The Good Samaritan Revisited
Many of you may be familiar with the television program M*A*S*H. It is the humorous series about an American mobile medical unit in the Korean War. During one of the episodes, Col. Frank Burns, a tiresome, whining, moralistic bore, decides he is going to get the unit to stop drinking. He does this first by seizing everyone’s booze.
He then asks Father Mulcahy, a meek Catholic chaplain, if he could give the unit a fire and brimstone sermon against the evils of drink. Fr. Mulcahy responds with great doubt. “Hmmm…I don’t know, he says, I have never given a sermon like that. I’m better with the classics; turn the other cheek, the Prodigal Son, the Good Samaritan. You can’t go wrong when you have good material.”
Well, today we have one of those classics, the parable of the Good Samaritan from the Gospel according to Luke. As I look out into the congregation and see so many faithful Catholics, I wonder what more I can say to people who may have heard this Gospel proclaimed hundreds of times in their lifetime. But I am here, and you are expecting something from me, so here goes.
The parable of the Good Samaritan, at the first level of meaning, is clearly about three things: 1) to be willing to help others even if we do not know them or feel they may have brought trouble onto themselves; 2) to recognize that all people are our brothers and sisters, not just those with whom we are comfortable or with whom we are friendly; and 3) when we help others, the help should be practical.
But there is at least one missing element of meaning on which we seldom focus. That has to do with the victim on the road. This is understandable in one sense. We do not know from the parable, what the victim did once he recovered. Did he seek out the Good Samaritan and thank him for his help? Did he change the way he lived, perhaps becoming more charitable and willing to live as the Good Samaritan did, loving God and others?
And what about us? Do we just pocket the help from the Good Samaritans God sends us, or do we, as the first reading from the Book of Deuteronomy calls us to do, return such help with all our heart and soul? Do we fail to change our lives when they are saved in many different ways by Good Samaritans, or do we come to emulate the sacrifices of such people, who are themselves emulating the sacrifice of Jesus Christ for all of us, as St. Paul reminds us in our second reading.
For me at least, what the victim does is a somewhat different challenge of the Good Samaritan parable, for it affects us directly and makes the parable more than just an interesting story. Accordingly, I offer you this true story as an example.
One day a man named Robert Peterson met a six-year-old girl on a beach near where he lived. Peterson often drove to this beach; a distance of three or four miles, whenever he felt the world was closing in on him. The little girl was building a sand castle, or at least trying, when she looked up. Her eyes were as blue as the sea.
“Hello,” she said. Peterson answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child. “I’m building,” she said. “I see that,” Peterson said, not really caring. “What is it?” “Oh, I don’t know, I just like the feel of the sand.” That sounds good, Peterson thought, and he slipped off his shoes.
Just then a bird called a sandpiper glided by. “That’s a joy,” the little girl said. It’s a what?” Peterson asked. “It’s a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy.” The bird went gliding down the beach. Good-bye joy, Peterson muttered to himself. Hello pain. He continued to walk down the beach. Peterson was depressed; his life seemed out of balance. But the little girl persisted. “What’s your name? the little girl said. “Robert, Robert Peterson.” “Mine’s Wendy. “I’m six. “Hi Wendy,” Peterson said. “Your funny,” Wendy giggled.
In spite of Peterson’s gloom, he laughed too and walked on. “Come again, Mr. P,” she called. We’ll have another happy day.” But the next few days were not so happy for Peterson. He dealt with unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings, and an ailing mother. The next day, Peterson saw the sun shining and decided he needed a sandpiper to be out. Once on the beach, Peterson received a cool breeze and tried to recapture the serenity of a few days before.
“Hello Mr. P,” Wendy said. “Do you want to play”? “What did you have in mind?” Peterson asked. “I don’t know, she said. “You say.” “How about charades?” Peterson asked sarcastically. Wendy burst forth with her delightful laugh. “I don’t know what that is.” Peterson said, “Then let’s just walk. Looking at her, he noticed the delicate fairness of her face. “Where do you live?’ Peterson asked.
