Good Samaritan
Jesus replied, “A man fell victim to robbers as he went down from Jerusalem to Jericho. They stripped and beat him and went off leaving him half-dead. A priest happened to be going down that road, but when he saw him, he passed by on the opposite side. Likewise, a Levite came to the place, and when he saw him, he passed by on the opposite side. But a Samaritan traveler who came upon him was moved with compassion at the sight. He approached the victim, poured oil and wine over his wounds and bandaged them. Then he lifted him up on his own animal, took him to an inn, and cared for him. The next day he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper with the instruction, ‘Take care of him. If you spend more than what I have given you, I shall repay you on my way back.’” (Luke 10:30-35)
Our Catholic lectionary recently brought us to this familiar dusty spot, on a hot and dangerous stretch of road. While the story itself is familiar and its message unequivocal, we see irrefutable evidence all around us that the Christian community still struggles with the concept of Love of Neighbor.
It seems clear, doesn’t it? You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, being, strength and mind; and love your neighbor as yourself.
Yet, one need not look far for what seems to be a perpetual onslaught of cruelty against our neighbor in the United States and beyond. It isn’t just in our rhetoric. We are failing the poor and vulnerable. We are unapologetically increasing the inequality gap, and we watch horrified while our immigration agents tear families apart and undermine basic human dignity.
We, like the scholar of the law in the Gospel, keep asking Jesus “Ya, sure, but who exactly is our neighbor?” – as if by asking we’ll be exempt from loving. “There must be some clear perimeter to my circle of neighbors, no?” – as if we can find some holy loophole and we’ll be excused from the tough work of caring for those we’d prefer to ignore.
While we’d all like to cast ourselves in the title role of ‘Good Samaritan,’ it is probably important for us to consider the distance we each put between ourselves and the suffering. Perhaps we’ve decided, like the priest and Levite, to pass on the opposite side of the street. Maybe the instinct to look in the other direction is borne of fear or a sense of powerlessness or hopelessness, whatever it is, many of us have stepped off the curb and looked the other way.
Jesus is asking us today, in no uncertain terms, to set aside the perceived complications of loving and to be the merciful neighbor we would hope to encounter. Because while the scholar of the law might look outside himself to identify his neighbor, Jesus reminds us all that we are the neighbor. We, too, are in constant need of holy, loving reciprocity from those around us.
Moses reminds us in the first reading that it isn’t an external law we must fulfill; it is near to us – already in our mouths and hearts. It’s deeply personal, and the personal nature of this law is the path to its clarity.
It’s difficult not to love someone for whom you’ve cared. It’s difficult not to love someone who has cared for you. Much like the Gospel of the Good Samaritan, Jesus is telling us that loving will come at great personal cost. The wounded will be transported on our backs; those who bind their wounds will be paid with our coins, and we will have to return to them regularly to be sure of their ongoing care.
Up close we see, with clarity, the depth and beauty of our shared humanity. Close up we’ll see that while we might be a long way from being Good Samaritans, we aren’t too far away from being in need of that kind of love; and there is no distance between those two people – ourselves and the other – for we are all neighbors.
Kelly Meraw is the Director of Liturgy, Music, and Pastoral Care for St. John – St. Paul Collaborative in Wellesley, Massachusetts. Kelly earned her Master’s Degree from McGill University, where during her undergraduate studies, she was received into the Catholic Church through the RCIA program at St. Patrick’s Basilica in Montreal, Canada. Kelly brings her deep love of scripture, liturgy, music, and devotion to Church teaching and tradition to her ministry.
In her parishes she leads bible studies; organizes faith sharing circles and social justice initiatives; leads communion, wake and committal services; offers adult faith enrichment programming; and shepherds bereavement ministries.
Currently she finds the undeniable movements of the Holy Spirit and great hope in the process of living as a deeply listening Church. After this first session of the Synod on Synodality she will continue to engage in the communal discernment process offering fulsome and inclusive ways to serve the Church’s current Synod.
