“He lifted him onto his donkey”
The Good Samaritan
Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time July 11, 2010
The Good Samaritan
Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time July 11, 2010
First reading from Deuteronomy
Then Moses said to the people: "The command that I am giving you today is not too difficult or beyond your reach. It is not up in the sky. You do not have to ask, `Who will go up and bring it down for us, so that we can hear it and obey it.’ Nor is it on the other side of the ocean. You don’t have to ask, `Who will go across the ocean and bring it to us, so that we may hear it and obey it?’ No, it is here with you. You know it and quote it, so now obey it.”
The word of the Lord
Thanks be to God
Alleluia, alleluia.
A reading from the holy Gospel according to Luke.
Glory to you, Lord.
There was a scholar of the law who stood up to test Jesus and asked, “Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus said to him, “What is written in the law? How do you read it?” He replied: “You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your being, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and you shall love your neighbor as yourself.[1]” Jesus said to the scholar, “You have answered correctly; do this and you will live.” But because he wanted to justify himself, he said to Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”
Jesus replied with a parable. A Jew on his way from Jerusalem to Jericho fell into the hands of bandits who stripped him of his clothes, and left him lying half-dead beside the road. A priest who happened to be going down that road saw the poor him, crossed to the other side, and passed him by. Along came a Temple Assistant[2] who also saw the victim, crossed to the other side and passed him by. But then along came a despised Samaritan[3] who saw the poor man and was filled with compassion. He did not pass him by but stopped to pour oil and wine over his wounds and bandaged them. Then he lifted him onto his donkey and took him to the nearest inn, where he provided for his care and cure. The next day he handed the innkeeper two silver coins[4] with the instruction, “Take care of him. And if the bill runs higher than that, I’ll make up the difference on my way back.” Now which of these three, in your opinion, proved himself to be a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of bandits? He answered, “The one who stopped and treated him with mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.” (Luke 10:25-37)
Jesus replied with a parable. A Jew on his way from Jerusalem to Jericho fell into the hands of bandits who stripped him of his clothes, and left him lying half-dead beside the road. A priest who happened to be going down that road saw the poor him, crossed to the other side, and passed him by. Along came a Temple Assistant[2] who also saw the victim, crossed to the other side and passed him by. But then along came a despised Samaritan[3] who saw the poor man and was filled with compassion. He did not pass him by but stopped to pour oil and wine over his wounds and bandaged them. Then he lifted him onto his donkey and took him to the nearest inn, where he provided for his care and cure. The next day he handed the innkeeper two silver coins[4] with the instruction, “Take care of him. And if the bill runs higher than that, I’ll make up the difference on my way back.” Now which of these three, in your opinion, proved himself to be a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of bandits? He answered, “The one who stopped and treated him with mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.” (Luke 10:25-37)
The Gospel of the Lord.
Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
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Introduction
The mother of all parables
Introduction
The mother of all parables
The most cherished of Jesus’ parables are found in Luke’s gospel. In Luke only is found the Parable of the Rich Fool, who built bigger and better bins in which to store all his wealth, and when he died couldn’t take any of it with him. (Lk 12:13-21) Only in Luke is found the Parable of the Dives who was splendidly clothed and daily lived in great luxury, while poor Lazarus lay at his gate crying for crumbs. (Lk 16: 19-31) Only Luke relates the Parable of the Prodigal Son who, after squandering his inheritance in a foreign land, is welcomed back home by a father who is prodigal with forgiveness. (Lk 15:11-32) And only Luke relates that mother of all parables: The Good Samaritan. He stopped to pour the oil of compassion upon a poor man who had been waylaid by bandits, and whom “men of the cloth” passed right by. (Lk l0: 25-37) What Jesus says about the first and the greatest of all the commandments, can be said of this parable: “Upon it rest the whole Law and the Prophets.” (Mt 22:40)
This sparkling gem is read at Sunday Mass only once every three years – on the Fifteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time, Cycle C! Read only once in 156 weeks! What a waste!
This sparkling gem is read at Sunday Mass only once every three years – on the Fifteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time, Cycle C! Read only once in 156 weeks! What a waste!
My story and this parable
For personal reasons the parable of the Good Samaritan is the mother of all parables for me. My Italian immigrant parents seeking a better life came to America at the turn of the twentieth century. They, however, didn’t fare very well in this great land of opportunity. Our mother was taken from us when we were very young. Throughout our tender and formative years, we had no mother, our father had no helpmate, and our house had no soul. We lived in a typical little American town with its neat little houses all lined up on neat city blocks, and in those houses lived “practicing” Protestants and Catholics.
None of them, however, stopped to pour the oil of compassion upon our family waylaid by fate (or divine Providence?) on the road to Jericho. Our neighbors didn’t despise us Italian immigrants, but neither did they really love us. The golden rule to “Mind your own business” was conveniently observed by them, as was the strange warning to “Take care, for no good deed goes unpunished.” Only later on in life, when I was able to sort things out for myself, did it dawn on me that those “neighbors” weren’t really neighbors at all. Like the Jewish priest and the Temple Assistant who walked right by a man waylaid by bandits, our “neighbors” had walked right by our family waylaid by fate on the road to Jericho.
