Faithful Lines / Shirley Vogler Meister

Being a good Samaritan is a balancing act

One year ago, Reed Nelson died in California, where he and his wife, Lynnell, retired to be closer to their family.

Lynnell returned to Indianapolis last fall to arrange a memorial Mass for her husband at St. Monica Church. The couple shared unique talents for many years at the parish. In fact, stained-glass windows that they designed and made with the help of dedicated parishioners are still there.

I wrote a column for The Indianapolis Star, published on March 31, 1995, that featured the couple for another reason.

Not long before, outside a store on the Indianapolis north side, a courteous young man named Eddie approached Reed and explained that he was stranded in the city and was trying to panhandle enough money to get back to his home in Ohio. The bus ticket cost $49, but he only had $16.

Reed gave him $35, but insisted on driving the man downtown to the bus station. On the way, Eddie shared the story of how his mother and his four children had perished in a fire the year before. He admitted to coping with his grief through drugs and alcohol then turned to God for help. He knew his loved ones were “in heaven,” and felt that if he didn’t repent before his death he would not see them again.

After depositing Eddie at the bus station, Reed returned home, eager to tell Lynnell what happened. As he began telling her the story, she finished his sentences. While she was at a shopping center parking lot not far from where Reed had been, Eddie had approached her too, sharing the same story but telling her that he only had $15. She gave him a dollar, bringing his cash to the $16 that Eddie told Reed he had.

Reed wondered whether he and Lynnell were “good guys or chumps.” Their experiences ended well, however, making them good Samaritans.

“Who is my neighbor?” someone asked Jesus in a New Testament parable about a traveling man. Jesus said, “The one who showed mercy.”

How many others passed Eddie the traveler without hearing or heeding him? Reed and Lynnell did—with Reed going the extra six miles by taking Eddie to his bus. What prompted them to respond as they did? Compassion, instinct, lack of fear or Eddie’s sincerity? Sometimes we must cast worries aside and act with compassion.

Some years ago on a sweltering day, two salesmen approached me as I watered flowers in my yard. I listened to their spiel then sent them away. Later, I watched a neighbor give the men glasses of water. I had been too concerned with the possibility of danger to realize how thirsty they must have been.

How do we as Christians balance mercy with the skepticism and fear that we feel in an era of excessive crime and violence?

(Shirley Vogler Meister, a member of Christ the King Parish in Indianapolis, is a regular columnist for The Criterion.) †