Homily -- 15^th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C

—Fr. Timothy W. Castor

In the time of Jesus, the Rabbis determined that there were 613 separate laws in the five books of Moses, and they believed that if they could fulfill them all, God would grant them eternal life. Quite a daunting task because, just to know and understand what those laws were would take a lifetime of study. And, if this were true for the highly educated rabbis, what about the common folk who couldn’t even read or write? And so the Hebrew teachers set themselves to figure out which laws were the greatest: which ones summed up the entire Mosaic code so that if you were to fulfill those, you would fulfill them all. It was a question that was posed to Jesus probably on several occasions (because he was seen as a great rabbi himself), and here, when he is challenged by a scholar of the Law, he asks the man his opinion, and approves his answer.

Thus we learn that the Law of God can be summed up in two commands: "You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your being, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself."

Love of God and love of neighbor contain all the Law and the Prophets and if we do this, we will live. Why? Because if we love God perfectly, with our whole being, we will fulfill our whole duty toward God: both avoiding sin and practicing virtue. And if we love our neighbor as ourselves, we fulfill our whole duty toward others by recognizing in everyone we meet a person equal in dignity to ourselves, created in God’s image, redeemed by the Blood of his only Son. We would never want to harm such persons, and we would always seek to help them in their need.

But the scholar is not satisfied with this answer, apparently, and wants to engage Jesus in a rabbinical dispute. So he interrogates him further: "And who is my neighbor?" Who am I obligated to love?

Our Lord’s reply in the parable of the Good Samaritan, however, actually answers a slightly different question. Instead of "Who is my neighbor?", the question Jesus answers could be worded: "Whose neighbor am I?"

You see, we have a tendency to define our neighbors rather narrowly, and they’re usually the people for whom we feel a natural affection: our family and friends, our countrymen, those who share our ethnic background and our beliefs. But, as we already intimated, the very idea of neighbor suggests equality: If you are my neighbor, then I am your neighbor. And vice-versa: If I am your neighbor, then you are my neighbor.

So, instead of categorizing and listing who your neighbors might be, our Lord seems to be saying: Why not discover to whom you are a neighbor? Once you have answered this question, then you will know who your neighbors really are.

The answer that emerges from the parable is a simple one: I am neighbor to everyone—everyone I meet, everyone I encounter, everyone I know or even know about. You see, the Jews and Samaritans distrusted and despised one another. So, according to Jesus, my neighbors include those who are different from me, those I have been taught to distrust or despise, even those who hate me. And since I am neighbor to everyone, everyone is my neighbor … everyone is your neighbor. It is not just a select few we must love: we owe the debt of charity to everyone.

But we learn something more from this parable: that love of God and love of neighbor must go together. In fact, the very measure of our love for God is determined by the degree to which we love our neighbor. The priest and the Levite in today’s Gospel certainly loved God: they were on their way to Jerusalem probably in order to fulfill their duties in the Temple. But their devotion proved to be nothing more than legalistic obligation when they avoided the man who needed their help. Likewise there are those today who claim to love God, who appear pious and devout; they say their prayers and practice their devotions. But they can’t be bothered with helping those around them who are in need. And this lack of charity really amounts to disdain—a form of hatred. Saint John tells us, "If anyone says, ‘I love God,’ but hates his brother, he is a liar; for whoever does not love a brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen." A sober warning for all of us.

The Fathers of the Church saw in the Good Samaritan a type of Christ, and they said the person who fell victim to robbers represents all of us. We are wounded and helpless because of our sins and in a state of enmity with God. Jesus Christ, the eternal Son of God, comes to our aid, offering us healing, forgiveness and love. He did this by laying down his life for us on the Cross. So, how can we claim to be his people and not do as he did—laying down our lives for those in need? To imitate the Good Samaritan, then, is to imitate Christ: to show mercy to our brothers and sisters, our neighbors, our friends and our enemies. As our Lord said to the scholar of the Law: "Go and do likewise."

© 2004, The Rev. Timothy W. Castor

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