Luke 10, 25-37
“Food baskets at Christmas, toys at Christmas,” writes a bishop, “are good as far as they go, but they don’t go very far.”
The parable of the Good Samaritan has lost its original impact. It was carefully crafted by the Christ to upset its audience and to challenge its listeners. Our Leader was arguably the best needler in the business. He was a Dr Feelgood only to those who found themselves in some kind of trouble.
Why don’t we attempt to robe this famous parable in contemporary dress? A man from New York City decided to spend a few days of R & R in a posh inn in Westchester. He picked up a harmless looking hitchhiker. That gentleman stabbed him. Then the mugger drove off in his car after leaving his benefactor on the side of the road.
I passed by. I was rushing to say the 10 AM Mass in Scarsdale. I saw the man frantically waving me down. I wanted to stop, but I was running late. I said a short prayer for the man, threw him a quick blessing, and gassed my car.
The next person to pass was a nun. She was rushing to Boston to give a talk at a convention for the homeless. Her talk was only half completed. Anyhow she knew a state trooper would find the poor wretch in short order. She moved on after devoutly reciting a Hail Mary and Our Father.
The next one to see the poor fellow now bleeding badly was your honorable self. You were rushing with your family to your weekend home in Rhode Island. You chose not to get involved. You realized that it might take you hours to prove to the cops that you were not the attacker. You resolved to send an angry letter to the governor to get more state troopers on the highways – especially, the ones you drive on. Besides, the air conditioner was not working in your car. And you were anxious to get out of your wet clothes and jump into a dry martini.
Then comes a black truck driver. He was running hours late. His rig was loaded with perishables. As soon as he spotted the wounded man, he pulled his 18 wheeler up on the grass. He got out his first aid kit, tied some tourniquets to stop the blood, and drove the fellow to the nearest hospital.
The officious nurse demanded the unconscious man’s Major Medical and Social Security cards. The sweating driver, carrying the driver, said, “His ID was stolen. If he can’t pay, I will pay on the return trip. Just show me where I sign. I’ve got to get moving.”
In its new clothing as the Parable of the Good African-American, one better appreciates the power and force of the tale the first time around. All of us – priests, nuns, and you – are supposed to feel put upon. And, if we work according to the plan of Jesus, we will change our priorities. We will become participants with people in trouble and cease being merely onlookers. Christ is saying to us, “Stop talking. Just do it.” Christianity is not a spectator sport.
But this is only the small picture. We must also be concerned with that famous big picture that everyone talks about. In the United States, millions are being deprived as I speak. One out of four of our children live in poverty. Can you imagine the rage we would feel if 25% of us were unemployed? Tonight 100,000 homeless kids will have to find a place to sleep. Thirty million of our fellow citizens are illiterate. About thirty five million have no health insurance. Another sixty million are underinsured.
Michael Parenti in Democracy for the Few advises us of the other half of the picture. “Approximately 1.6 percent of the (US) population own 80 percent of all capital stock, 100 percent of all state and municipal bonds, and 88.% percent of all corporate bonds.”
Dr Martin Luther King, Jr advises wisely that our society does need restructuring. And each of us should be pushing the burden up the hill and make sure it gets down the other side. Again our bishop speaks, “Direct assistance is good. Tackling the causes is better.”
Let’s do get hopping on this crusade as soon as possible. But, as the Lord would remind each of us with no trace of a smile, let’s begin first by changing the person whom we admire with such delight in our bathroom mirror each morning.