Passersby

Luke 10:33

Seldom does a scripture passage so completely explain the life of faith as this line from the overly familiar parable of the Good Samaritan. But here, in a series of four phrases is the life of faith as we are live it. We should probably pay attention to it, then, right?

HE JOURNEYED

The first phrase reminds us of the basic nature of life. We live from moment into moment, each one leading inevitably into another. Shunryu Suzuki teaches that the best approach to life, then, is to meet it with “beginner’s mind,” i.e., every moment is met as if it was the very first moment because no two moments are the same. There is great wisdom in this teaching because it takes life as it actually is--we live linearly--we cannot return to the past, and we cannot tell the future--we have to get there. If we live in our memories, we miss completely the moment where we actually live. On a journey, we move from one place to another, each milepost passes. In that passage, we live, gaining experience.

The Bible accepts this image of life. In the books of wisdom like Proverbs or Ecclesiastes, gained experience is wisdom. We learn from what we see and do. It marks us. We move from innocence into maturity. Success teaches one set of principles, while mistakes add another dimension of understanding. We learn what needs to be kept and what needs to be let go; we learn whom to love and how to lobe, but also when to avoid love and the suffering of unrequited love. We learn the benefits of love, but also the costs and risks that come with love. 

Those gray hairs mean something. The lines on our faces indicate something. The scars tell deep stories. 

Wisdom becomes the acceptance of the movement of life. The past is useful as we learn from it, but we cannot become trapped there either by nostalgia or by regret. The future can only be met as it comes. We can plan, but we need to also understand that no plan is ever certain. Things happen, things change, and here we are, right now with whatever right now is.

WHEN HE CAME TO WHERE HE WAS

Our Samaritan comes to a moment of encounter. He meets someone. He meets someone who embodies ambivalence--he could be either a blessing or a curse. A man beside the road could be in deep trouble, or he could be deep trouble in and of himself. 

We encounter others every day. Each of those encounters will be an experience that will add to us. It will add either a deeper understanding of who and what we are, or it will scar us. Apathy is no assurance of avoiding the latter--to ignore someone brings its own experience.

The key is to meet the encounter in faith. We meet the ambivalence of the encounter for what it is--uncertain, unknown, and open. Faith allows us this stance of acceptance because faith reminds us that we do not meet the encounter alone, but rather, we are with God. That presence allows us to assuage fear that comes with meeting the unknown. It gives us the confidence to take what comes, knowing that in the presence of God, whatever it is, is limited. It cannot overwhelm God’s power to redeem. There is hope in all things.

WHEN HE SAW HIM

So, the Samaritan can actually pause long enough to actually see the man beside the road. Knowing God is with him, he can take the time to linger long enough to assess who is actually before him. 

So much of our lives, we go as if we had blinders on, not seeing much of anything except what it is immediately in front of us, and often, we do not even see that very clearly. We are preoccupied; we are distracted; we are overwhelmed with all that presses on us with demands, considerations, and calls. The net result is that we do not see much of anything except the end of our own nose. 

Stop.

Look.

Listen.

Yes, I know this is basic driver education about dealing with railroad crossings, but it works pretty well in human relations, too. In the daily encounters with other human beings, stop long enough to fully acknowledge the presence of another human being. Look at them deeply enough to see more of whom they are than immediately meets the eye. Where are they? How are they? What are they doing? Listen to what they say. Sure, it may be of little consequence, just a routine encounter, but if we listen, we communicate that the person was real, worthy, and a child of God. Don’t just flip, “Have a nice day!” unless you mean it--speak as if you really do hope they have a nice day. That comes as we listen. How do they feel? What do they mean? What is the tone?

All of this helps us to understand how we are to employ love in the encounter. It allows us to put them first, becoming other-centered--what do they need? what can I offer them? It also allows us to comprehend what sort of giving of ourselves we need to offer. 

HE HAD COMPASSION

The Samaritan sees the man beside the road, comprehends he is in deep need of redemption at nearly every level, and he is moved to compassion.

And that is the key for all of us--compassion goes a long way in being sure that whatever we say or do will be more beneficial than not. It means we meet the other person in empathy and sympathy. That stance makes us open to them. That stance sets the stage for love that is real and actual.

It also brings us fully and completely into the presence of God, for compassion is the foundational block from which God builds his relationship to us. God is the Samaritan who sacrifices himself so the other can be well, giving us even God’s Son to make us well. As we practice compassion, we realize that gift in and of ourselves. We make it real. We keep it real.

And isn’t that the goal of faith?

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So, there it is--the life of faith in four basic phrases. Stop, look, and listen to them. All shall be well and all manner of things shall be well.

Amen.