Won't You Be My Neighbor?
Homily for Sunday, July 13, 2025: 15th Sunday of Ordinary Time
There is a kind of a delightful irony in today’s first reading.
This first reading is from chapter 30 of Deuteronomy – very near the end of the Pentateuch, the first five books of the Hebrew scriptures. Which is to say, it comes at the end of about three books’ worth of Jewish Law which Moses has given to his people.
And now he’s saying, but really, it’s not that complicated.
For this command that I enjoin on you today is not too mysterious and remote for you, he says.
It is not up in the sky, says the guy who spent forty days on a mountaintop so he could get it for them and tell them of it, that they may carry it out.
God’s command, he says, is very near to you, already in your mouths and in your hearts. You have only to carry it out.
You know what to do, you just need to do it.
But we humans have a tendency to over-think, to make things more complicated than they need to be. But what about … ? But what if … ? But did you consider … ? Give us a law, we look for a loophole.
Jesus reiterates the message in the Gospel reading. When a legal scholar (speaking of over-complicating) asks him, what must I do? Jesus answers, essentially, you tell me.
You’re a scholar of the law, what do you think it says?
The answer is simple enough. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your being, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.
And that’s it. That’s the Law of the Lord, already in our mouths and in our hearts. We have only to carry it out.
Maybe I could end my homily right there. But I’m going to over-think and complicate the question.
Mostly because that’s what the legal scholar does in the Gospel, firing back with another question. Seeking to justify himself he casts out for a loophole. But who is my neighbor?
So Jesus tells a story. And we all know the story. He tells the story and once again throws the question back to the scholar. Which one was neighbor to the victim?
The answer is so simple even a legal scholar could get it. The one who treated him with mercy. The one who was moved to compassion. Maybe that is the commandment of God that is already in our mouths and in our hearts.
I recall a time in college, coming home to Maine. It was a car full of students sharing a ride home for the holidays. The car broke down somewhere in Massachusetts along Route 95. In those days before cellphones we had to set off through the trees at the edge of the highway to find a house where we could make phone calls and let our parents know what had happened. And the people in this house were good enough to let us all sleep on their living room floor until our parents could arrive to bring us home.
I’m sure we can all think of similar stories, each from our own lives. Stories where we benefited from the kindness of strangers, as well as stories where we were the stranger helping someone in need. And I think that comes from that Law of God, that which is already in our hearts, waiting for us to carry it out.
I’m sure we can all remember too the times when we walked past the stranger in need, ignoring that tug of the heart, convincing ourselves that it’s none of my business, there’s nothing I can do right now. And those, I find, are the instances that tend to stay with us, that nag at our conscience long afterwards.
I find it interesting – and maybe this is me overthinking – interesting that when Jesus poses the question, who was neighbor to the man, the scholar notably does not answer, “the Samaritan.” He answers more obliquely. The one who did the right thing.
Jesus calls him a Samaritan, it’s the only identifying mark he gives the character. There’s a Priest, a Levite, and a Samaritan. But this scholar of the law doesn’t use that designation. As if maybe he can’t quite bring himself to speak well of a Samaritan.
We, through centuries of Christian history and Biblical study, have lost some cultural context. We’re too used to the phrase “Good Samaritan,” and tend to forget that the people of Jesus’s time would say that the only Good Samaritan is a dead Samaritan.
The Samaritan is that person you’d cross the street to avoid if you saw them coming. If you accidentally drove into a Samaritan neighborhood, you’d check to make sure your car doors are locked. You don’t have any Samaritan friends because they’re not the kind of person you’d associate with and they really can’t be trusted anyway.
I think if we’re being honest, we’ve all got some class of people we’d regard in that way - people we don’t know and are sure we don’t want to. These are the people, Jesus is telling us, who are our neighbors. The people we must love as we love ourselves.
Jesus is challenging us here, to put aside our prejudices. To ignore the inner voice that says it’s none of my business, I can’t do anything about it. When we see someone in need, when our hearts are moved with compassion, whenever we see an opportunity for mercy, Jesus is inviting us to recognize the opportunity to love our neighbor as ourselves.
God’s law is one of love, mercy, and compassion. Jesus shows us this love today – here in the Word, and in the Sacrament. And he sends us forth with the invitation to go and do likewise.