By Deacon John Keyser (Guest Contributor)–
The good Samaritan was someone who cared.
Blessed are those who care: they will assure others that love can reach even them.
Blessed are those who are gentle: they will help people to grow as sunlight brings the meadow to full bloom.
Blessed are those who listen: they will lighten many burdens.
Blessed are those who know how to let go of past injuries: they will have the joy of seeing people find their own goodness.
Blessed are those who, when nothing can be done or said will not abandoned those who suffer but remain to provide encouragement to those who bear the unbearable.
Blessed are those who recognize their own need for the Samaritan: they will love without boundaries or borders.
And blessed are those who give without the possibility of return: they will be the manifestation of God to the world.
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What is it like to be abandoned by the side of the road?
In the fall of 1970 northern Wyoming received its first dusting of snow on its high peaks while autumn leaves transformed the foothills and river valleys into an artist’s canvas of the reds and golds. With all this spectacular beauty, why bother paying attention to an insignificant gas gauge?
The engine quit, and I pulled off the road into the sage brush. I had not seen another vehicle in over an hour. The next town was 80 miles away, and it was going to be a long winter.
Seemingly out of nowhere a rusted and battered International Travelall pulled in behind me. My Toyota was powerless, and I felt the same way. “What’s the problem?” the giant cowboy asked without exiting the warmth of his vehicle. “I’m out of gas,” I whimpered.
He turned and grabbed a 5-gallon Jerrycan from the back of the Travelall, opened the door, and handed it to me with a funnel. With difficulty I emptied the Jerrycan and returned it to him. “How much do I owe you?” I asked. “Forget it,” he said with a smile. “See if it starts.” It did, and he pulled away with a friendly wave. I received the impression that he was accustomed to finding anxious people on remote roads.
My new friend, whom I would never meet again, taught me that goodness is as much a mystery as evil. While evil invades our contentment with desperation and frustration, goodness flows from us and nourishes others with hope and peace. Give this a moment of contemplation, and someone will come to mind.
As we begin reading the story of the Good Samaritan, we know practically nothing about the priest, the Levite, and the Samaritan. By the end of the parable, we still don’t know much about them. Yet, we have been given all that matters. We know them well and will see them again.
The priest and the Levite were absorbed in advancing their own reputations and status. The Samaritan, on the other hand, knew he was an outsider in a hostile land. Why not follow his instincts and help the injured man? He had nothing to lose besides inconvenience, trivial risk and some expense.
By avoiding of the injured man, the priest and Levite personified the sin of omission. Sins of omission may be among our worst sins because we adopt the conviction that we were just minding our own business and didn’t harm anyone. Besides, the problem was left to Professionals whose business it is to get their hands dirty.
The Samaritan care givers among us are the salt of the earth. They are not afraid to get their hands dirty out of a sense of obligation to their fellow human beings and to their own integrity.
For 20 years I taught whitewater kayaking for the University of Utah. In river rescue situations when seconds count, I have learned that the river doesn’t care about your personal misfortunes, while the standard inclination of spectators is to call for a helicopter, the most sophisticated and expensive technology imaginable. In my experience, by the time the machine arrives, the crisis has deteriorated from a rescue to a recovery.
What really works? When the scene is safe; just do something, and do it as fast as possible without becoming another victim.
Each one of us has the capacity to do something. Small opportunities come our way every day. We all have the ability to say a kind word, to offer compassion, to give encouragement, or merely nudge a boat off a rock. These are the little drops of oil and wine which alleviate pain and aid in healing.
The road from Jerusalem to Jericho represents the road of life. At the end of the story of the Good Samaritan, the lawyer who asked, “What must do to inherit eternal life,” gets his answer. Jesus tells him, “Go and do as the Samaritan has done.”
You and I cannot hide or shrink from who we are. We are the salt of the earth and the light of the world. We are blessed with the spontaneous inclination to help others. That is why the world calls us Catholics.
(John Keyser serves as a deacon at St. Thomas More Catholic Church in Cottonwood Heights, Utah. He is a retired Utah Highway Patrol trooper. He originally delivered this homily on July 14, 2019 at St. Thomas More. Reprinted with permission.)
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