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Showing posts with label President Trump. Show all posts
Showing posts with label President Trump. Show all posts

Friday, July 11, 2025

And who is my neighbor --Some thoughts for the 15th Sunday of Ordinary Time & the Parable of the Good Samaritan

 "But wanting to justify himself,
he said to Jesus: And who is my neighbor?"

Luke 10:25-37

The Catholic church follows a liturgical cycle of readings. What this means is that the readings at each mass are pre-determined, scheduled, following a 3-year plan. The cycle completes itself and starts over every 3 years. Years are designated A, B & C---and currently, we are in year C.  What this means in practice is that instead of a priest or liturgist selecting particular passages from scripture because they fit some pastoral concern or address a specific issue, the readings are determined by the cycle and every 3 years on the 15th Sunday of Ordinary Time, we hear the same series of readings including the story of the Good Samaritan. One of the odd blessings about such a system, is that the choice is not ours, the message is not selected by us, but imposed upon us and that imposition, if we allow it, can become a blessing of opportunity.  It calls us out of the hamster-wheel of our habits and hungers and preferences, and invites us to look at life through a different lens, see the world around us from a different point of view.

 

And so, in the midst of all the strange and terrible goings on in our country, a president who seems to think he is a king, a congress that acts like cartoon minions, and agents of the government running around in masks arresting nursing mothers, day-laborers, and college students, we might have wanted to hear a message about justice or about the collapse of society, about God’s wrath on corrupt leaders… But, instead this Sunday at mass we will hear the parable of the Good Samaritan, and each of us will be given the opportunity to consider: what kind of neighbor am I?  

 

The story of the good Samaritan is probably one of the most familiar of all the parables. It is the story of a man who is beaten and robbed and left for dead on a roadside and three people who walk by his naked body.  Two of them, a priest and a lawyer, keep going. They see the man, but walk on without helping.  Only the third, a Samaritan (someone Jesus’s audience wouldn’t have wanted to associate with), stops and helps the man, caring for his wounds and taking him to safety.  Re-reading this parable I have come to wonder if it may be the most radical of all the parables.  Not only does the Samaritan stop and help the wounded man, but he takes him to an inn, watches over him, then pays the inn-keeper extra money to help.

 

And it all starts with a lawyer asking about the law, about the rules, asking about what is required to be a good Jew; as if he is trying to get Jesus to say: these are the minimum requirements to avoid breaking the law, to stay out of trouble with God.  The lawyer has quoted the law to Jesus, the rules: You must love God with all your heart, and love your neighbor as yourself.  And when Jesus affirms it, the lawyer, as if looking for a loophole, asks: But, who is my neighbor?

 

The lawyer’s simple question reverberates with the self-justifying sound of fear. Behind it one senses a fear of obligations and limitations, and the very human worry about having enough, about running out of time, energy, resources. But instead, Jesus answers with a story of generosity and compassion, discomfort and self-sacrifice.  The Samaritan is on a trip, headed somewhere, he doesn’t know the man, has no obligations toward him, and yet he alone, of the three responds with love; he alone sets his own plans and needs, perhaps his own obligations and limitations aside responds with compassion, selflessly allowing the needs of another to become an opportunity to serve.   Historically, Samaritans were seen by the Jews as outcasts or rejects; heretics and half-breeds. And yet it is the Samaritan, not the “good Jews,” the Priest and the Levite, who shows concern for the victim, who treats even a stranger with compassion, with love.

 

Instead of answering in legal terms, Jesus flips the question with a story about radical kindness. Shifting the focus from requirements and culpability to generosity, He asks the lawyer: Which of the three, do you think, acted like a neighbor?  He turns the focus away from othering, from borders and tribal distinctions --who is my neighbor—making it personal –what kind of neighbor am I? 

 

Who is my neighbor, the lawyer asks, and Jesus responds with a parable about a stranger, and radical compassion.

 

Jesus is challenging us to act with love not just toward family and friends, classmates or co-workers, not just the easy and the familiar, but to treat with love, with radical generosity, even when its uncomfortable, when its unplanned and disruptive to our schedule, even when it’s scary.  He calls us to see through the Law into the Love. A Love that connects, that binds us all, friend and foe, family and stranger.

