There are days when the world seems so cracked and battered that I do not know what the point of getting out of bed is. There are days when injustice and pain seem so total and complete that I feel guilty for the ease of my life. There are days when the success of evil people pulls me down like a weighted net. And I wonder if there could possibly be a "how" or a "why" meaningful enough to heal the world's wounds. I wonder if there is a "when" imminent enough that it would save anyone.
How is it that grieving human suffering has become political? How is that nurturing human life has become political? I hear folks talking. They want people to "deserve" dignity and nurture and success. But if they don't, then I don't. And I cannot make more sense of it than that. I want people to share my grief so I share theirs. I want people to work towards a world where we all can succeed, so I work for and celebrate everyone's success. But mostly, and I cannot stress this enough, I believe people. I do not question their tears, their worth or their stories. The few times that I have needed people to believe me and they failed to, have stayed with me as deeply impactful moments that have illustrated how much we all need each other.
It's a popular thought in today's society to "move somewhere out in the woods and become self sufficient". The mindset behind that bothers me. And I wonder if it isn't more meaningful for us to take care of our neighbors, to allow ourselves to be taken care of by our neighbors. And for our neighbors to include everyone. People will let you down. You will also let people down. AND, you will let yourself down. There is no protection, no armor, no strength, no independence, and no self-sufficiency so total that you won't get hurt. Every time we remove ourselves from society to "live off the grid" we weaken the community that we could be a part of, and we remove ourselves both from being able to help others heal and for others to help us. So many healers, peacemakers, and bridge-builders are sitting on the bench hoarding their gifts and talents and impoverishing the world out of self-preservation or a distaste for the political. It makes me want to weep especially on the days that injustice feels particularly heavy.
Thinking about "going off grid" or more accurately people's desire to withdraw from human community, I always come back to the story of the good Samaritan. It's on the list of stories that keep me up at night. Jesus telling this man (this expert in the law) who has kept all of the commandments to love his neighbor as himself. This man (maybe earnestly or maybe not) asking who exactly is his neighbor. I suspect that he thinks he already loves his neighbors. Maybe he's expecting some guidelines like you might find in the Talmud about how many steps from your door someone has to be in order to be an official neighbor. I don't know. But I wish I did. I wish I could see inside this man's mind.
I also wish I knew why Jesus responds with a story that puts the audience in the position of identifying with the man who gets mugged and left for dead. It feels like the man asking, most churches, and myself would be much more likely to identify with the helper who comes to show kindness. But we aren't allowed that. We are the man left for dead. And our neighbor is not the local rabbi or the priest. Presumably they say a prayer and keep walking. (Like I do in so many situations.) They are also not the helpers, the neighbor.
The Samaritan who will definitely not receive anything for helping. The Samaritan who definitely doesn't know the man from church, work, or anywhere else, decides to help. The Samaritan who could probably be blamed for this man's injuries if the wrong Jew finds them together. He is the neighbor. Jesus could be describing an undocumented Mexican immigrant helping an abused and half dead dude in a MAGA hat with a striking likeness to our President and this story would not be any less shocking or challenging for the man who asked "who is my neighbor". And the Samaritan man doesn't just help him out of the ditch. The Samaritan performs emergency first aid, brings him to a hotel, and pays for all of the medical and food bills. He never asks for anything. Actually putting himself at risk in the process. Maybe the Samaritan knew what it was like to be the kind of human people would prefer not to see on their commute. Maybe the Samaritan thought "if I don't help him, who will?" Maybe the Samaritan had been practicing compassion like the spiritual discipline that it is.
Jesus asks, "who was the beaten man's neighbor?" And the expert in the law doesn't have the guts to say "the Samaritan" (and I think that's intentional evasion) so he says "the one who had compassion on him." Jesus doesn't miss a beat, "go and do likewise." Jesus, telling this successful, presumably righteous, expert in the law to be like the Samaritan has got to be the biggest slap in the face that the man has ever experienced. I don't think there's a more impactful way to say that everyone, yes everyone, on this planet is your neighbor. Help them heal. Pay the bill. Don't complain about it. Don't seek compensation. Love your neighbor like you love yourself. Share the risk of being human. Be like the Samaritan. Be kind to Samaritans. Don't just be kind to your neighbors, be neighborly to everyone.
It's a difficult interpretation. When you begin looking at the whole world with each individual as your neighbor, the sheer number of folks bleeding in a proverbial ditch that you are responsible for can overwhelm you. This challenges American individualism head on. But the Bible wasn't written by Americans or for Americans. It's not meant to validate our country or our culture. It's meant to show all of humanity the Kingdom of Heaven. Where it challenges our cultural ideals, we should pause, have humility and meditate. Return to the words again and again.
I know I do. The violence in my city, the way selfish people want to control the narrative, and the coldness of those who I thought were committed to loving their neighbor has driven me to a deeper meditation of Scripture than anything else ever has. And I'm not done yet.
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