September 20, 2025

It was my junior year of high school, and I was enjoying my newfound freedom as a licensed driver, sitting by myself, in the family station wagon, waiting for the light to change down the street from the schoolhouse.  The buses and cars stacked up, and a man suddenly emerged in the middle of the intersection, pushing and steering his broken-down vehicle by himself, as scores of bystanders looked on.  No one got out to help him.  It seemed like an eternity.  A paralysis came over me.  What would people think?  It would be awkward.  He’s getting there on his own.  Someone else will do it.  He disappeared, and traffic resumed as normal.  Like a certain priest and Levite (Lk 10:31-32), I got scared, then came the rational-lies-ing, and, in an instant, he was gone.  Let’s have the humility this week to acknowledge that we ourselves are driving around in spiritual jalopies, and that when we reach out to others in need, we are really just affirming our shared goodness and humanity.  Here, as we enter into that mystical intersection where this life and the next become one, Christ will rise and remain with us forever (Mt 28:19).  Ave Crux, Spes Unica.