None of them, however, stopped to pour the oil of compassion upon our family waylaid by fate (or divine Providence?) on the road to Jericho. Our neighbors didn’t despise us Italian immigrants, but neither did they really love us. The golden rule to “Mind your own business” was conveniently observed by them, as was the strange warning to “Take care, for no good deed goes unpunished.” Only later on in life, when I was able to sort things out for myself, did it dawn on me that those “neighbors” weren’t really neighbors at all. Like the Jewish priest and the Temple Assistant who walked right by a man waylaid by bandits, our “neighbors” had walked right by our family waylaid by fate on the road to Jericho.
A great mystery
That, I believe, explains, partially at least, my great affection for this parable, and why I call it the “mother of all parables.” It also explains why I never walk by any creature in need, be it animal or human, but always stop to pour the oil of compassion. (The other day, I stopped to pick up a young sparrow which needed help. I took him home and fed him with an eyedropper, until he was strong enough to fly away.) If I cannot stop, either because there’s absolutely no time to stop, or it’s too dangerous to stop because of bandits, I continue on my way, saddened because I could not stop.
Sometimes people who have been “walked by” in life choose to “get even” and walk by others, as others have “walked by” them. Strange to say, sometimes just the very opposite happens: sometimes they who have been “walked by” choose not to do to others what others have done to them. They choose instead to stop and pour the oil of compassion. It is an utter mystery why one will choose to ”get even” by walking by, and another will choose to stop.
Sometimes people who have been “walked by” in life choose to “get even” and walk by others, as others have “walked by” them. Strange to say, sometimes just the very opposite happens: sometimes they who have been “walked by” choose not to do to others what others have done to them. They choose instead to stop and pour the oil of compassion. It is an utter mystery why one will choose to ”get even” by walking by, and another will choose to stop.
A diamond with many facets
A parable, like a diamond, can have many facets. A mystic friend points out a fascinating facet she discovers in this parable:
I am just like the Good Samaritan in Jesus’ parable: all I can do is pick up the half-dead man and dump him off on someone else to care for him. It's the long haul that counts. It’s abiding and costly care that counts. So in my book it’s the innkeeper who’s the Good Samaritan!
She uncovers another fascinating facet in this parable when she writes:
I know that a man is lying out there half-dead. I also know that I can’t cope with it. So I don’t go to Jericho. I stay in Jerusalem within the security of the Temple where I live out bread-breaking symbolically. I substitute liturgical bread-breaking at Sunday Mass for the real thing!
A parable about morality
One facet of the Good Samaritan parable concerns morality. There is an age-old tendency to situate morality quite totally in the area of sex. Such morality is always busy pursuing politicians who have had sex affairs, like South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford or recently former vice-president Al Gore. On the other hand, the New Testament in general and the parable of the Good Samaritan in particular, do not situate the heart of morality in the area of sex but of charity and compassion. Jesus crafts a parable about a Jewish priest and Levite who commit a gross act of immorality right out in the open. On the road to Jericho these two fellows walked right by a man who had been waylaid by bandits and left half-dead. My gosh! How much more immoral than that can you get!
Then along came a Samaritan who, though he had a reputation in Jericho for being a womanizer, stopped to pour the oil of compassion on the poor man. After treating his wounds, the Samaritan hoisted him onto his donkey and hurried him off to the nearest inn. There he dug deep into his pocket to pay for the man’s care and cure. My gosh! How much more moral than that can you get! (Lk 10:25-37).
Then along came a Samaritan who, though he had a reputation in Jericho for being a womanizer, stopped to pour the oil of compassion on the poor man. After treating his wounds, the Samaritan hoisted him onto his donkey and hurried him off to the nearest inn. There he dug deep into his pocket to pay for the man’s care and cure. My gosh! How much more moral than that can you get! (Lk 10:25-37).
A parable about prejudice
Another facet of the parable concerns prejudice. Jews had a prejudice regarding Samaritans. They considered them as half-breeds (not pure Jews)and heretics who worshipped on Mount Gerizim instead of in the Temple in Jerusalem. (Jn 4:20) In Jesus’ day, “Samaritan” was a dirty name which one Jew would call another Jew when he was angry. One day during a heated conversation, some fellow Jews blurted out at Jesus: “You’re a dirty Samaritan, and you're possessed by a demon![5]" (Jn 8:48) Jesus chooses to swim against the current; He crafts a parable which portrays two Jews (the priest and Levite) as bad guys and a Samaritan as a good guy. His parable does such an excellent job of rehabilitating the word “Samaritan” that down through ages it has come to mean a compassionate person who stops for someone in need. The only kind of Samaritan there is -- is a good one!
