Acquire a well-formed heart
Dt 30:10-14; Ps 69:14, 17, 30-31, 33-34, 36, 37; Col 1:15-20; Lk 10:25-37
Do you have a well-formed heart? I’m not talking about cholesterol or beats per minute. In the Catholic Church, we spend a lot of time talking about a “well-formed conscience” and how to acquire one. But what about the heart?
For many people, the heart is sadly seen as a kind of second-class citizen in comparison to the mind. While a keen intellect is described as objective and discerning, feelings are often called “soft,” “touchy-feely,” misguiding, naive or childish. How often have you heard someone disparage an attempt to express or share feelings with a cynical eye roll and the mouthing of “Kumbaya” (a song whose origins trace back to African slaves pleading for the nearness of a God who had not abandoned them — hardly the stuff of empty sentimentality).
But in the Bible, the value of the heart and emotions are held in high esteem. Indeed, early in salvation history, the Lord hears the mournful cries of the enslaved Israelites in Egypt and is moved to intercede for them (Ex 2:23-25) and the psalmist reminds us that the Lord “hears the cries of the poor” (Ps 34:7). Throughout the Hebrew Scriptures, the Lord expresses anger, delight, and jealousy (see, e.g., Ps 149:4 and Hos 2:1-15) on various occasions, while prophets don’t even try to hide their frustration with the Lord (e.g., Jer 20:7 and Jon 4:1-4).
In the Gospels, Jesus is clearly moved by his emotions: He feels pity for the people of Israel, grieves tearfully over the death of Lazarus, shows rage toward the moneychangers in the Temple and sweats blood in anguish over his coming crucifixion (Mt 9:36; Jn 11:33-35; Mk 11:15-17; Lk 22:44).
In the first reading from Deuteronomy, we find Moses telling the Israelites that the law of the Lord is not simply to be known in the written commandments of the covenant, but that it is already intimately near to their very hearts — they need only “carry it out.” Centuries after Moses, Jeremiah reveals that God will write his law on the hearts of the Israelites (Jer 31:33). They will no longer need to read or study it as a theological exercise for they will somehow have immediate access to God’s intentions for them.
But how can that happen? We are not simply robots, forced to enact God’s will. Our Gospel passage suggests an insight into how the promise God made to Moses and Jeremiah might be realized.
We call Jesus’ parable “the good Samaritan,” but Jesus never refers to the Samaritan’s “goodness.” Rather, he highlights that the Samaritan is an authentic neighbor to the wounded traveler. By its very definition, “neighbor” implies relationship, which can be more or less loving. The priest and Levite who pass by the robbery victim do have a relationship with him, but it is objectifying and dismissive. They certainly know the law, for they have doubtless studied it for many years (just like the scholar who approaches Jesus at the beginning of the Gospel), but they do not carry it out.
What does the Samaritan have that they lack? All that Jesus says is that he was “moved with compassion at the sight” of the man. He was moved: His feelings and emotions spurred him into action.
Oftentimes, a compassionate response is grounded in one’s having his or her own prior experience of suffering. Perhaps it is no coincidence that a Samaritan, who would certainly know the practice of being socially shunned, would also be the first to feel compassion.
Sound catechesis is preceded by encounter. Jesus suggests that a well-formed heart is not primarily the product of learning moral theology (although that is an integral part of such formation), but rather the direct encounter with those who are marginalized and suffering. Once we have an encounter, then we can formulate more relevant questions and engage in more honest self-reflection on our reactions. Now we become more fertile ground that the wisdom of our tradition can till.
To acquire a well-formed heart, we should seek out opportunities to encounter those who are “lying by the roadsides” of our own lives, in our families, workplaces and communities. Presence matters.
Like a good neighbor, the Samaritan is there. Where are you?