 

And there are few stranger than our current president, and few more frightening, and possibly none who needs love more –unless, of course, we count the widows, the orphans, the homeless, the refugees, the prisoner, the naked, the hungry, the thirsting…

 

And yet, even as I write this, I wonder might we not find all these qualities lurking somewhere beneath the prideful and belligerent façade of this man who seems to think he is a king.  And yet, again, are we not called to love all people? Not just those who are easy to love, who make us feel comfortable, or safe. The real opportunity comes unplanned, in the uncomfortable, in the chance to give of ourselves completely, without expecting anything in return.  

 

And one thing this parable makes uncomfortably clear: it is impossible to love someone if we are too busy “othering” them. Whether it is the immigrant, the refugee, the disabled, the different, or just a poor victim left wounded and naked in a ditch.

 

One of the blessings of having a liturgical cycle, is that readings are forced upon us; imposed, instead of proposed. And because they are, they can catch us off-guard, unprepared, surprising us with their prophetic truth and demanding that we pay attention.   In a sense, they come as unexpected as an encounter with a stranger in need. Whether it’s comfortable or not, we are called to listen, to engage, and if we are willing—to respond, to be changed, to let the words challenge and change us.  

 

Perhaps this moment in American history is a similar kind of challenge. We can debate the president’s policies and behavior all we want, but we must realize—he is ours, we elected him, and in some very frightful way—he is us! He is a challenge to be met, and we can either keep walking, pretending we don’t see, or we can stop and say: this cannot be. I must do something.

 

Is this not a time when we musts stop looking at borders and races, memberships and “tribes,” and instead open our eyes to the humanity of all people, look upon even those who don’t look like us, act like us, think like us, not as a problem to be avoided or cast out, but as an opportunity to encounter and become. Instead of asking: Who is my neighbor? we must ask: Who is in need? And what can I do to help?  In this unexpected and unplanned moment, we find not just a challenge or a duty or an obligation, but an opportunity to become the people we all want to be, the person who walks toward the cross, the neighbor who—in our hour of need—we all hope to see.

The Good Samaritan, 1890 by Vincent van Gogh 

Tuesday, February 18, 2025

What Kind of Greatness Do We Want?--Thoughts on the Gospel of Luke for the 6th Week of Ordinary Time

What does it mean to “Make America Great Again?”  Do we know with any certainty what our current president means by that? Does he mean powerful? Respected? Self-reliant? Wealthy? Secure? Feared?  I wonder.  And I wonder if even he knows what he means by that slogan. But, I think a more important question is: Do we know what we mean by that?

 

Each of us probably has a slightly different vision of what it means to be a great country. When you think of America and greatness, what comes to mind?  The Founding Fathers and the Declaration of Independence? The Constitution? Military power? The Lincoln Memorial? The Capital? Mt. Rushmore? Maybe it’s the Mississippi River? The Florida Keys? Or the Grand Canyon? George Washington crossing Delaware? A line of covered wagons crossing an empty prairie? Benjamin Franklin with his kite and key? Thomas Edison and his light bulb? Or Rosa Parks and the courage to just sit down, or Martin Luther King Jr. and his willingness to stand up…  

 

There are many kinds of greatness: political, economic, academic, artistic, athletic… But the “Sermon on the Plain” from the Gospel of Luke reminds us how God measures greatness.  This past Sunday (2/16/25) at Mass we heard a reading of the Beatitudes from the Gospel of Luke (6:20-26):


“Blessed are you who are poor, for the kingdom of God is yours.

Blessed are you who are now hungry, for you will be satisfied.

Blessed are you who are now weeping, for you will laugh.

Blessed are you when people hate you and when they exclude and insult you,

and denounce your name as evil on account of the Son of Man.

Rejoice and leap for joy on that day! Behold, your reward will be great in heaven.

For their ancestors treated the prophets in the same way…”

 

If we ever hope to “Make America Great Again” we might want to read up on what true greatness looks like.  It appears to have nothing to do with monuments or seats of power, human wealth, reputation or comfort. Nothing at all to do with “easy living.”  And yet we might still wonder: Ok... But, what does it actually look like? In practice? Lived out?  Luke has an answer for that, too. 

