These reflections are a result of more than 40 years of ministry as a Roman Catholic priest. Most of these years I spent in the Diocese of Charlotte which covers Western North Carolina. Now I am retired, and live in Medellín, Colombia where I continue to serve as a priest in the Archdiocese of Medellín.
Now the Arameans had captured in a raid on the land of Israel a little girl, who became the servant of Naaman’s wife. “If only my master would present himself to the prophet in Samaria,” she said to her mistress, “he would cure him of his leprosy.” Naaman went and told his lord just what the slave girl from the land of Israel had said. “Go,” said the king of Aram. “I will send along a letter to the king of Israel.” So Naaman set out, taking along ten silver talents, six thousand gold pieces, and ten festal garments. To the king of Israel he brought the letter, which read: “With this letter I am sending my servant Naaman to you, that you may cure him of his leprosy.” (2 Kgs 5:2-6)
In the wonderful film, THE HELP, Aibilene, the black servant, has a message of salvation for the little white girl in her care: “You is kind, you is smart, you is important.” In the Bible, the servants are important. As Jesus reminds us, “I am among you as the one who serves.” (Lk 22:27)
“Many more began to believe in him because of his word, and they said to the woman, “We no longer believe because of your word; for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the savior of the world.” (Jn 4:41-42)
As Blance DuBois opines in A Streetcar Named Desire:”I have always depended on the kindness of strangers." Well, in the gospels, we depend on the kindness of strangers: the Samaritan Woman, the Man Born Blind, the Beloved Disciple. The woman in the gospel story is anonymous. After 37 verses we know a LOT about this woman, we know that she is the FIRST evangelist, the first to announce the gospel to her whole village and they come to believe in Jesus, but we don’t even know her name! We all depend on the kindness of strangers, the wonderful anonymous heroes of the gospel.
‘How many of my father’s hired workers have more than enough food to eat, but here am I, dying from hunger. I shall get up and go to my father and I shall say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I no longer deserve to be called your son; treat me as you would treat one of your hired workers.”’ (Lk 15:17-19)
The Parable of the Prodigal Son—we’ve heard it so often. But look what the youngest son was actually saying: "I don't deserve to be called your son. Treat me like one of your hired workers." The son hadn’t learned anything from his experience. He wanted to earn his way back . . . but of course the father wouldn’t hear of it. Guess we need to remember that we can’t earn our way back either. Grace is freely given. We never stop being children of God no matter what we've done. As the father in the parable says, “because this child of mine was dead, and has come to life again; he was lost, and has been found, so let the party begin!”
Now Israel loved Joseph more than any other of his sons, because he was the son of his old age. And he made him a robe of many colors. (Gen 37:3)
The “coat of many colors,” no matter how you translate it, set Joseph apart from his brothers as the favorite son. And of course, it set up an ugly sibling rivalry that would end in Joseph being sold as a slave in Egypt, thereby accomplishing God’s mysterious plan of salvation.
“There was a rich man who dressed in purple garments and fine linen and dined sumptuously each day. And lying at his door was a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who would gladly have eaten his fill of the scraps that fell from the rich man’s table. Dogs even used to come and lick his sores. When the poor man died, he was carried away by angels to the bosom of Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried. (Lk 16:19-22)
I will never forget the New Testament class in seminary when we discussed this parable. Our professor said, “In the ancient world, only the rich had tombs.” So we asked, what happened to Lazarus. And he answered, “The dogs ate him. They had already had a taste when they licked his wounds.” Thank goodness, the gospel writer left out some details!
