On Stopping and Not Passing By



“God has chosen the poor of this world.” (Jas. 2:5)

On Stopping and Not Passing By

September 9, 2012, 23^rd Sunday in Ordinary Time

Isaiah 35:4-7   James 2:1-6   Mark 7:31-37

Second reading from James

Dear brothers and sisters, how can you claim to belong to the Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory, if you show favoritism toward the rich and look down on the poor?  Suppose a rich man dressed in fine clothes and wearing expensive rings on his fingers comes to your meeting, and a poor man shabbily dressed also comes. Suppose also that you make a lot of fuss over the rich man and say to him, “Here’s a good seat for you,” but you say to the poor guy, ”You can stand over there or sit over here on the floor by my feet.” Dear brothers and sisters, by such behavior you have turned yourself into judges, and into corrupt judges at that. I tell you that God has chosen the poor of this world to be rich in faith and to possess the Kingdom which He has promised to those who love Him. But you dishonor the poor! Who are the ones who oppress you and drag you before the judges? The Rich!

The word of the Lord

Thanks be to God

Alleluia, alleluia.

A reading from the holy Gospel according to Mark
Glory to you, Lord.

Again Jesus left the district of Tyre and went by way of Sidon to the Sea of Galilee, into the district of the Decapolis. Some people brought him a man who was deaf and could hardly speak. They begged Jesus to lay his hand on him. So He took the man off to the side, away from the crowd, put his finger into the man’s ears and spat upon his eyes. Then looking up to heaven He groaned and exclaimed “Ephphatha!”— that is -- “Be thou opened!”  And immediately the man’s ears were opened and his tongue was loosened, and he could speak clearly. Jesus ordered the people not to tell anyone. But the more He ordered them not to, the more they proclaimed it. They were completely amazed and said, “Everything He does is wonderful. He even makes the deaf hear and the mute speak.”

The Gospel of the Lord.

Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
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Introduction

September in the rain

Here we are in the second week of September, and an old song comes to mind:

The leaves are brown, came tumbling down,

 Remember that September in the rain.
The sun went out just like a dying ember,
that September in the rain.

 

An honest-to-God frost has not yet hit northern climes, but it soon will. A few geraniums and tomato plants are still hanging in there. Already we’re seeing spotty swaths of gold and red on a herd of maple trees grazing on the countryside. At night we breathe in cool wafts of autumn air streaming through opened windows, as we sleep under an added layer of blanket. Soon we’ll be gathering the fruits of summer into bins of winter. The crispness of these days invites us to take an energetic walk into the fall, and it puts us in the mood for a good Packer football game. Then the first dusting of snow will evoke the emotions that go with the thought of the great feasts of Thanksgiving and Christmas that lie ahead.

St. James – apostle of the poor

The first members of the early Church were nobodies.  Paul writes, “Brothers and sisters, remember what you were when God first called you: few of you were well-educated or influential or nobly born according to worldly standards.” (I Cor. 1:26) In the course of time, however, people of greater economic means and influence joined the early Church, and that gave rise to a problem. In the second reading, St. James, apostle of the poor, voices that problem. He paints a scenario of a rich man well-dressed, well-fed, and well-bedecked with jewelry. He comes into the Christian assembly, and at the same time a poor man shabbily dressed comes in. The assembly makes a big fuss over the rich man, and it pushes the poor man off to the side. St. James asks, “Dear brothers and sisters, how  can you claim to belong to the Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory, if you favor the rich and look down on the poor?” (Jas. 2:1)

A beggar neglected by Francis

That scenario is like a page ripped out of the life of St. Francis of Assisi. No true biographer of the saint would ever omit the story about Francis and the beggar. One day when Francis was working in his father’s shop (which dealt in costly velvets and fine embroideries) a prominent and rich merchant of the town entered, and at the very same time there entered a poor beggar tactlessly asking for alms. Francis did what we’re all tempted to do when confronted at the same time by someone well-dressed and by a shabby beggar: Francis took care of the `nice guy’ first.

 When the prominent merchant finished his business, he left. But Francis suddenly realized that the beggar, whom he had pushed off to the side, had quietly slipped away as unworthy of attention. G. K. Chesterton writes that Francis, suddenly realizing what has just transpired, bolted from his father’s shop, left all the bales of precious velvets and fine embroideries unattended, and went in search of the slighted beggar,  racing across the marketplace “like an arrow straight from the bow.”[1] After combing the narrow and winding streets of Assisi, Francis finally came upon the beggar, and then heaped upon the astonished man a hefty sum of his father’s money.

A beggar in a parking lot

Daily we are confronted with the St. James’ scenario and with Francis’ quandary in his father’s shop. Daily we’re tempted to fuss over someone who looks well-off, and dismiss someone who looks a bit shabby. Daily we are confronted and challenged to go against our culture and race like Francis toward a shabby person "like an arrow straight from the bow."

