The Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time (C)
Dear brothers and sisters,
What is the point of the law given to Moses? This is, in some sense, the question behind what the “scholar of the law who stood up to test him” asked of Jesus (Luke 10:25). Moses gave the law to the people so they might “return to the Lord, your God, with all your heart and all your soul” (Deuteronomy 30:10). The purpose of the law, then, is to keep us in right relationship with God by keeping us in right relationship with our neighbor. The two-fold command of the love of God and the love of neighbor are intimately connect and cannot separated; the parable of the Good Samaritan makes clear that I cannot love God if I do not love my neighbor in whose image he is made.
Here, of course, we have to ask that troubling question: “And who is my neighbor” (Luke 10:19)? The scholar of the law asked it “to justify himself” (Luke 10:29). He did not yet understand the necessity of loving my neighbor as a means of loving God. Do we not also ask this question – at least implicitly – whenever we look for a reason not to lend a hand?
Gustav Dore, The Arrival of the Good Samaritan at the Inn
If we look closely through the Gospels, we
will see Jesus rarely directly answers a question posed to him. He usually
answers with another question, but sometimes – such as today – he answers with
a story. Jesus’ response to the question of who my neighbor is does not exactly
answer the question, but his answer is certainly to be inferred.
Until that time, the concept of “neighbor” was understood as referring essentially to one's countrymen and to foreigners who had settled in the land of Israel; in other words, to the closely-knit community of a single country or people. This limit is now abolished. Anyone who needs me, and whom I can help, is my neighbor. The concept of “neighbor” is now universalized, yet it remains concrete. Despite being extended to all mankind, it is not reduced to a generic, abstract and undemanding expression of love, but calls for my own practical commitment here and now. …we should especially mention the great parable of the Last Judgement (cf. Mt 25:31-46), in which love becomes the criterion for the definitive decision about a human life's worth or lack thereof. Jesus identifies himself with those in need, with the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick and those in prison. “As you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me” (Mt 25:40). Love of God and love of neighbor have become one: in the least of the brethren we find Jesus himself, and in Jesus we find God.[1]
Now it remains for you and me to love God in my neighbor; it remains for us to live pono by living in right relationship with both God and neighbor.
This parable is not one we often like to consider too closely, because it reveals to us some of the ways in which we are not very neighborly.
If Christ shows us the face of a compassionate God, then to believe in him and to be his disciples means allowing ourselves to be changed and to take on his same feelings. It means learning to have a heart that is moved, eyes that see and do not look away, hands that help others and soothe their wounds, shoulders that bear the burden of those in need.[2]
This is a parable we must allow to challenge our hearts, and to make them at least a little uncomfortable; most of us are not loving our neighbor as fully as Father Damien, Mother Marianne, and Joseph Dutton did.
At the conclusion of today’s Mass, after having consumed the Body and Blood of the Lord Jesus Christ, we will pray that “its saving effects upon us may grow.”[3] What these effects are is made known in the prayer we will pray in a few moments, when we ask that the gifts of bread and wine – which will be changed into the Body and Blood of Christ - “may bring ever greater holiness.”[4]
This growth in holiness is largely a passive experience; it is something Jesus does for us and in us, rather than something we accomplish by the force of our own will. Consider a surfer bobbing on his board as he waits to catch the next wave. What he does is largely passive. He waits for the wave to come and carry him along. It is largely passive, yes, but it is also active; the surfer must do more than be picked up. After paddling out from shore, the surfer sits. He waits. He stands. He rides. But he does all of this after having waited to be carried by the wave. It is passive, yes, but also active. Over the course of time he becomes a better surfer, perhaps without even noticing as his skill improves. So it is with holiness; it is largely passive, but it is also active.
With time and practice, the surfer learns to read the waters and to respond to them accordingly. This is what must happen with our hearts when we see our neighbors.
Looking without walking by, halting the frantic pace of our lives, allowing the lives of others, whoever they may be, with their needs and troubles, to touch our heart. That is what makes us neighbors to one another, what generates true fraternity and breaks down walls and barriers. In the end, love prevails, and proves more powerful than evil and death.
You and I must become embodiments of that Good Samaritan so Jesus’ love may triumph over hatred and indifference.
Over the course of time, the reception of Holy Communion has the power to make us ever more like Jesus. It has the power to open our eyes and our hearts, and to extend the reach of our hands. This is something the Eucharist does to us, but we must still cooperate with the grace given us. Jesus will never force us to become holy. Rather, he invites us along the adventure of holiness and asks us to wait for the wave and catch it when it comes. Amen.
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