is familiar and beloved, and I want to take a look at it in a moment, but I’d like to start by putting it in context with the first two readings.

The first reading – from Deuteronomy – is part of a farewell speech that Moses offers to the Israelites before they enter the promised land. After 40 years of wandering in the wilderness, he says to them “if only you would heed the voice of the Lord…his commands are not mysterious and remote, up in the sky or across the sea. No, they are near to you, already in your hearts….you have only to carry it out.”

Whenever we read the Old Testament, it’s always worth remembering that in baptism, we become members of God’s covenant. When we read Israel’s history, we’re reading about the development of God’s work in history, how we came to be God’s people. When Moses is talking to Israel, he is talking to us. When Moses says the law of God is already in our hearts, he means that we usually know what God wants – but we haggle, we bargain, we pretend that God’s commands are far away, remote and impossible. In fact, we need to stop negotiating, to get on and do it.

Today’s second reading explains why. “Christ Jesus is the image of the invisible God…in him all things were created….in him all things hold together...in him all the fullness was pleased to dwell…through him all things were reconciled.”

Dear people of God – we were made in and for Christ Jesus. When we wake up in the morning, when we make our decisions and choices, when we lie on our beds at night – we belong to him, and all roads lead to him.

Of course, we have choices. We are made in the image of God, but we can fill our lives with distractions that make that reality feel dull and distant. Like Israel in the desert, we probably need a reminder. Like Israel in the desert, we can live in a constant state of adolescent rebellion, if we choose. But no joy and fruit will come from that way of life.

John Paul the Second often used a phrase “the law of the gift.” What he meant by that was that Jesus is the secret to human identity, and he became who he was by giving himself away, through sacrificial love. Therefore, the “law of the gift” - to be who we are created to be, to live fruitfully and joyfully, there is no shortcut but to live the same way. Since all things cohere in Christ, to fulfill our destiny, we too must find ways of donating our lives in love.

Now we come to today’s Gospel, which is one example of how this works. A lawyer has come to test Jesus. He comes to negotiate. He’s mouthed the formula – you shall love the Lord and your neighbor, etc. – but his real motive is to negotiate a spiritual life on his own terms. He knows he’s somehow implicated in this God business – he is "religious" - but he is guarding his heart. His ultimate loyalty belongs to himself. He is afraid to offer the inner man.

So when the Gospel says he was testing Jesus, his “who is my neighbor” question isn’t a real question. Honest questions are always, always welcome, but this question is actually the opening move in a negotiation. In this case, "who is my neighbor" actually means “who counts – where can we draw the boundaries – how can I check the box, and move on.” This guy is wheedling in order to have a spiritual life on his own terms.

And in response, Jesus sees into his heart, and has a sense for how this lawyer needs to recalibrate. Jesus’s response is the parable of the Good Samaritan. He asks – who acted like a neighbor? The Good Samaritan is the hero because he puts himself in the position of being a neighbor in an otherwise painful situation, creating a neighborly relationship where previously none had existed.

The parable ends with Jesus saying “go and do likewise,” commanding us all to transpose the Good Samaritan into our own lives. Who are the inconvenient people in our lives? do I have to be kind to them too? The parable says stop acting like a lawyer. Stop haggling, behold the image of God, love, serve – perceive the law of the gift, and create a neighbor.

I often say that our faith is a superpower, enabling us to see things we would otherwise overlook. In our own lives, with the eyes of faith, the weirdos, the unpopular, the uncool, the new people, the unfamiliar people, all the inconvenient people – Jesus reveals them to be our neighbors. They need us to notice them, to welcome them, to love them.

Lately the Church has been insisting that the unborn – whether they’re ten minutes, ten days, or ten weeks old – that these children in the womb are made in the image of God, and count as our neighbor. In some ways, everything Catholics want to say about abortion is a transposition of the Good Samaritan, where we’re supposed to stop haggling, stop trying to draw boundaries about who counts. Both the mother and the child are our neighbors, the image of God, worthy of love, protection, and service.

So our faith is a superpower, opening our eyes to possibilities we might otherwise miss or overlook. With worldly eyes, certain people might be strangers or antagonists, but with the eyes of faith, we see the opportunity to create neighbors.

Every week, our parish bulletin has a dozen opportunities to be a neighbor. On the first page, we’ve got our prayer intentions. So many sick, each name an opportunity to volunteer and bring the Eucharist to the homebound. The second page has our parish calendar: I’m guessing Mr. Cillo would accept volunteers to help with the teens, and you’re also invited to the climate ministry meeting on Monday night. And there’s a statement from the Archbishop about our holistic response to abortion, as well as an opportunity to donate and help. Page three has more about the environment, page four has a column from Fr. John about gun violence and the need for God. Page six has a book group discussing Catholic responses to racism, and there’s also an invitation for parents of tots to meet each other and form friendships.

And on it goes. None of us can do it all. But week after week in parish life, so many invitations to be the Good Samaritan, to cross the road and create neighbors.

Each one of these invitations is a proposal about what it means to be a human being. This is evangelism, saying there’s something more and better than the myth of aloof self-sufficiency, autonomy, withdrawal, and self-service. This is the Church flipping the script on what it means to be fully alive.

I had a drink this week with a couple of parishioners. One woman shared that her corporate job was difficult because people were so mean, so hard on one other. She said people in her office consumed each other, using each other not as people but as cogs in the money machine.

But this woman is a Christian, and she’s got the superpowers. She’s kind, in an office where most people are rough. She’s showing that a different way of living is possible. I don’t know how long she’ll keep up that job – God may be calling her elsewhere. But for now, she is the Good Samaritan in that office. Her way of living in that office is a witness to an alternative reality.

In our families, in our neighborhoods, where we work, online and in social media, and here in our parish – we have the same superpower, the grace, to live this way. The law of the gift is not a remote and distant law. When Jesus says “go and do likewise,” he is asking us to give ourselves away in sacrificial love. When Jesus says, “go and do likewise,” he is asking us to be transparent to an alternative reality, and so we are honored to be his people, to be people who create neighbors. Amen.