Brief synopsis of the readings: Our first reading comes from the Book of Deuteronomy (the last of the first five books of the Bible, often called the Torah or the Pentateuch). Moses, speaking before the Israelites will cross into the Promised Land without him, proclaims that God’s commandments are accessible because they are not far away, but is “in your mouth and in your heart for your observance.” Luke’s Gospel begins with a lawyer asking Jesus what it takes to inherit eternal life. Jesus tells him to “love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.” The man then asks: “And who is my neighbor?” Jesus answers him with the now famous parable of the Good Samaritan. In this parable a man was travelling from Jerusalem to Jerico but was beaten and robbed. Lying half dead, a priest and a Levite passed him by. But a Samaritan found him, bandaged his wounds, and carried him to an inn. This Samaritan gave the innkeeper money to care for this man and left. He told the innkeeper he would return, and if the man needed additional funds, he would pay for that also. Jesus then asked the lawyer who was truly the man’s neighbor to which the lawyer answered: “The one who took pity on him.” Jesus approved of this answer and told him: “Go and do the same.”
Today’s homily marks a few anniversaries, and I hope you’ll be patient with my gratitude. It was this reading, in 1992, that began my career as a homilist. I was then a seminarian and was asked to preach for the first time at Sunday mass at St. Nicholas Catholic Church in North Pole, Alaska. It went well, and as I sat down after preaching the pastor, Fr. Michael Martin, leaned over and said: “That was really good.” Some of you may know this, but as of this weekend I’ve been writing and publishing my homilies since 2013. Because the Catholic lectionary runs on a 3 year cycle, everything from this day forward can be accessed previously. That said, I promise not to rerun old homilies just for convenience (with the exception of Ash Wednesday, which I think is timeless).
As I said, our first reading comes from the Old Testament book of Deuteronomy. Much of this book consists of speeches from Moses as he bids farewell to his community. He knows their future will not include him and he prays that they will continue to be worthy of God’s promises for them. He tells them here to listen only to the voice of God and nothing else. We will do better to listen to that message.
By the time of Jesus, Moses’ words were in peril. The community that Moses blessed did not take long to split. They fell into two communities, the North and the South, Samaritans and Israelites. The Jews that we now recognize centered their faith on Jerusalem but those in the North did not. Many were conquered by the Babylonians and are lost to history, but some did not and their temple was in Mount Gerazim, not Mount Zion.
Competing descendants to Moses had, by the time of Jesus, formed into rival camps who hated each other. Both claimed to be the “chosen people” and the fact that Jesus chose our camp should not give us bragging rights.
In reality God calls us to love everyone and it’s a call we continue to ignore. While I love this reading I’m aware that the term “Samaritan” has been sanitized. We live in the 21st Century after these events and when we think of “Samaritan” we assume the word “good” proceeds it. Laws that protect us from liability when we assist strangers are called “Good Samaritan Laws.” Those who drive recreational vehicles are invited to join the “Good Sam’s Club.” But it wasn’t always that way. Jesus’ listeners heard the word “Samaritan” like many today hear the word “Muslim.”
When we hear “Muslim” many of us think “someone who we don’t know who wants to kill us.” For many of us, their skin is darker than ours. In other words we’ve become conditioned to see the world through lenses of “people who look like us” and “people who can’t be trusted.” And, without seeing this too much through the lens of current political races, we are often encouraged to retreat into exactly those fears.
And if last week’s readings call us to see what strangers offer us, today’s call us to explore how we treat them. I’m reminded of an elderly priest I met many years ago. Fr. Ed Peters attended college at the University of Texas in Austin and joined the Paulist Fathers in 1918 (he was ordained in 1924). When he travelled by train to Washington D.C. he and a friend encountered someone we would now call African American. They asked him for directions and this man pointed them in the right direction. Ed’s friend commented to him: “Did you hear that fellow? He talked just like a white man!” Ed and his friend likely had no idea that Washington D.C. at the time was essentially a segregated city and this man who helped them probably led a life marked by discrimination where he was denied the ability to vote or live where he chose. They only knew that someone who didn’t look like them spoke like them and I hope it changed how they viewed him.
Fr. Ed and his friend looked at this man and didn’t know what to think of him. But the man in the Gospel who was beaten had the opposite experience: he and the listeners of this parable looked at someone and thought they knew exactly what to think of him. The priest and the Levite were supposed to see this man as one of their own and help him. We don’t know why they didn’t, and that’s probably grist for another homily.
But the Samaritan didn’t do what was expected of him. Jesus’ parables often turn things upside down, and this is one of them. When the man was beaten and left at the side of the road he was supposed to be ignored by his enemies and helped by his friends.
But if we see this reading through the eyes of the man who was beaten and robbed, none of this matters. However he thought of priests, Levites, or Samaritans, he had to know that the hero of his story was the one who was supposed to hate him. We can only hope that this robbery victim spent the rest of his life telling his friends and family that they should love Samaritans for what this one person did. Additionally, I like to think the innkeeper also told this story.
Most of us don’t have the opportunity to reach out to and welcome Samaritans (though there remains a small group in Israel), but that misses the point. All of us know that we live alongside people who we are supposed to hate and/or distrust because they make us uncomfortable. And we do. Sometimes we distrust others because their skin looks different from ours. Sometimes they profess a faith that doesn’t agree with ours. Sometimes they love someone we don’t accept because our belief tells us that God doesn’t pair people of different races or the same sex.
A few weeks ago I had a conversation with a dear friend of my father in law’s. He told me about a recent trip to another town. He had a rental car but lacked a good map or functional GPS. Hot and frustrated, he went into a convenience store to get something to drink. The man behind the counter not only gave him directions, but also helped him with his cell phone. He downloaded a program for him that would make it much easier for him to navigate the city. At the end of the story, this friend told me: “And I have to tell you, he was Muslim. I’ve had a hard time with Muslims, but this man was so kind to me. I just don’t know.”
Yes, he does know. He knows that he can no longer safely hid behind an easy prejudice because his experience has informed him of the message of this Gospel. His world has become more complicated, but also more authentic.
At the end of the day, if Jesus tells us anything, he tells us that God does not respect our prejudices. We live in a world of Jews and Samaritans. Africans, Europeans, Asians, Americans. Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Atheists.
But all of us, all of us, are called to see each other as children of God, as those we are called to love, and those we are called to reach out to. We may never be called to come to the rescue of someone who was beaten and left at the side of the road: parables like this often point to extreme examples.
But we can start where we are. Maybe we can hold open a door for someone or call out someone who tells an off color joke.
But we are all called to do something.