Prayers for when it’s all too much

Do you ever find yourself holding the weight of the world in your hands at prayer time? It’s one of those days where you are praying for healing for Aunt Nettie’s cancer, sobriety for Great-Uncle Will, peace in any one of seven different countries, wisdom for local/state/national/pick two government leaders, peace of mind, forgiveness of sins…and, oh yes…could I get a little relief for this one worry I have? You know the sort of day I’m talking about.

This morning was one of those for me. I was getting settled in for Mass, and part of my normal pre-service ritual is to look into my heart and offer up all of the needs and concerns I find there. For whatever reason, today there were lots of them. They would have to delay the Mass for a half hour or so if I was to list off all of the needs that required God’s attention. But, as so often happens in the middle of my “me-led prayers,” God intervened.

Midway through my lengthy prayer list, the Still, Small Voice whispered “Hush,” and (for a change) I obeyed. And then He offered a suggestion: instead of me presuming to know what He should focus on this particular Sunday, perhaps I could be more helpful if my prayer was: “Here I am, Lord; send me where you need me.” After all, my service to the Lord is generally most useful within an arm’s reach. Rather than trying to solve the problems in Africa, Asia, and Antarctica (penguins have problems too, I assume), couldn’t I make a bigger difference by asking for the strength to be the best “me” I can manage right here? Surely the person next to me would benefit by a big ole Christian hug, a smile or a helping hand with that particular widget. God put you where you are for a reason. Today’s prayer should be for open eyes to see the reason I am here and to do the work that needs doing in this place.

God answers prayers; of that there is no doubt. He cares deeply about the illnesses, wars, addictions and worries of the world (including penguins). We are all His children, and He grieves the suffering of each one of us. We are encouraged to bring our needs to Him.

But, in addition to our petitions, He asks us when we pray to offer ourselves in service. Because we need to be a part of His solution. One of the most wonderful mysteries of life is how God uses His children to work His wonders. Does He have to work through us? No. Is there a life-giving reason why He does so? No doubt. Do I fully understand this mystery? Nope. Does it give me joy anyway? Yes, it does.

So, bring your concerns about Aunt Lucey to the Lord. Offer up Gwen’s bad back, inflation and healing for your Mom’s dementia. Those are worthy offerings and the Lord loves it when we show our love for others by offering them up in prayer. But don’t forget to finish every prayer with the most important ingredient of all: yourself. “Here I am, Lord. Use me where I am in whatever way You need me. Amen.”

What’s in a name?

God is not God’s name. Our God is THE God; the one true God. He is the God of the Universe. He created it all, from the smallest grain of sand to the boundless stars and galaxies and everything in between. He put us here and He guides every breath that we take. He is the God of the great and of the small. But God is not his name.

God is the shorthand title for this being who created everything that exists; the same one who cares about everything that exists, and who loves each of us. God is love. But love is not His name either.

So, who is this Guy? (or Gal; yes, God is both–and more).

Moses was the only human to pierce this mystery. On Mount Horeb, when Moses first became aware of God in the form of a burning bush (see Exodus 3:13-15), he asked God His name. God told Moses, “I am who I am…tell the people “I AM” has sent me to you.”

As with many things Biblical, this didn’t make sense to me for many years. It wasn’t even very good grammar. But over time, the fog has lifted. At least a little. That short-sounding name tells us a whole lot.

God is the one who existed before time; who exists now in all things; and who will exist when time no longer exists. He is in all things, above all things and He causes all things. Each of us breathes because of God. Without God’s presence, the universe would cease to exist. He is the life force of everything. And therefore, “I AM” is a perfectly logical name. It encompasses all existence because God encompasses all existence. It is eternal—it existed before, now, and always–because God is eternal. What other name would capture all of everything?

The name of God is in itself a subject worthy of both thoughtful meditation and pondering. It’s a mystery worth staring at. The Second Commandment says, “Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in Vain.” Mostly, we interpret this to mean that we won’t make a promise by God’s name without meaning it, and we won’t use it in a blasphemous manner.