“Over there,” Wendy said. She pointed toward a row of summer cottages. It was early winter, and Peterson thought, what a strange answer.
“Where do you go to school?” Wendy replied, “I don’t go to school. Mommy says were on vacation.” Wendy continued to chatter as they strolled along the beach. When Peterson left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day. Peterson agreed. He felt better.
But three weeks later, Peterson rushed back to the beach. He was in such a bad mood, he even did not want to greet Wendy. In fact, he was in such a foul mood that if he found Wendy at the beach, he said to himself, he would ask her mother to keep her off the beach so he could be alone. Sure enough, Wendy was there.
Wendy was pale and out of breath as she encountered Peterson. “Look, if you don’t mind,” he said to Wendy, I would rather be alone today.” “Why?” she asked. Peterson snapped at Wendy. “Because my mother died!” Peterson wondered and was a little bit ashamed he had said this to a child.
“Oh,” Wendy said quietly. “Then this is a bad day.” “Yes,” Peterson said, “and so was yesterday and the day before and oh, just go away!
“Did it hurt?” she inquired. “Did what hurt?’ Peterson was exasperated with the little girl.
“When she died?” “Of course it hurt,! Peterson snapped at Wendy. He walked off quickly so that Wendy could not catch up with him.
A month later, Peterson was feeling guilty about how he had treated Wendy. He decided to go to the beach to seek her out and apologize. Wendy was not there. After a walk, Peterson decided to approach the cottage where Wendy said she lived. He knocked on the door. A drawn looking young woman with blonde hair answered the door.
“Hello,” he said, “I am Robert Peterson. “I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was.”
“Oh, yes, Mr. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke so much about you. I am afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please accept my apology.”
“Not at all, she’s a delightful child,” Peterson said.
“Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson,” her mother said. “She had leukemia. Maybe she didn’t tell you.”
Peterson was struck to his soul. He groped for a chair to absorb the emotional blow and catch his breath.
Wendy’s mother continued. “She loved this beach, so when she asked to come, we couldn’t say no. She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days. But the last few weeks she declined rapidly. ” Her voice faltered. “She left something for you, if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I look?”
Peterson nodded, still in shock over the news. Wendy’s mother handed him a smeared envelope with a MR. P printed in bold childish letters. Inside was a drawing with bright crayons, a yellow beach, a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was a carefully printed caption. A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY.
Tears welled up in Peterson’ s eyes. His was a heart that had almost forgotten how to love. Now it opened wide. He took Wendy’s mother in his arms. “I am so sorry, he said, “I am so sorry, I am so sorry.” He uttered it over and over again as he wept with Wendy’s mother. Peterson hung the picture card in a frame in his study. Six words, A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY, one for each year of Wendy’s life, spoke of the harmony, courage, and undemanding love the child Wendy had shown to a strange grown man on the beach.
Peterson’s life was changed forever Wendy was the ultimate Good Samaritan. It serves as the ultimate reminder to all of us that we need to take time to enjoy living and life and each other. For the price of hating other human beings is loving oneself less.
Brothers and sisters, in our lives the hustle and bustle, the challenges, even the traumas can make us feel like victim on the road to Jericho. But God puts Good Samaritans in our life to remind us that there is so much in this world that is good, and that by loving God and others we come to love ourselves as more. Sometimes, they only come once in your life, and you never see them again.
Feeling like a victim is easy and rather ordinary. But when we receive kindnesses from unusual or unexpected places, how do we respond? Do we reciprocate that spirit? Do we become Good Samaritans? Do we learn all over again to love God and others? Let us pray that all of the victims of life’s challenges learn not just to accept the help of Good Samaritans in our lives, but to become one as well. With God’s grace, may we not be ordinary victims, suspicious of those we call strangers,. but extraordinary Christians who call strangers friends.