A Living Parable

I need to get something to eat, it's been eight hours since I had eaten and now I’m famished. My stomach was letting me know it’s not pleased with my neglect, grumbling at me in a deep angry bottomless growl. The streets of downtown are unusually quiet for a 2 am Sunday morning.  The bars are closing but, the crowds are not stumbling out. The all-night fast food drive thru’s are not packed with hungry bar hoppers, only littered with a car here or there. It’s unusual. It quiet, like a ghost town. Dead like a zombie movie.

I’ve been out too long, I should have probably been back at work five or ten minutes earlier, but I was enjoying the empty streets, the stillness of the lonely town with looming buildings casting night shadows. It was one of those moments where you just don’t want to go back to the monotony that awaits you. Somehow, I missed my mark. I missed my street. I hate one-way streets, I always forget they’re there.  Now, I have to drive down an extra block or two to get back to the right parking area.  Outside the passenger side window, I see something moving. Something becomes someone. On the sidewalk is sitting a homeless man with face looking towards the ground. Probably on any other night the man wouldn’t have caught my eye, but this was an early Sunday morning downtown that’s been neglected of throngs of college kids. The homeless man and me are the only people on the street. It’s eerie and uncomfortably strange.

As I pass by in my truck the man looks up, his face and gray chest-length beard are covered in blood as is the concrete and sleeping bag where he is sitting. He’s making silent moans, crying. It’s creepy. He looks like a zombie in this post-apocalyptic vacant night. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he was feasting on the remains of another.  But he's not an undead-flesh eater, he's a man and someone had beaten this man to a pulp. Pummeled him on the sidewalk.

My foot taps the brakes to slow down and see if the man is all right, but before I can think clearly, my foot changes directions and hits the gas. I’m late getting back to work and I don’t feel like hearing my co-workers crap about taking too long, I rationalize to myself. I tell myself, he’s probably a drunk and picked a fight with someone. He probably deserved to get the crap beat out of him. I’ve seen his type too often and no doubt I’ll see him soon at my work. Besides, I have a burger and fries I need to attend to before they get cold.  

Back at work, my partner leaves to get his own lunch. I’m left in the cave, an empty darkened room  with nothing but my thoughts to keep me comfort and at the moment they are not doing a very good job. As I settle in, content eating my slightly unsatisfying sirloin burger and cold greasy fries, I am struck by one of those uncomfortable thoughts. A parable remembered. My head is visibly jolted from excruciating contemplation.  My soul is bleeding. I just became a living parable of un-neighborliness.

On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. "Teacher," he asked, "what must I do to inherit eternal life?"

"What is written in the Law?" he replied. "How do you read it?"

He answered: " 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind'; and, 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'"

"You have answered correctly," Jesus replied. "Do this and you will live."

But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, "And who is my neighbor?"

In reply Jesus said: "A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he fell into the hands of robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side.  So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, took him to an inn and took care of him.  The next day he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper. 'Look after him,' he said, 'and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.'

"Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?"

The expert in the law replied, "The one who had mercy on him."

Jesus told him, "Go and do likewise."

I failed the test of kindness for a warm burger and fries. My heart sank in my own vileness. My broken and bruised spirit cried out silently for the mercy I could not offer, “ Lord, Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner.”

I picked up the phone and called for someone to check on my neighbor.