Devout Hebrews take this respect a step further and generally won’t say or write the name of God at all. Out of respect for His name, they won’t put it on paper or into a digital form if there is a chance it may be erased. The Catholic Church, while not drawing a hard line, respects this position. The Catechism of the Catholic Church, at paragraph 209 says, “Out of respect for the holiness of God, the people of Israel do not pronounce his name. In the reading of sacred scripture, the revealed name is replaced by the divine title, “Lord.” (In Hebrew “Adonai,” in Greek “Kyrios”).

We don’t give names the consideration they received in ancient days. We are more of the Shakespearean philosophy, “What’s in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” To modern ears, a name is a label and nothing more. It’s a few syllables that make particular noises that cause a particular individual to respond when called. But names used to be recognized as much more than human dog whistles. Names told the story of the named; who they were and where they came from. Names could be aspirational; embodying the hopes that parents have for the named. (Two of my grandchildren are named Eleanor and Calvin, for the Roosevelt and Coolidge persons of those names. No pressure, kids.)

Catholics often used the names of saints for their children. In my case, I was named after Saint Gerard Majella, patron saint of expectant mothers. (My mom had thirteen children and my wife was mother and foster mother to 27; don’t tell me names don’t have meaning!)

Names can tell stories even when they don’t. One of my daughters-in-law has no nickname. She’s a perfectly lovely young woman, kind and intelligent. But nicknameless. We have tried to help out, but most of our efforts have been unappreciated, and besides, they just don’t fit.

After thinking about names for a while, I have come to the conclusion that Shakespeare was wrong. A Calvin by any other name would NOT smell as sweet (okay, bad metaphor for a pre-pubescent boy, but you get the drift). I think that, even today, our names tell stories. We have to take a little bit more time to ponder them and consider the story, but it’s there. Each of us is someone unique and distinct; a one-of-a-kind creation living a one-of-a-kind existence. And our God is the greatest story ever told.

What’s the point of your marriage?

It’s confession time. (No, not THAT confession; although it’s probably time for one of those as well.) It’s time to acknowledge something about the church that I’ve never fully-understood. Why is marriage a sacrament? What puts the natural biological pairing of men and women into the same category as Baptism, Confession, Confirmation, Anointing of the Sick, Holy Orders and above all, the Eucharist? What’s the big deal about two people saying, “I do” that places it in the same category as receiving the body of Jesus Christ himself?

As my parish priest is fond of saying, “The answer is love. What was the question again?”

Marriage, above everything else, is an expression of intense love.  At its proper best, married love is a merger of all the recognized forms of love: physical, emotional, spiritual and practical. It is both altruistic and self-serving, and often at the same time. It encompasses all six of the classic Greek terms for love, including agape, eros, philia, storge, philautia and xenia. (More on these in a future post.) Marriage is as close as human beings can get to expressing the kind of love for one another that God has for us. And love is the answer to that “Why am I here?” basic human question that gnaws at each of us. Because God is love. And God uses Himself–He uses Love–to call us home.

Make no mistake, God’s greatest desire is to bring each and every one of His children home to Himself. He wants every person on Earth to join Him in Heaven. Every one. Every Christian, every Moslem, every Buddhist, every atheist. From the holiest saint to the lowliest murderer; God does not want to lose a single child that He has created. In fact, those who have strayed the furthest are the ones He pursues the most vigorously.

My favorite vision of God is the father of the prodigal son. He watches every day down the long road, hoping to see his son return. Day after day, week after week, month after month, he is faithful. He watches and watches and watches. When the young man finally does return, the dignified father runs down the road toward him, embracing the son who has done absolutely nothing to deserve such a reception. God doesn’t see his sins; God sees His child. And that child has come home.

Marriage brings us home. Marriage puts two people together; binds them together and then builds them together. They shape themselves; first as two individuals, but soon as a single couple. The two become one flesh, and they become one spirit. Marriage is both metaphor and practical application of what the Church calls the “Mystical Body of Christ.” It is us coming together as distinct individuals and through the process of mutual giving we become one.  We become one in love. We learn from each other how to love. We learn to love without payment.