Why did Jesus craft a parable to rehabilitate “Samaritan?” Perhaps it was because He remembered the time when on His way to Jerusalem He cured ten lepers, and only one returned to fall on his knees and give Him heartfelt thanks. And that man was a Samaritan. (Lk 17:11-19) Jesus never forgot that. Neither did He forget the good experience He had with the Samaritan woman at the well of Jacob. (Jn 4:1-42) The grateful leper and the good woman at the well of Jacob melted away whatever Jewish prejudice Jesus had about Samaritans.
Why did Jesus craft a parable to rehabilitate “Samaritan?” Perhaps it was because He remembered the time when on His way to Jerusalem He cured ten lepers, and only one returned to fall on his knees and give Him heartfelt thanks. And that man was a Samaritan. (Lk 17:11-19) Jesus never forgot that. Neither did He forget the good experience He had with the Samaritan woman at the well of Jacob. (Jn 4:1-42) The grateful leper and the good woman at the well of Jacob melted away whatever Jewish prejudice Jesus had about Samaritans.
A parable about life’s various roles
Another facet of the parable concerns the various roles into which life casts us. I always remember (because I can never forget) traveling to Chicago one New Year’s Day many years ago, while the season’s fiercest snowstorm was raging. Suddenly I came upon a young couple stranded on an exit ramp, pushing their car. I exited the highway to help them. After accomplishing that Good Samaritan deed, I returned to the highway and sped on again (twenty miles an hour) in the blizzard, towards Jericho. Not ten minutes later my car left the highway and landed in a deep ditch. The highway that day was crowded with Jewish priests and Levites also headed for New Year’s celebrations. But none of them stopped! The only one to stop was an Illinois State patrolman, and he was a bandit! He implicitly wanted a fifty dollar bribe, or he was going to throw me in jail for not having a current sticker on my license plate (it was in the glove compartment). He backed off, however, and disappeared into the raging storm.
On the road to Jericho life casts us in various roles. Sometimes we are victims waylaid by a snowstorm or some other adversity of life. Sometimes we are even bandits who victimize others. Sometimes we are Jewish priests and Levites passing right by someone waylaid by one of life’s snowstorms. And sometimes we are Good Samaritans who stop to pour the oil of compassion upon one in need.
On the road to Jericho life casts us in various roles. Sometimes we are victims waylaid by a snowstorm or some other adversity of life. Sometimes we are even bandits who victimize others. Sometimes we are Jewish priests and Levites passing right by someone waylaid by one of life’s snowstorms. And sometimes we are Good Samaritans who stop to pour the oil of compassion upon one in need.
Conclusion
A song singing in his heart
The Jewish priest, the Levite and the Samaritan returned home to Jerusalem that night. In Jericho the priest had delivered the main address at the dedication of a new synagogue there. The speech had gone very well, and everyone praised it. But at the end of the day, the priest had a blah feeling in his heart. It was the uneasy feeling of one who had not stopped for someone half-dead, but had hurried off to seek praise.
The Levite, too, had done well in Jericho that day; he got all his important errands accomplished. But he, too, at the end of the day had a blah feeling in his heart. It was the uneasy feeling of one who had not stopped for someone half-dead, but had hurried off to more “important” errands.
Because he had stopped to pour the oil of compassion on someone half-dead and had taken the time and effort to get him to the nearest inn, the Samaritan arrived in Jericho late for an important business meeting which didn’t go well at all. When, however, he got home late that night, though exhausted by the encounter with the man waylaid by bandits and disappointed with the meeting which hadn’t gone well, there was a song singing deep in his heart!
[1] Lv 19:18; Dt 6:5
[2] i.e. a Levite
[3] Samaritans were despised by Jews as half-breeds and heretics, and Samaritans in turn despised Jews.
[4] Reach Out translation: “two twenty dollar bills”
[5] Samaritanus es tu, et daemonum habes! “Thou art a Samaritan, and you have a demon!”
The Levite, too, had done well in Jericho that day; he got all his important errands accomplished. But he, too, at the end of the day had a blah feeling in his heart. It was the uneasy feeling of one who had not stopped for someone half-dead, but had hurried off to more “important” errands.
Because he had stopped to pour the oil of compassion on someone half-dead and had taken the time and effort to get him to the nearest inn, the Samaritan arrived in Jericho late for an important business meeting which didn’t go well at all. When, however, he got home late that night, though exhausted by the encounter with the man waylaid by bandits and disappointed with the meeting which hadn’t gone well, there was a song singing deep in his heart!
[1] Lv 19:18; Dt 6:5
[2] i.e. a Levite
[3] Samaritans were despised by Jews as half-breeds and heretics, and Samaritans in turn despised Jews.
[4] Reach Out translation: “two twenty dollar bills”
[5] Samaritanus es tu, et daemonum habes! “Thou art a Samaritan, and you have a demon!”
