23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year
A. Rom. 13:8-10
AIM: To help the hearers by giving an example of
love in action.
“Owe nothing to anyone, except to love
one another,” we heard in our second reading. Is that realistic? Can we love on
command? Certainly not, if the kind of love Paul is talking about is a matter
of our feelings only. Feelings come and go. The love Paul is talking about,
however, is something different. He is talking about an attitude; more
specifically, about behavior. Here is an example. The man who sent it to me is today a
successful architect. Here is his story, in his own words. If it sounds
familiar to you, it is because you have heard it from me before. Something this
good deserves repetition.
“Thirty years ago, I was driving a cab
for a living. When I arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark except for a
single light in a ground floor window.
Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice,
wait a minute, then drive away. But, I had seen too many impoverished people
who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation
smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone
who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself.
“So I walked to the door and knocked.
‘Just a minute’, answered a frail,
elderly
voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long
pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80's stood before me. She was
wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody
out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment
looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered
with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on
the counters. In the corner was a
cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.
"‘Would you carry my bag out to
the car?’ she said. I took the suitcase to
the cab,
then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward
the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.
“‘It's nothing’, I told her. ‘I just
try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated’.
"‘Oh, you're such a good boy’,
she said.
“When we got in the cab, she gave me
an address, then asked, ‘Could you drive through downtown?’
"‘It's not the shortest way,’ I
answered quickly.
"‘Oh, I don't mind,’ she said.
‘I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice’.
I looked in
the rearview mirror. Her eyes were glistening.
"‘I don't have any family left,’
she continued. ‘The doctor says I don't have
very long.’
I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. ‘What route would you like me to
take?’ I asked.
“For the next two hours, we drove through
the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator
operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived
when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse
that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes
she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit
staring into the darkness, saying nothing. As the first hint of sun was
creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, ‘I'm tired. Let's go now.’
“We drove in silence to the address
she had given me. It was a low building,
like a
small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two
orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and
intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened
the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated
in a wheelchair.
"‘How much do I owe you?’ she
asked, reaching into her purse.
"‘Nothing,’ I said.
"‘You have to make a living,’ she
answered.
"‘There are other passengers,’ I
responded. Almost without thinking, I bent
and gave
her a hug. She held onto me tightly.
"‘You gave an old woman a little
moment of joy,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’
“I squeezed her hand, then walked into
the dim morning light. Behind me, a
door shut.
It was the sound of the closing of a life.
“I didn't pick up any more passengers
that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in
thought.
For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had got an
angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused
to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?
“On a quick review, I don't think that
I have done anything more important in my life. We're conditioned to think that
our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us
unaware — beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.”
The man who sent me that story offers
this final comment. “People may not remember exactly what you did, or what you
said. But they will always remember how
you made them feel.”
His story, which I have given you
entirely in his own words, is a beautiful example of what Paul is talking about
when he writes in our second reading: “Owe nothing to anyone except to love
another; for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. The commandments
are [all] summed up in this saying, namely, ‘You shall love your neighbor as
yourself.’ Love does no evil to the neighbor; hence, love is the fulfillment of
the law.” That kind of love is not inborn. It must be given to us. We are here
to receive that love, from the One who is love himself. His name is Jesus Christ.
The One who pours his love into our
hearts give us this greatest of all gifts under one strict condition: that what
we have freely received, we freely share with others. Or, to put it another
way: You can’t keep Jesus’ love unless you give it away.