We learn to love with the patience of the prodigal son’s father, as we watch our spouses struggle with their own prodigality. How many billions of spouses around the world have stood with the father of the prodigal son, watching hopefully every day for their beloved to return from his or her selfishness, infidelity, anger, addiction or any one of the many other things that draw us away from home? How many days have we spent praying when prayer would seem hopeless? The love that is marriage is the love of the Father. It is a love that cannot stop because it is written into our creation.

The sacraments were instituted by Jesus as practical tools to strengthen us for the journey home. We are truly pilgrims on a very difficult journey, and the sacraments are our survival kit. They are the map that guides us and the food that feeds us. Marriage is a sacrament, a part of that survival kit, because this journey is too hard for an individual. It is a sacrament because it IS God, in the form of love. At the same time, it is a tool that allows us to strengthen our love. And, because it is two people joining together as one, it is the Body of Christ.

What’s the point of marriage? The answer is love.

So, where’s your Nineveh?

Yes, the Prodigal Poster is back again. I continue to violate every rule of good blogging. They say whatever you do, stick to a regular schedule of new messages. Don’t let other things get in the way of posting.  Not me; I let everything get in the way of writing. I come up with all sorts of excuses for not writing on a regular basis. Too busy; too busy; too busy.

How often do we walk in circles around what we really ought to be doing, burning more calories avoiding the work than we would have expended doing it? Surely I’m not the only one of us who can come up with more excuses not to do the right thing than to do it? God didn’t give us the example of Jonah for just my sake, did he? Sigh.

Jonah didn’t want to go to Nineveh. Ninevites didn’t like strangers, and Jonah suspected someone from out of town who came in to tell them they were going to die for living the good life was not going to be very popular. He tried to talk God out of sending him, but God persisted. God loved His people in Nineveh and He needed someone to carry that message to them. Jonah was it, and you know how God can be when He’s made up His mind about His children. Jonah was going to Nineveh whether he liked it or not.

It’s amazing how hard we will work to avoid doing the right thing. Let’s all blame Jonah; we learned procrastination from him. He didn’t make it easy for the Almighty. Nineveh was to the right, so Jonah got on a ship bound as far to the left as he could find. God had to send a storm after him, putting the literal “Fear of God” into the sailors who tossed Jonah overboard so they wouldn’t perish. And then, to underline his point, God sent a giant fish to swallow up Jonah and spit him out three days later…at Nineveh.

Eventually, Jonah said the prehistoric equivalent of “Fine, God, FINE! I’ll go to Nineveh.” He still didn’t love the idea. I imagine he expected to get about fifteen feet into the city before someone tossed a rock at him or put him in jail for being a pest. But instead, a miracle happened. The people immediately listened to this guy from out of town who smelled like the insides of a fish. They repented of their sins and turned back to God. The town was saved because of God’s love, with a little help from a reluctant prophet.

God doesn’t ask us to do the heavy lifting. He takes care of the big stuff. But His creation was designed to require our help. Before He can work His miracles and His love, He wants us to lead the way; to spread the word, to give permission, to welcome him into our hearts. That’s often not easy. Opening ourselves to do God’s work rather than our own demands faith and that dreaded other word: humility. Our proud human natures resist, and we look for ways to get out of calling the sinner, helping the poor, touching the leper, and loving our neighbor. We run away from Nineveh every day.

Thankfully, God doesn’t send big fish after all of us. But make no mistake; we do get swallowed up in other ways. Depression, anxiety, addiction, loneliness, anger; these are all fishes that swallow us up when we turn away from the mission God set for us. Leaving God’s path looks seductive, but “My way,” is never the “highway.” It’s a rocky, bumpy, steep, slippery and weedy trail that leads nowhere. Our souls seek the warmth of God’s love; we are drawn toward him like we are drawn to a warm campfire on a cold night. When we turn away, it is cold and dark, like the insides of a giant fish.

