It all started earlier this afternoon as Gail and the kids waited in the comfortably air-conditioned van while I ran across the busy intersection of Sepulveda and Vermont in Torrance, California in 90 degree heat. I was on my way to meet a complete stranger in the Food4Less parking lot, as he bought my extra Disneyland tickets from me through Craigslist (that’s another blog on its own!). As I had a few minutes to spare, I headed towards Burger King to use the washroom. That’s when I noticed that a big jeep had run out of gas in a left-hand turn lane…thankfully not yet in the busy intersection.
Promising myself that I would offer to help after taking care of my business, I used the restroom as quickly as I could. As I returned to the street, I noticed that the driver had succeeded in pushing the massive vehicle through the intersection and next to the curb in front of Burger King. In looking at the guy, I wasn’t surprised at his feat: the guy was massive. His legs were tree trunks, his chest was protruding from his under-sized tank top, and each of his tattooed arms seemed bigger than both of my legs combined.
“Did you need help, bro?” I offered…not really knowing what I wanted to hear as an answer.
“Yeah, sure, thanks man” he answered. Then he looked at me more closely. “It might be tough getting the truck into the parking lot though.”
It was likely a comical scene; in fact I wouldn’t have blamed him if he burst out laughing. Here was a smallish, wimpy-looking stranger offering his assistance to the second-coming of Brock Lesnar. I shot a quick glance at the entrance to the Food4Less parking lot: it indeed had a slight incline, both at its entrance to the street and also for the next 10 or 15 feet afterwards. I convinced myself that he was more concerned with the incline than my rather unimposing physique.
“Hey baby” he said to whomever had taken over the steering of the jeep, “we’re gonna push the jeep up into the parking lot.”
We counted three together and gave the jeep a mighty push from behind, our legs driving our collective strength up against the trunk. It took a few seconds to get going, but to my delight, the jeep eventually started to roll forward, and my new friend seemed a little surprised at my strength (or at least at the fact that I had any).
“Hey, don’t let this gut fool you,” I laughed, pointing to my stomach.
Bad idea, as I said and did this WHILE we were still pushing, costing us whatever momentum we had accumulated to that point.
“Whoops…sorry.”
After another 45 seconds of pushing, grunting, and sweating, the jeep finally came to a rest safely in the parking lot. The big guy thanked me and shook my hand, assuring me that they could take care of things from there. As I walked away from the jeep, I noticed that there were 4 heads inside of it, and not just one. No wonder it was so difficult to push: the other passengers (other than the one steering) didn’t bother to get out of the jeep!
Laughing to myself, I resumed my look-out for stranger #2 (the Craigslist guy).
After completing the transaction (it seemed so shady exchanging goods for money in broad daylight…anyone who has bought or sold anything from a stranger online would attest to this), I returned to the van and we embarked on our drive to San Diego.
I told Gail and the kids why I was sweating and out of breath. Sean, ever the inquisitive one, asked “Why did you help him, Dad? You didn’t even know him. That’s dangerous!”
“That’s what we’re called to do, son” I replied, admittedly a bit proud of myself.
“We should always help those in need,” Gail added simply yet pointedly. No wonder she’s a teacher!
“I guess the only time we shouldn’t help people is if we’re on our way to church,” Sean said. “Because we don’t want to be late for God.”
I smiled as the parallel to the Good Samaritan story from Luke (that we heard at Mass last week) struck me right away. How both the priest and Levite avoided the Jewish traveler that had been beaten and robbed and left at the side of the road for dead. Whether the priest in the parable was going to church, leaving church, or just wanting to “stay clean”, the bottom line was that he didn’t stop to help. The Samaritan, the supposed enemy of the Jew, was the one who helped.
“God will understand if you’re a few minutes late, Sean. Especially if you’re doing the right thing.”
As we continued our drive south on the freeway, I thanked God for the small opportunities to minister, whether it be with strangers or my own family.
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