Fr, Matt invited to preach & concelebrate at Holy Family Annual Parish Picnic
Think about the last time you had a true emergency out in the field. Maybe a combine caught fire right at the peak of harvest, or a heavy storm took half a roof off your barn. In a community like ours, you don't even have to make a phone call. Before you can even figure out your next step, you look down the gravel road and see dust kicking up. It’s your neighbors pulling into your driveway with their own tractors and tools, ready to help you get your crops out of the weather. We know exactly how to show up when the house is on fire, but today’s scriptures ask a much harder question. They ask how we handle the quiet, hidden, everyday struggles.
In the Gospel, a scholar asks Jesus, “Who is my neighbor?” He was probably hoping Jesus would draw a comfortable fence line around the folks who already look, think, and live just like us. Instead, Jesus tells the story of the Good Samaritan and tears down every boundary we try to build. He shows us that our neighbor isn't just the person who checks all our easy boxes. It’s the stranger, the outsider, and even the person we’d honestly rather avoid.
That challenge hits us right where we live during a tough season like this one. We are carrying some heavy, quiet burdens in agriculture right now. Between falling crop prices, skyrocketing input costs, and constant financial worries about things completely out of our control, the pressure can feel suffocating. You can work fourteen-hour days, do everything right, and still watch the math work against you.
In North Java and the surrounding towns where I had the privilege to serve as shepherd for twelve years, the people have a tradition of being tough and keeping their heads down, but that independence can become a dangerous wall. Too often, when the anxiety gets to be too much, a neighbor starts to pull back. They stop showing up at the morning coffee counter, their field goes untended, or their equipment just sits idle.
When we see a neighbor quietly drowning under financial strain or mental exhaustion, the temptation is to cross to the other side of the road and tell ourselves it’s none of our business. We avoid pulling into their driveway because sitting with someone else's pain makes us uncomfortable.
But the priest and the Levite in the story also had plenty of "good reasons" to pass by and stay in their comfort zones. The Samaritan was the only one who let his day be completely interrupted by someone else's brokenness.
Loving our neighbor means breaking that silence. We need to turn off the truck, pull into that neighbor’s driveway, and just check in on them. We have to find the courage to ask how they are really doing, sit on the tailgate, and just listen to the raw truth about the stress they're under. Together, we can remove the shame and make this our community where nobody has to hide their financial despair or mental exhaustion.
Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends. May our neighbors never feel alone in their dark days, and may we always be the ones who bring warmth and light to their struggles, just as a true neighbor should.
