Giving and Engaging

"The Good Samaritan." It is a parable we've heard many times. It would have been shocking to first century Jewish ears to hear "good" combined with "samaritan." The social outcast, the pariah, is the only one who stops to render aid to an injured man. Religious authorities pass by without a glance.  

This phenomenon has sadly been acted out in many ways time and again; we typically call it the bystander effect.  I recall the famous experiment with seminarians who were released from class late to get to their preaching class (all were supposed to be preaching on the text of the Good Samaritan.)  Every one of them passed a person in need of aid and didn't even stop. The researchers concluded that our level of "hurriedness" makes us less available to render help to each other.

I've seen this situation acted out many times (the bystander effect and the lack of acting as a Good Samaritan) in my own life. It makes me wonder to what extend we are paralyzed by our social/cultural norms, paralyzed by fear of giving and being vulnerable. 

There is a fancy Greek word perichoresis which describes the relationship of God, Christ, Holy Spirit as mutuality and equality, a creative energy that literally dances forth (it is where we get the word, choreography).  Theologians have used this concept to teach how the Trinity relates and how we are to interact with one another: putting aside our power structures, especially in helping one another, we are called to foster mutuality and relationship over a benefactor/receiver type of relationship which has an inherently unequal cast to it.  

Granted, this is a little lofty in thought.  But, what if we thought of each other with this regard?  What if we humbled ourselves enough to realize that whomever we are "helping" may have some way of helping us in return? What if in reality we are more needy than they are? What if we allowed a give and take in the relationship beyond just handing off money or provision?

In Jewish circles the word for charity is tzedakah.  It is tied to the Hebrew word for righteousness.  It is a sacred duty and obligation to engage in tzedakah. What would our lives look like if we acted in this sphere of social justice more often? Beyond just aiding those in need, what if we recognized a responsibility for the well being of the other person: that whatever aid is rendered must help the person become more independent, more whole.

I think we would do well to heed the balance inherent in perichoresis and tzedakah.  How often do we rob people of their independence? How often do we settle for mailing a donation instead of engaging in relationship? Are we Samaritans?  Enablers? Benefactors? Or faithful people trying to live in a sense of gratitude, righteousness, and hospitable living?

On this balance beam is radical kindness and lavish giving mixed with common sense respect, tough love and the call of each person to live a productive, responsible life.  We do not always strike this balance well, especially in our churches and in our own wounded lives. If we are not to be defined by our seating capacity in our churches, but by our sending capacity, what difference will that make in our community? Will I choose to walk by in my hurried state or will I take the time to stop, look, listen, and engage?

Who is my neighbor? You are. We are. Everyone. Will I open my heart to this reality?  Yes, and I ask God to help me.

A prayer from Walter Brueggemann:

We regularly say:

"We proclaim the Lord's death until he comes."

In our primitiveness, we do not doubt your coming,

soon, powerfully, decisively.

In our settledness, your coming is not too urgent or real,

because we are venously entitled, privileged, protected, gated.

In our rationality, the "until" of your coming makes 

little sense to us, so we mumble and hope no one notices.

In these last days,

In these latter days,

In these final days,

In these very late days,

We draw closer to your promised "until."

We draw closer in fear,

in hope,

in gladness,

in dread.

So we do proclaim the Lord's death until he comes,

until he comes in peace against all our violence;

until he comes in generosity midst all our parsimony;

until he comes in food midst all our hunger;

until he comes in community midst all our alienation.

We are your faithful hopers,

distracted by despair, but hoping,

distracted by affluence, but hoping,

distracted by sophistication, but hoping.

Come soon, come Lord Jesus, come soon

while we face afresh your death,

until you come soon and again...again and soon.

Amen.