Mary David Walgenbach’s Homily, July 10, 2016

Readings:  Deuteronomy 30:9-14; Colossians 1:1-14; Luke 10:25-37

Today’s gospel is a rendition by John Shea with some modifications.

I open the parable of the Good Samaritan this morning, by telling today’s gospel as Nathaniel. I am a young lawyer; Luke calls me a scribe. I am an expert in the Law of Moses.

As a young and nimble lawyer eager to distinguish myself with the priests of the temple, I, Nathaniel, accepted the request of Caiaphas to join the crowd listening to Jesus. Our purpose was for me to confront Jesus with a question to test his words and reveal his intemperate heart.

I found Jesus in the small valley outside the city. There were about a hundred people around him. The moment he stopped his preaching I stepped forward. Teacher, I began. What must I do to gain eternal life? Jesus was in no hurry to respond. He looked at me for a long time locking his eyes into mine.

What does the law say? In the purest tones I recited: Love the Lord, your God, with your whole mind, and with your whole heart, with your whole soul and your neighbor as yourself. I knew my answer was right because it was derived from Deuteronomy 6:5 and Leviticus 19:18.  I sensed approval rippling across the crowd which pleased me. Signaling me to come closer Jesus said, you have answered well. Do this and live.

But who is my neighbor? My question unmasked me as a heresy hunter. Jesus came closer to me and again looked into my eyes and said, “A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho…” He did not go on until he saw in my eyes that I knew I was that man. I was the one in need of healing. Then Jesus moved away from me to tell everyone what happened to me on that journey.

The first blow was the easiest to take. Being left for dead is not dead. Skin heals. I would mend. I still had clothes and money and prestige in Jerusalem. All I needed was to get back there.

A priest on a donkey came by. I could barely make him out. The blood was crusting over my eyes. But even naked, he recognized me. “Nathaniel, is that you?” I had no strength to speak. I could not even move my hands to signal him. “O my God!” The priest held his head. “You of all people, will understand.  I have just finished service in the Temple. If I touch you and you are already dead or if you die in my arms, I will be ritually impure.” He paced back and forth on the road above, hunched in thought and panic.

“They will force me to stand in shame at the Eastern Gate, and go through the long process of purification. It would be a scandal to myself, my household, and the priesthood.” He rose and did not look at me. “In this case, as you well know, the law entitles me to pass by.” I watched him go.

A Levite came next. As soon as he saw me, he jumped off the road down into the ditch. “Thieves!” the hoarse sound came from deep within his chest. He looked quickly around but not at me. In my heart I yelled, Help! He never heard it. He stayed low in the ditch, and when he was sure the thieves were no longer lurking about, he returned, running, to the road.

I now had nothing; but then the sound of footsteps. Even through the blood I could see he was a Samaritan, a half-breed and unclean. But in his eyes were my tears. He cleaned me like a mother bathes a child, rubbed oil in my wounds, tore his own robe for bandages. He put me on his donkey and walked beside it, steadying me. At the inn he laid me on a cot and placed his blankets over me. I could hear him paying the innkeeper and saying he would be back to take care of me if it was needed.

The next thing I knew Jesus had me by the shoulders again. He too had my tears in his eyes. “Who proved neighbor to the one in need?” And I spoke, halting for the first time. The one who showed mercy. And I heard the words inside me: You go and do the same.

In this parable Jesus deals with the dehumanizing racial prejudice of his day. He saw humanity from a new perspective. He believed that the humanity in one person could touch the humanity in another and empower that other to step out of his or her fears and defining prejudices.

Here are some examples of Good Samaritans from contemporary life that I came across during my preparation:

A Lithuanian Jewish immigrant family who owned a junk wagon nurtured the genius of a teenage prostitute’s son from a New Orleans’ ghetto who would go on to remake American music. When he was 7, Armstrong went to work for the Karnofskys, who gave him the job of blowing the tin horn on their junk wagon when it approached potential customers. The Karnofskys took Armstrong into their home, making sure he had a good dinner at the end of every day. They taught him to sing Russian Jewish lullabies. Those lullabies, the tin horn, and the music around him on the streets of New Orleans turned something in Armstrong. When he saw a cornet in a corner store, the Karnofskys helped him buy it. When he put the cornet to his lips, he found he could blow out the notes of simple songs. Then, as he said, “Here come the blues.” Out of respect for the role the Karnofskys played in his life, Louis Armstrong wore a Star of David until he died.  (Sojourners, July 2016)

Another example:

Across Canada, ordinary citizens, distressed by news reports of drowning children and shunning of desperate migrants, are intervening in one of the world’s most pressing problems. Their country allows them a rare power and responsibility: They can band together in small groups and personally resettle—essentially adopt—a refugee family. In Toronto alone, hockey moms, dog-walking friends, book club members, poker buddies and lawyers have formed circles to take in Syrian families.

On this day of celebration of Benedict and Scholastica I share a few Good Samaritan/hospitality stories from the sisters’ community:

Our sisters community experienced an ever-widening inclusivity when Suman and her daughters ages four and five arrived in Madison from India in the summer of 1978 and lived with us for seven years. Joanne became an instant Grandma and the rest of us big sisters. Some of you remember their birthday parties.

Later Jewish Social Services asked the Sisters of they would provide temporary housing for a Vietnamese boat family, Lich and Mai Nguyen and their two-year old daughter Yaun in November 1979. They stayed until September 1980. I recall vividly their standing on our door step with only the clothes on their backs. Lich could speak some English because he had worked for the U.S. Army in Vietnam. They were still grieving from the death of their son on the South China Sea.

In January  of 1985 the Sisters were asked to give sanctuary to Roglio and Maria Gonzalez and their four children. Refugees from Guatemala, the Gonzalez family had been living in an apartment provided by members of the Sanctuary Movement who became concerned for their safety. They wanted to move the family on Church property.  The family stayed until they could be resituated in Winnipeg, Canada. Two years ago they visited us with two of their grandchildren. Some of you were here for that joyful reunion.

There are more Good Samaritan stories to hear from each of you and together as Oblates or Sunday Assembly members. I am pleased to say that the Helping Hand fund for George and Audrey is over $9,000 dollars. In addition some of you have given many volunteer days in preparing for their move to assisted living.

Let us continue to encourage one another to be hearers and doers of the Word of God.

Mary David Walgenbach, OSB

July 10, 2016