Where’s your Nineveh? Where is God calling you to go, but fear…or maybe excess comfort…is holding you back? Let’s go there together.

See you next week.

From your heart

The way God’s creation works is really cool. It’s all very ‘concentric.’ Things start from a center and ripple outward. Have you ever noticed this? The universe, atoms, and love all work the same way. For our purposes, the only one of those three that we can alter in a meaningful way is love. Let’s you and I focus on love (while God keeps both the universe and all of the atoms in it spinning in the proper fashion).

As with all things in God’s creation, love works in a very logical concentric fashion. We start at the center and work our way outward. The center of course, is God. A good day of love starts with prayer. We offer ourselves up to God. Then meditation. We welcome God into our minds, bodies and souls; both to fix what needs fixing and to strengthen us for the day’s crosses. Then comes love of neighbor.

If we’ve started the day with prayer and meditation, loving our neighbor is easy. Psalm 90 says, “Fill us with your love, O Lord, and we will sing for joy!” Once you’ve invited God inside you, things just sort of take off on (His) own power. Our spouses, children, pets and coworkers will be easy to love when we are filled with the love of God. In fact, it will be impossible NOT to show that love to everyone around you.

Don’t believe me? Try it. For the next week, make it a point to start your day with prayer and meditation. For prayers, reach for whatever you love the most; scripture, the rosary, reflection books, or a beautiful sunrise and a warm cup of coffee. God is everywhere and in everything, so He’s kinda hard to miss. Talk to Him. Listen to Him. Words are optional.

Then spend time in meditation; resting your brain. If you don’t think you’re good at meditation, don’t worry; God’s pretty good at it. Just sit there and breathe deeply. He will take care of the rest.

Now, go and face the world. After a very short time, a peculiar thing will happen; the world will be better than it was yesterday. Your spouse will be lovelier and wiser; your children will amaze you and warm your heart. Even your least favored politician will say something that causes you to think to yourself, “Hmm, that’s a good point.”

Your world will be different because you are different. You may not notice the change in yourself, but everyone within your sphere of influence will. You’ll be a glowing warm presence for them; someone they trust and just want to be around. They will feel better having spent time with you. And that will affect their interactions with others. And so it ripples outward from the center, which is God’s love.

Please try it; it works.

But I wasn’t planted here!

These flowers don’t belong here.

About two years ago, my wife planted these beautiful flowering vines in our back yard. She put the bulbs in the ground at the base of a trellis that frames the back of our yard. The pink blossoms were supposed to mingle with some deep violet flowers already there. They never appeared, and we assumed something went wrong; planted too deep, too wet, or something. Like people, plants mystify me. They do what they do, which may or may not be what you expect. Sometimes they grow, sometimes they flourish. Sometimes they don’t do either.

But then they started growing this year–thirty feet away from where they were planted! Now they’re climbing and blossoming on our back porch railing. It’s a beautiful addition to our back yard. But it’s not what we planned.

I’m sure there’s some sort of explanation. Maybe we have squirrels who dug them up and moved them to a more secure location; a quieter spot where they could be enjoyed another time. Maybe the squirrels have a better eye for back yard aesthetics than my wife; I don’t know. Squirrels mystify me just as much as plants and people.

Just like our Christian mission. The more carefully we plan, the more likely it seems Jesus will re-arrange that plan. I wrote earlier this spring that homeless people make me very nervous. I’m never sure how to interact with them, and as a result, I don’t go out of my way to spend time with them. But Jesus had other plans. After reading the story of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10: 25-37), I was reflecting that my life didn’t bring me into contact with people in that sort of distress very often, and I prayed to be a better Christian…assuming that no such opportunity would present itself in my sanitized life. (Sometimes I should keep my reflections to myself.)

Not an hour later, I pulled my car into a parking lot and saw a man lying on the chilly ground, wrapped in blankets. I offered him some simple food and a cup of coffee and an hour later he had disappeared. I have no idea who he was or what he was doing in that particular spot that particular morning. He certainly wasn’t part of my plan.

