Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

                               “And who is my neighbor?” Lk: 10-29

Is there a more challenging question in America today than:

Who is my neighbor?

Sadly, we are a divided people. We are a nation torn apart.

Perhaps a recent article in the New York Times answers the question best. It’s entitled: “Hungry, Scared and Sick: Inside the Migrant Detention Center in Clint, Texas.”

The subtitle to this same article locates this town well by describing Clint as “An out-of-the-way border station in the desert outside of El Paso that has become the epicenter of outrage over the present administration’s policies on the southwest border.”

The article reports that: “Inside the secretive site that is now on the front lines of the southwest border crisis, the men and women who work there were grappling with the stuff of nightmares. Outbreaks of scabies, shingles and chickenpox were spreading among the hundreds of children who were being held in cramped cells, agents said. The stench of the children’s dirty clothing was so strong it spread to the agents’ own clothing – people in town would scrunch their noses when they left work. The children cried constantly. One girl seemed likely enough to try to kill herself that the agents made her sleep on a cot in front of them, so they could watch her as they were processing new arrivals.”

The article goes on saying “This little-known Border Patrol facility at Clint has suddenly become the public face of the chaos on America’s southern border, after immigration lawyers began reporting on the children they saw – some of them as young as 5 months old – and the filthy, overcrowded conditions in which they were being held.”

“Border Patrol agents told reporters that they had repeatedly warned their superiors about the overcrowded facility, but federal officials have taken no action.”

If nothing else, perhaps like never before, we – a country which prides itself on being a “Christian nation” – needs to carefully, prayerfully ponder the answer to the question posed to Jesus in today’s universally acclaimed story of the Good Samaritan:

“And Who is my neighbor?”  

This is a central question in the church today, and in our entire society as well. It’s a question asked in conversations around our immigration policy – one that many of our grandparents had to face back in the day. It’s a question often raised in our discussion of nationality and race and sexual identity. And certainly, it’s a question frequently asked in the political sphere, especially as we approach the next election, albeit another sixteen months away.  

So, let’s look prudently at what really is at the heart of Jesus’ message in this classic story.

For starters, it’s important to remember that Jesus uses a story to make his point, not to offer a lecture or a treatise complete with footnotes. And, it’s not just any story, but one specifically designed to be delivered to someone who thinks he has life all figured out – a scholar of the Mosaic Law, a legalist.

So Jesus chooses to make a Samaritan the central figure of the story. This would be startling to the legalist because there was a long and deep animosity between the Samaritans and the Jews. How would it be possible that someone from Samaria, someone of his kind could know anything about neighborliness?

Then using fifteen verbs, Jesus gives a detailed rendition of the extraordinary kindness of the Samaritan: he “pours oil and wine over his wounds;” he “bandages them;”  he “lifts him up on his own animal;” he “took him to an inn and cared for him;” he “takes out two silver coins and gives them to the innkeeper with the instruction, ‘Take care of him.’” And, as if all this were not enough, the Samaritan then says to the innkeeper: “’If you spend more than what I have given you, I shall repay you on my way back.’”

Jesus then asks the inevitable question – one which each of us must answer as well:

Who was the “neighbor” to the robber’s victim?

Even the scholar of the Mosaic Law cannot miss the point. The “neighbor” is the “one who treated him with mercy.”

That is the answer that changes the entire worldview of the lawyer. No long lecture is needed. No elaborate definition is required. The story tells it all:

Mercy is not concerned about the color of someone’s skin or their sexual identity or their economic status or their political beliefs or their religious identity.

Mercy is what God shows each one of us. So, mercy is what we are to show to one another. “Be merciful as your heavenly father is merciful.” Lk. 6:36

Today’s Gospel account begins with a question: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”

The simple, direct answer the Gospel gives us is a story, a story about mercy – boundless mercy. It is not only the answer to our life hereafter; it is the only resolution to the dilemma of what will ultimately heal the terrible division we are experiencing as American people.

We are all in this together. We need to be and to have “neighbors” like the Good Samaritan. It’s what our so-called “Christian” country must remember and take to heart if we are ever to heal the appalling divide that is tearing us apart – a divide so profound that we are allowing innocent children to be treated worse than animals.

As one person put it, “This is literally a war we are fighting, a war between love and hate.”  We need to end this war, to put a definitive stop to the brutalization of children. In its place, today’s Gospel urges us instead to mimic the boundless mercy we so dearly hope for from our God.  

Like the Good Samaritan did.

“And who is my neighbor?”

Ted Wolgamot, Psy.D.

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7/7/19

NOTE: I’m puzzled.

I’m puzzled by the seeming attitude of our American bishops.

I’m puzzled because, for years now, they have made the end to abortion THE all-important moral issue of our time – and it certainly is a significant one. I’m puzzled because they have gone so far as to hint that any real Catholic must not vote for any candidate who does not join them in opposing all abortions. I’m puzzled because some of these same bishops have gone so far as to deny Holy Communion to anyone known to not support their position concerning abortion.  

And yet …

Where are these same bishops now when America is faced with the horrors of child abuse at our borders? Why so quiet? Why so focused instead on other matters that seem so infinitely small in comparison to the abuse of children and helpless adults on our borders?

Where’s their moral outrage?

Where’s their passion?

Where’s their rationale for refusing to gather at the border in large numbers demanding accountability?

Where’s the logic in it all?

Are children precious images of God only in the womb?

Do they suddenly become less so once they are birthed?

Some would argue that it’s about the issue of defenselessness. Surely, they can recognize how utterly defenseless these children at the border are.

And, on another note, what happened to Cardinal Bernadin’s powerful description of how our true moral authority should extend from womb to tomb -being equally supportive of the dignity of human life at every stage of its development?

One might logically think that after the abysmal and, in many cases, unethical handling of the abuse of children by some of their priests and fellow bishops, they would be on high alert to demonstrate a deep regard for the dignity of human life, especially when it comes to the most defenseless – children.

Admittedly, Cardinal DiNardo wrote a powerful letter objecting to the horrific treatment of human beings at our border.

But, is that it?

A letter?

Why aren’t our bishops gathering at the border in a visual demonstration of their total opposition to the utter brutality so evident there?

It’s all a puzzlement to me.

How about you?

Ted Wolgamot