Saturday, July 9, 2022

The Prodigal: Homily for the 15th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lk 10:25-37 (The Good Samaritan)

 

The parable of the Good Samaritan evokes an image which, along with the Prodigal Son, is part of common English usage. Images that may even be used 

by those who profess no faith or who are militant atheists. It places significant burdens on our shoulders to notice, to care, and to act.   They are the burdens of being an instrument of God’s justice.  Two factors separate the Samaritan’s actions from a mere good deed: risk and commitment.  The Samaritan took a risk when he stepped outside the script and intervened to help another. He bound himself to the anonymous victim through an act of love.  

 

Hate is not the opposite of love.  The opposite of love is apathy or indifference.  

Apathy was the sin of the passers-by who either didn't care enough to notice or noticed but didn't care enough to get involved. Things haven't changed.  During psychiatry residency I got to witness a modern reenactment of this parable. 

 

The psychiatry department was on the second floor of an awful building across the street from the busy Tioga St. entrance to Temple University Hospital.  I was looking out the window contemplating the scene below at lunch time. The usual food trucks lined the street.  Patients, families, white-coated physicians, and scrub suited staff passed by in all directions.  Then the drama unfolded. 

 

A young man and his mother, both of whom appeared to be developmentally disabled, were seated on a bench eating the hot dogs they had purchased from one of the trucks.  The woman suddenly started to cough and choke.  Her son was gesturing and calling frantically for help.  Two ear, nose, and throat physicians—I use the term physicians sarcastically in this case—passed within feet of the boy but continued walking as if they heard and saw nothing.  Other docs and nurses ambled by as well, ignoring the mini-drama.  

 

Then one of the docs, whom I knew, and a student going over to the hospital, raced up to the boy and his mother.  The doc did the Heimlich maneuver.  The student ran into the hospital and emerged with a wheelchair.  They put the coughing woman into the chair and raced into the ER with her son running behind.  

 

I spoke with the doc and the still shaken student later. They were both rattled by the inaction of the ENT residents and by the response of the ER docs who told the student they could not go out of the ER to help a patient.            

 

Unlike the others, the doc and student got involved.  They noticed and cared about what was happening.  They acted without weighing risks of a malpractice suit.  They did not worry about hospital policy or looking like idiots doing the Heimlich in the middle of the Tioga Street Plaza. They cared for someone in need.

 

There is something more in the parable. In addition to the risk of helping a stranger in acute distress the Samaritan made a commitment that extended into the future.  This was not an example of the ridiculous bumper sticker: “Commit random acts of kindness and senseless acts of beauty.” There was nothing random or senseless about the Samaritan’s action. “Look after him, if there is any further expense I will repay you on my way back.”

 

Suppose the two pieces of silver didn't cover the expenses. What if the Samaritan didn’t return  because he forgot or took a different route, or was himself the victim of robbers.  The anonymous victim would have been stuck with the bill.  As he had been robbed of everything, he would have been put in debtor’s prison until he was able to pay up.  What does it cost someone when we break a commitment?  What happens when we renege on a promise?  What does it cost us when we don’t honor a commitment?

 

Like Jesus’ other parables the Good Samaritan is frustrating because there is no set conclusion. It is like seeing only the first act of a two-act play or finding that the last half of a mystery novel has been ripped out.  That incompleteness is an advantage, however, that allows us to insert ourselves into the parable and explore its meaning.  We can meditate on possible outcomes and scenarios without a set conclusion. We are not trapped by the equivalent of “and they lived happily ever after.”  We don’t know if the Samaritan kept his word and returned.

or if the innkeeper fulfilled his part of the deal. If we are being honest with ourselves, however, we do know that too often we do not keep our word or fulfill our part of a deal.

 

The good news is that we can be certain that Jesus keeps His word to us.   We know that Jesus’ commitment to us has never wavered. It will never waver.  He will never fail to honor the promises he made to us. We only have to ask. We only have to go to Him in prayer and we will be cared for.  

 

No silver pieces needed to settle the account.

______________________________________________________

I was in Lyon on 14 July 2014 for the fête nationale française.  We lived two blocks from the bridge to the Old City of Lyon in what had been the Visitandine Monastery in which St. Francis de Sales died.  The weather was perfect.  I was on the street all day with my camera.  At night I went the two blocks to the river, set up a tripod and camera and shot away.  It was my first time shooting fireworks.  Was grateful I had the tripod with me.  The firework shots are self-explanatory, no explanation necessary. 

Beats the little wands and bottle of dishwashing liquid.  The maker was using a large wire loop and two long wooden dowels.  He waved it through the air. 

The Basilica Notre Dame de Fourvière that overlooks the city.  Fireworks were shot off nearby with the basilica forming the backdrop.

My kind of hotel.  Keep the glass and chrome I want something like this.

Lyon is the capitol of French cuisine.  Sidewalkcafes all over the old city

The Basilica at sunset.  

The kebab stand.





+ Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

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