God created us with the generous gift of free will. We get to choose what we do with our time and our space. God allows us to make whatever plans we want. But God also reserves the right to tweak our plans.

These vines are beautiful. They add something to our lives that we did not expect.

Thank you for the help, God. Thank you for making my garden lovelier than it would have been had it grown according to my plan.

Thy will, not mine, be done.

Here I am

It struck me recently that you hear the phrase, “Here I am,” a lot in the Old Testament. I first noticed it years ago in one of my favorite stories, where Samuel hears God’s call in the night while he is sleeping in the Temple. Upon researching it a bit more, I discovered “Here I am” is one of the golden phrases from the Bible. Who knew? (Probably everybody but me, but at least I finally got there!)

“Here I am” should drive our lives. Moses used it, Abraham said it, Jacob said it. Later Samuel and Isaiah also uttered those words. “Here I am.” It means I am ready, Lord. Tell me what needs to be done. I’m here for you. I have absolutely no idea where we’re going or how to get there, but then that’s not my job. I just show up with trust and humility. Here I am.

The Hebrew word for it is “Hineni.” (Pronounced hih-NENN-eh). According to the internet, it’s a popular tattoo. I guess that’s a good thing.

But do you know where God didn’t hear it? In the Garden of Eden. After Adam and Eve fell for the tempter’s deceit, they realized they had committed the first sin, and they responded by trying to hide from God (sound familiar?). God is calling out to Adam and Eve, asking, “Where are you?” The obvious answer should have been “Here I am,” right? But Adam and Eve were hiding. They had sinned against God and were afraid and ashamed. You can hear the sadness in God’s voice when he calls out to his beloved children, “Where are you?”

Here I am is usually recognized as a statement of availability and willingness, but it can also be our way of asking for God’s help. “Here I am, Lord; stuck in this same rut. Yup, I fell for it once again. Please help me.” God doesn’t ask whether we’re prepared; he just asks where we are. All He needs from us is a willing response. We say, “Here I am.” He takes it from there.

I sit and write this early on a Monday morning. Time to face the work week, to move on to the next thing in my life. It may be a big thing or a small thing. Most likely this week will be a series of big-ish and small-ish things. The usual stuff of life. But here I am.

Here I am, Lord. You see me in my flaws and defects as well as my aspirations and talents. You know where I have been; you understand even better than I do where I am today. I am and will always be your child; a grateful child of god, but also a mischievous and misbehaving child. I offer up all of that for your great purposes. Where do you need me today? Who needs me today? Direct me, Abba. Here I am.

Does God talk to you?

When you pray, do you hear God’s reply?

Often when I write in my personal journal, my writing takes the form of a conversation with Jesus. Many, many times, after I’ve finished a particular journal entry, I will go back over the words that put themselves onto the paper and wonder where those ideas came from. Surely, not me. I went into the conversation with a problem or a grief and came out of it with spiritual direction. Is that God’s voice? Or was it simply the most obvious answer, based on my Catholic upbringing and years of reading? Both?

One of my favorite spiritual books is Sister Faustina’s Diary. Saint Faustina Kowalska was a Polish nun who was given the Divine Mercy Chaplet, and who directed the painting of the “Jesus, I trust in You.” Icon. Her diary is filled with the usual personal insights and challenges; but it also contains numerous conversations with Jesus, as he was directing her to spread the word about his desire for everyone to know they can always come to him and will receive mercy and forgiveness. There’s no doubt that Jesus talked to Saint Faustina. But, what about you and I?

I don’t hear voices coming out of bushes or from clouds. God’s hand did not inscribe ten commandments for me in stone. (While that would have been amazing, it probably also would have scared me to death.) Aside from one brief (and beautifully-startling) scene, I don’t claim that I see visions of Jesus or Heaven. But at the same time, I am very comfortable claiming that Jesus does hear my prayers and that he is giving me advice as I go through life. I am quite sure of it.