Next Sunday our Mass reading picks up at the very next verse (6: 27-38) and we get a clear glimpse of the greatness Jesus wants for us:

“To you who hear I say,

Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.  To the person who strikes you on one cheek, offer the other one as well, and from the person who takes your cloak, do not withhold even your tunic.  Give to everyone who asks of you, and from the one who takes what is yours do not demand it back.  Do to others as you would have them do to you… Stop judging and you will not be judged… Forgive and you will be forgiven.”

 

This sounds like true greatness to me, and only by measuring ourselves against these simple and clear instructions will we know the true measure of our greatness.  Turning away the hungry and disparaging or ridiculing our opponents (or enemies) will never make us great.  Instead, we should listen to the Blessed Virgin Mary and simply “Do whatever He tells you.” (John 2:5)

Wednesday, October 25, 2017

Render unto Caesar.. what do we owe our president?



“Then repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar,
And to God what belongs to God…”
--Matthew 22:15-21

 What does Jesus really mean by this?  What belongs to Caesar?

In the story from Matthew’s gospel there is a coin.  And Jesus asks someone to tell Him whose image is on the coin.  And in the gospel, there is this coin because someone has asked Jesus for tax advice. (Like He was some kind of early H&R Block.) But, the exemption they are looking for is whether it is right to pay any taxes to Caesar.  Caesar, the oppressive Roman ruler who has conquered the Jews and makes them pay tribute and taxes to support his kingdom. Caesar who has become a kind of new Pharaoh for the Jews.  Should they pay the census tax to Caesar? But the question isn’t really being asked because the Herodians and the Pharisees are looking for free fiscal advice. No, it is being asked because they are hoping to trick Jesus into saying something that might get Him in trouble. Because He is troubling them!

Whose image is on the coin? Whose inscription? Jesus asks. And these would-be tricksters reply: Caesar’s. And Jesus says, Then, give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and give to God what belongs to God.  And when they heard this they went away, amazed (cf. 22:22). 

 What belongs to Caesar? What belongs to God? 

Side note: This is an amazing little story. I read it to my Creative Writing class today as part of our prayer and then talked a moment about how beautifully and concisely it depicts the two characters solely through their dialog (cf. 22:15-20).  One character is the trickster (Herodians/Pharisees) who employs complex and very solicitous language, and the other (Jesus) uses simple and straightforward language in response to their questions.  Very nice example of show-don’t-tell. 

Back to the main question at hand: What belongs to Caesar?  Pope Francis (in a recent Angelus talk) addressed this reading and focused on the question implicitly raised by Jesus’s answer, and that is: who do we belong to?   And I think that is part of what I hear in this reading. But even more I keep hearing the question: what belongs to Caesar?  What do I owe to Caesar?  Or, for instance, what do I owe my government? What do I owe the president of the United States? Which, logically speaking means: what do I owe Donald Trump?  In Paul’s letter to the Romans (13:1) we read:
Every person is to be in subjection to the governing authorities.
For there is no authority except from God, and those
which exist are established by God.
(And there are several other places in the New Testament where we read that the early Christians were told to subject themselves or submit to the authorities of the places where they lived (cf. Titus 3:1, 1 Peter 2:13, also John 19:11, and in the OT: Proverbs 8:15, Daniel 2:21).)  All of this scripture diving and divining supports the idea that we have the president God wills for us, but of course that doesn’t mean we have to like it (consider the story of Saul and the warning given in 1 Samuel 8:10-18).  
But, even if we don’t like the new king (or new president) –even if he seems another Pharaoh, what do we owe him? What belongs to Caesar?

We owe him the gift of being an icon of God, of reflecting God’s love to him. Sure, we pay our taxes, and we follow the laws, but what we really owe Caesar is seen in the example of Jesus who spoke the truth and revealed the love of God even when it meant calling someone a white-washed tomb or a viper, and even when it meant accepting the consequences... What belongs to Caesar? As someone made in the image of God – our love, our prayers, our personal witness to the Love of God, and once a year –even our taxes. Why? Because even Caesar belongs to God.