Recently I was so confronted and challenged. One very hot day this past August here in south Texas, I drove into town for my daily walk in the heavenly air-conditioned Walmart Store. As I was looking for a parking spot, I came upon a strange vehicle (like a four wheel `bicycle’) with a kind of makeshift canvass roof over head. It was contrastingly parked in the midst of some very fine cars. That strange four wheel contraption was loaded down with all kinds of stuff: dishes, utensils, clothing, blankets, etc. Close by the weird vehicle and resting on the ground in the cool shade of a tree was a woman. She was undoubtedly the driver of the strange four wheel `bicycle.’ Lying close beside her was a little dog. All the stuff loaded on that very weird contraption was undoubtedly the sum total of her worldly possessions. And the little dog beside her was the sum total of her friends.

 I stopped the car and motioned to her. She was apprehensive, for such homeless and unkempt people are not well received in our neat society, and sometimes they’re even `driven out of town.’ Putting her apprehension aside, she got up and approached me in my car, perhaps expecting some kind of a negative encounter. To her surprise I handed her a twenty dollar bill. (What in the world can you do with a measly twenty bucks, when you’re in need of a shower, in need of food for you and your dog, in need of a clean bed to sleep in, and especially in need of psychological help to extricate yourself from such a pitiful situation and from such a weird contraption?)

The woman was surprised by my `free-will offering.’ I had freely offered her something, when in fact she had asked for nothing, and had even expected the worst. Relieved that I wasn’t going to tell her to “Get going!” she smiled a bit, held out a grimy hand to take the twenty dollar bill, and said “Thanks.”

 I thank God for that encounter with the woman and her dog resting in the shade of a tree on a very hot Texas day in a Walmart parking lot. In some strange way it was indeed a very religious experience. I thank God that I had not ignored that beggar woman, as Francis had at first ignored the beggar man. I thank God for being able to see what many others in that parking lot that day did not see, either because they were too busy to see it, or for various reasons were choosing not to see it, or were simply obeying that convenient golden rule of our culture to mind one’s own business, to not see and to walk right by.

It can work both ways.

To a great extent we see what we see because of how we are born. I saw what I saw in that Walmart parking lot because I was born of poor immigrant Italian stock, and that has always made it disturbingly easy for me to notice poor folk and have a feel for them. It’s that background of mine that always makes me stop either for a wounded man or a wounded animal on the road between Jerusalem and Jericho. I always stop, unless for some reason it’s too dangerous for me to stop, or there’s absolutely no time for me to stop. But then I keep going on my way, feeling bad, however, that I could not stop. Being born poor, however, can work both ways. Sometimes those born poor manage to dig themselves out of their poverty and choose never to look back. That’s the case with some famous sport stars who have journeyed out of poverty, have made it to the top, live now in obscene mansions, and never, never look back.

A magnificent parable about stopping

That weary woman and her only friend, a little dog, resting in the cool shade of a tree on a very hot Texas day in the Walmart parking lot was a divider of people. That day her very presence in the parking lot divided people passing by into those who were too busy to see her and did not stop. Or into those who for various reasons were choosing not to see her and did not stop. Or into those who were simply obeying the convenient golden rule of our culture to mind one’s own business, to keep going and not to stop.

Jesus, however, told a magnificent parable about stopping. A Jew on his way from Jerusalem to Jericho fell into the hands of bandits who stripped him and left him half-dead beside the road. A priest going down that road saw the poor man but did not stop. Instead he crossed to the other side and passed him by. Along came a Levite (a Jewish Temple-assistant) who also saw the victim, but he too did not stop. Instead he crossed to the other side and passed him by. But then along came a Samaritan (despised by Jews as half-breeds and heretics) who saw the poor man, and filled with compassion  stopped. After dressing the man’s wounds, he lifted him onto his donkey and hurried him off to the nearest inn where he provided for his care and cure. The next day the Samaritan handed the innkeeper two silver coins (two twenty dollar bills) with the instruction to take care of the man, and if expenses run higher than two silver coins, on his way back home he would stop again and make up the difference. (Lk. 10:25-37)

Conclusion

A twofold blessing

The Samaritan’s stopping was a twofold blessing. It was a blessing for the poor man waylaid by robbers on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho. His stopping, however, was an even greater blessing for the Samaritan himself: it turned him into the Good Samaritan whose praises have been sung down through the ages. My stopping and my free will offering of twenty dollars in the Walmart parking lot was indeed a blessing to the poor woman and to her sole canine friend (though my offering only momentarily solved a problem). My free will offering, however, was an even greater blessing for me; it turned me into the human being I was created to be. And when that happens, you’re filled with a quiet joy which nobody can take from you.

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[1] Saint Francis of Assisi (1923) by G.K. Chesterton