How can I be so sure? By the results. By receiving advice that turned out to be exactly what was needed. By overcoming things in my life that were too big for me to overcome. By watching loved ones recover quickly from illnesses that should have been chronic. From seeing too many examples to deny.

God created this world that we live in. He planned it from the vastness of the universe down to the insides of the nucleus of a hydrogen atom. He knitted existence together in ways that we don’t understand. When scientists figure out a tiny fraction of the whole, they are confounded by the symmetry, the choreography of it all; working together, interacting, one thing touching another in just the right way at just the right moment. Existence is one of God’s greatest miracles, and it surrounds us every day.

God uses that existence to guide us. An old twisted tree in the woods teaches me that God wants me to persist in my work, patiently, slowly, and with confidence. A humble homeless person teaches me about love. The wind teaches me about change. And yes, God does talk to me. It can be hard to hear that “Still, small voice” amidst the wind of the human world, but it’s there. If I listen carefully, and if I stop trying to lead the conversation, He will guide me.

Give it a try. Let me know what you hear.

Love God

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength and with all your mind.”

That’s a lot. By my reading, that covers just about everything a person is capable of doing.

By loving God with all my heart, I’m committing to love him more dearly than anyone else in my life; to love him more than I love my spouse.

By loving God with all my soul, I’m making a commitment to live as He has instructed me to live; obeying the scriptures to the absolute best of my ability, knowing that the end goal is to be near to Him eternally.

By loving God with all my strength, I commit all the works of my hands to him. Whatever I build, I build for him, whatever I craft, I craft for him. My work is the Lord’s work.

By loving God with all my mind, I am agreeing to let him be my teacher; to learn as much as I can about him and about his will for me.

Is it even possible to love someone that much?! Clearly, this is not a human sort of love. I find my mind racing to those parts of the Bible where the Jews say things like, “This saying is hard!”

Total commitment. That’s what God is asking for and offering in our relationship with him. God’s not looking for us to show up on Sunday mornings. Or even to say “hi” on our knees once or twice a day. God wants to be our partner, our soulmate, our business associate and our private tutor. Whatever I do, we do. Wherever I go, we go. Whoever I love, we love.

That’s a “Wow!” moment, isn’t it? The Creator of the Universe, wants to ride along with me and my tiny little life. But the One Who Knows All is waiting humbly for me to invite him. He won’t take this walk with me unless I ask him to join me. But if I ask him…Holy Cow!

How incredible will our school lessons be if we are learning them alongside the one who assembled each and every atom in the universe? How amazing will our work be when the person at the other end of the measuring tape is the one who built the world in six days? How amazing will eternity be when our tour guide is the owner of the place? And will our heart even be able to hold the love that we will find when we realize that we are loved by the person who is love itself?

This is one of those posts that started off in one direction but ended somewhere entirely unexpected. When I picked up my computer this morning, I looked back at our last post and groaned. There’s no way I can claim with any sort of honesty that I love God that much, I thought. I wouldn’t even know where to begin to rearrange my life. My life is so full already.

Exactly.

My life is full.

The problem is that it’s full of the wrong stuff. It’s full of self-centeredness. It’s filled with plans and schemes for getting through the day, the week, my career, my relationships, my little pile of earthly prizes. My heart is full of love and desire for things of this earth. My soul is full of frustration and worry because I fear that I can’t do all that stuff that God expects of me (and still have time to do the stuff I want to do). My strength is burned up in trying to move the earth in my direction. And my mind is a muddle of conflicting thoughts, ideas, questions, doubts, wishes and wants. If God wanted to cast me in the role of Mary or Martha, there’s little doubt that I’d be Martha, “burdened” with the worries of the world, while Mary sat at ease at the feet of the Lord, drinking in his wisdom and presence without a worry in the world.

It seems to me I’ve been looking at this whole “Love God with all your heart, etc…” all wrong. God’s not asking me to sacrifice my life; he’s inviting me to live it in a much better way. In a way that is totally free of worry, free of our modern favorite buzzword, “Stress!” He’s asking me to live it with him and frankly, to live it up!

