Do you desire life?
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July 14, 2019“Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” (Lk 10:25)
Today’s gospel reading is a classic, one we’ve all heard told and retold, for many of us since before we could read. Like other classics, such as the Prodigal Son, the Wise and Foolish Virgins or the Parable of the Sower, this is a story any one of us could retell by heart. I have a confession to make: when I took a look at the readings for today and realized that it was the story of the Good Samaritan, my first reaction was, “Ugh, not again.” Familiarity breeds contempt, as they say, and this can apply to the Scriptures, just as to anything else. To make matters worse, when I had some time for lectio, I found myself seriously disinclined to sit with it, ready to do anything except read this passage. Why was I being tempted to pass by this parable, as if on the other side of the road, just as the priest and Levite in the story do to the man in need?
A little self-examination revealed to me that my reluctance came from a feeling of guilt, a sense that here was a word of Jesus that I am not and cannot live up to, and so I experience it as a big stick being waved at me. Have you ever felt that way about the Scriptures? I do, from time to time, and that recognition leads me to look more deeply at the words that have had this effect on me to see if there really is a stick, or if it’s just my imagination at work.
The story opens with a scholar of the law approaching Jesus to ask him a question. The text says that he “stood up to test” Jesus: “Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” (Lk 10:25). Testing evokes an atmosphere of disputation or an attempt to discredit the one addressed. But the question is an important one, and it is posed not theoretically (“How does one attain to life”) but personally (“How do I find life?”).
A contrast with other versions of the story may help here. In Matthew and Mark, where the Great Commandment is also quoted, the setting is subtly different than in Luke. Matthew has a group of Pharisees gang up on Jesus after they watch him silence the Sadducees, and their intention is clearly adversarial: they want to catch him in error about the law so that they can oppose and humiliate him. Jesus answers with the commandment to love the Lord with all one’s being and one’s neighbor as oneself, and, strangely there is no response from the Pharisees. Perhaps they are dumbfounded by an answer they cannot oppose. In Mark, by contrast, the question is asked by a scribe who admires Jesus’ response to other questioners, and so wants to learn from him. Jesus answers and the man responds with an immediate affirmation and elaboration of what Jesus has said: “Well said, teacher. You are right in saying, ‘He is One and there is no other than he.’ And ‘to love him with all your heart, with all your understanding, with all your strength, and to love your neighbor as yourself’ is worth more than all burnt offerings and sacrifices.” (Mk 12:32-33). Jesus, in turn, rewards this man’s enthusiasm with an affirmation: “You are not far from the kingdom of God” (Mk 12:34).
I believe that, in spite of the word “test,” Luke’s version is closer in spirit to Mark than to Matthew. That is, I think the questioner is treated as an authentic seeker. Here, Jesus doesn’t answer the question himself, but in a good pedagogical move, invites the other to answer his own question. The man does so and is told: “You have answered correctly; do this and you will live” (Lk 10:28). Again, notice the personal quality: this is not just an abstract precept but a way for you to find life.
At this point I’d like to bring in today’s first reading from the book of Deuteronomy. First readings on Sundays usually contain some thematic connection with the gospel for the day. Can you tell what it is?
“For this command that I enjoin on you today
is not too mysterious and remote for you.
It is not up in the sky, that you should say,
'Who will go up in the sky to get it for us
and tell us of it, that we may carry it out?'
Nor is it across the sea, that you should say,
'Who will cross the sea to get it for us
and tell us of it, that we may carry it out?'
No, it is something very near to you,
already in your mouths and in your hearts;
you have only to carry it out.” (Dt 30:11-14)
Deuteronomy is a book about a covenant between God and his people. This covenant is often expressed by the word “love” – a word that in its context means much more than a sentiment or feeling. In Deuteronomy, love is legal terminology for a commitment with concrete mutual responsibilities. In summarizing the law by the love commandment, the scholar in today’s gospel shows his understanding of this: that law and love are one at the core. And love is not beyond us, not too much to ask, not something heroic that we look to in extraordinary moments, but, rather, something close, something very near to us that touches our everyday lives.
Today’s parable is designed to expand upon the love commandment in narrative form, so as to ground it in experience. Some passers-by are going about their daily business on the way from Jerusalem to Jericho. Lo and behold, they stumble upon a needy person: a call for assistance to one’s neighbor as the law commands, a call for love in action. The question is often asked: why did these upstanding citizens, these persons of distinction in their religious culture, pass by? Excuses are given: fear of defilement, reluctance to get involved, disdain, plain old laziness. For me, the more important question is: why do I pass by?
As I was reflecting on this, some instances came to me from recent days in which I have passed by. First, in the common room the other day I noticed that the small papers for writing notes were almost out. I used one and left. Someone else cuts the paper and fills up the supply; it’s not my job. In truth, there was no real thought about this, just an absent-minded sense of entitlement. I could so easily have reached down to the shelf below, taken a few sheets of scrap paper from the pile, and cut them up. It would have taken a minute or two, max. But I didn’t; I passed by, leaving it for someone else. Not a big sin, to be sure, but a missed opportunity. Again, in the kitchen, I was washing my dishes and I noticed that the sink strainer was full of food scraps. I finished with my dishes and went away leaving it just as it was. I had noticed a need, but the recognition hadn’t passed beyond mere observation to become a call to action. I didn’t even feel guilty, it just slipped my mind. Taking a minute or two to wipe the sink and empty the strainer would not have cost me much at all, but it would have created a nicer situation for those who came after me. Not a big sin, but a missed opportunity.
Back to the big stick at the beginning of my reflections. Remember I said this story made me feel a bit guilty, as if someone were wielding it as a stick to beat me with. “You’re no Good Samaritan; you’re no good at all!” Well, I just want to make sure no-one thinks I’m trying to do that to you by talking about note paper and sink strainers. “Shame on me – shame on you!” No. Jesus’ words today are not about shame or guilt, and he carries no stick. He is giving a word of life, unveiling opportunities to embrace love in daily life. As Deuteronomy says, love (the one command) is not something high in the sky or across the sea. It is here now, any minute now. It is an opportunity, not a threat.
Let’s end by considering the Good Samaritan himself for a minute. There are three things about him that I notice. One, he is a foreigner: it is not his business, not his job to help a Jew. But he does it anyway, because he feels compassion. Two, he is discreet: he gets on with helping without blowing a trumpet or seeking attention or payback. He is not interested in being a hero. Three, he cannot do enough: “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.’” (Lk 10:34-35). Have you ever experienced this kind of compassion, this kind of love that keeps giving, welling up from your own heart? I bet you have. I have, at times, in spite of my tendency to pass by. I remember being told during my formation: “If you see something that hasn’t been done, that needs doing, you can treat it as a call from God, even if it isn’t your job.” I am still working on shifting my complaining: “Why didn’t she…?” into an offering: “Why not me?”
Wouldn’t it be wonderful – and isn’t it – when we live in a place where people take care of one another and seek out ways to make life more pleasant for everyone else? Familiarity may breed contempt, and we drift toward self-absorption, no longer even registering the needs of others. On the other hand, one deed of kindness can breed another, leading to more and more deeds of kindness, the one piling upon the other as the experience of love gives birth to joy in the heart. Isn’t this what life together is all about? If we want life, happiness, joy in this world, Jesus tells us that there are opportunities on all sides to exercise compassion, to be connected to others through our needs, and to increase the amount of happiness in the world. If we want life, for ourselves and for others, let us take Jesus at his word: “Go and do likewise” (Lk 10:37).