Can I open my heart to the overwhelming joy of knowing I’m loved by the best lover in the Universe? Can I let my soul dance with God, who laughs and smiles and lives life like it’s meant to be lived…forever? Can I take not just satisfaction and pride in my work, but do it joyously, as God and I craft works for everyone around us? Can I sit back in wonder while God reveals His amazing creation to me?

Can I do all that?

Why would I not?

Love your neighbor

I used to struggle with the story of the Good Samaritan in the Gospel (see Luke Chapter 10, verses 25-37). But I struggle with it mostly because I think too much about myself.

To review, the story of the Good Samaritan is the parable Jesus uses to explain how you get to Heaven. First, love God with all of your might. Second, love your neighbor as much as you love yourself. It’s one of Jesus’s less-complicated stories.

Let’s spend some time on the Love God part next week. That is the first part of Jesus’s instruction and it deserves more attention. This week we’ll talk about the second part of the story; “Love your neighbor as yourself.” What does that mean? For the longest time, I assumed all I had to do is have good feelings toward everybody.  It’s more basic, and more important than that. Let’s go back to our parable.

The hero of the story is a Samaritan; a people that Jews of Jesus’ time hated and considered their enemies. (The story of why Samaritans, who were sons of Abraham, just like the Jews, came to personify the enemies of the Jews is a story unto itself. Basically, they were enemies because they lived on the Biblical version of “the other side of the tracks.”  But that’s another story for another day.) The Samaritan cares for a Jewish man who was mugged and left for dead. Two Jews, a Priest and a Levite, passed by the injured man, presumably because touching someone else’s blood would make them “unclean,” and unfit to go into the Jewish temple that day. Never mind that the poor guy who was “unclean” was busy “uncleaning” himself to death on the side of the road.

The Samaritan provided first century first aid in the form of pouring wine and oil on the wounds before bandaging them, and taking him to a nearby inn, where he paid to have the victim cared for. Jesus stops the story there and asks the audience who was the “neighbor”? The audience agrees that it was the Good Samaritan, and poof, a Biblical star is born.

So all we have to do to get to heaven is dump salad dressing on anyone we see bleeding by the side of the road, right? Nice try.

The first thing we have to do is look at who it is lying on the side of the road. Do they look like you? Are they maybe a little less well-dressed than you? Maybe their skin tone doesn’t match your own. Or perhaps you know who they are, and you know they always vote for “those people.” Jews had been looking down their noses at Samaritans for hundreds of years when this parable was written; ignoring someone because of who you think they voted for seems a little weak, don’t you think?

Next, we get back to what the rule is: love your neighbor as yourself. This is not Jesus telling us to have warm fuzzy feelings for our neighbors. This is Jesus making it clear that our job is to take care of others at the same speed and in the same measure that we take care of ourselves. What do you do when you’re hungry? You walk to the fridge and get something to eat. What do you do when you’re cold? You get a sweatshirt (in my case, a very comfy old Notre Dame hoodie that I will not give up no matter how ratty-looking it has become and how embarrassed my wife is to see me wearing it…oops, sorry.).  Thirsty? Go to the sink and get a glass of water. Tired? Well, you get the idea.

We care for ourselves automatically, without giving it any thought. That’s how we are supposed to love our neighbors. It should be automatic, not debated and delayed. It should be instant, not agonized. It should be generous and not grudging. It should respond to the need, not prattle about the policy. The next time you’re cold, sit there for a few minutes and debate whether putting on warmer clothes would only enable your dependency. After a few minutes ask yourself: are you warmer yet?

There are lots of things about God’s kingdom that I don’t understand. Infinity and eternity are just too big for me to wrap my head around. But then the other things, the things that really matter, are perfectly clear. Love your neighbor as yourself is one of them.

Heavenly Father, I am guilty of treating my neighbor like an object, rather than like myself, like a policy and not a person. Too often, I have convinced myself to cross over to the other side of the street while my neighbor bled. Grant me the strength to love him without thinking, to care for her as if she were myself.

Amen.