the holy gospel according to st. luke the 10th chapter. glory
to you, o lord.
25Just then a
lawyer stood up to test Jesus.
“Teacher,”
he said,
“what
must I do to inherit eternal life?”
26He said to him,
“What
is written in the law?
What
do you read there?”
27He answered,
“You
shall love the Lord your God
with
all your heart,
and
with all your soul,
and
with all your strength,
and
with all your mind;
and
your neighbor as yourself.”
28And he said to
him,
“You
have given the right answer;
do
this, and you will live.”
29But wanting to
justify himself, he asked Jesus,
“And
who is my neighbor?”
30Jesus replied,
“A
man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho,
and
fell into the hands of robbers,
who
stripped him,
beat
him,
and
went away,
leaving
him half dead.
31Now
by chance a priest was going down that road;
and
when he saw him,
he
passed by on the other side.
32So
likewise a Levite,
when
he came to the place and saw him,
passed
by on the other side.
33But
a Samaritan while traveling
came
near him;
and
when he saw him,
he
was moved with pity.
34He
went to him and bandaged his wounds,
having
poured oil and wine on them.
Then
he put him on his own animal,
brought
him to an inn,
and
took care of him.
35The
next day he took out two denarii,
gave
them to the innkeeper, and said,
‘Take
care of him;
and
when I come back,
I
will repay you whatever more you spend.’
36Which
of these three, do you think,
was
a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?”
37He said,
“The
one who showed him mercy.”
Jesus said to
him,
“Go
and do likewise.”
the
gospel of the lord. praise to you, o christ.
-----
i
have a confession.
i’m not sure i really want god’s reign
to come near. i’m not sure i want
god’s love to infuse every part of my life. there are some people that i’d rather just not like. i don’t want my enemies to become
neighbors. i’m not sure i want my
prejudices and pettiness flipped on their head. i really want to be able to look down on who i look down on. i don’t want to be vulnerable with
others—especially with those i don’t like, maybe even despise.
and
i really want to be justified in doing just that. i want to pick my neighbor and even if i can’t, i really don’t want jesus to pick them,
because you know if jesus is picking, there’s going to be at least a few i don’t
want.
sometimes
i think that lawyer has got to actually be me.
because
the lawyer comes to jesus and in an attempt to prove himself and to test jesus,
he asks who his neighbor is—whom does he have to love? in typical jesus fashion, jesus doesn’t
answer the man’s question about whom
he has to love, instead he tells a story about what the reign of god means for how we love and are loved.
a
man, presumably a jew like the crowd gathered, or if jesus were telling us the story, a christian, perhaps a
christian in the united states for many of us—someone who is like us. this person is robbed and beaten and left half-dead. the priest—a religious leader—passes
by, then a levite passes by. now the
crowd, following this pattern, doesn’t mind the priest and levite being the “wrong”
ones in the story—they don’t really seem to see eye to eye with jesus, and they’re
not always the most compassionate anyway, trying so hard to follow all those
laws.
besides,
according to the established pattern, the next one to come is the one to help
and that one should be a
regular jew.
that’s
how the storytelling pattern goes at least: first the priest, then a bit lower:
the levite, then a bit lower: the average jew.
¿but what happens, when instead of the average
jew or christian walking by—as the crowd listening to jesus expects—it’s the
enemy of the people?
you
see, in those days, samaritans and jews didn’t simply not get along, they
despised each other. both were descendents
of sarah and abraham and believed they worshiped the one true god. centuries of mutual dislike and
separation resulted in the samaritans and the jews despising each other—wanting
nothing to do with the other. jews
went out of their way to avoid encountering samaritans, including taking the
long way around samaria when traveling.
never in a million years would they befriend each other.
and
that’s who shows up.
the
one person or type of person that you never expect or want to show up
and
that’s all you get for help.
as a
hearer of jesus’ story, you go from thinking of yourself as the next one who
will come by and will help, to being left wondering who you are supposed to be
in the story?
and
then it becomes clear: perhaps, you
are the one who was robbed and left half-dead on the road to jericho. it’s either that or the robbers and i’m
pretty sure you don’t want to be them.
so
what do you do or think as the religious leaders of the time—ordained and lay—see
you and pass by on the other side?
and
then, your worst enemy comes near and through your delirium you know that you
must be a goner, because surely they will not help you
when
all of a sudden you feel gentle hands holding you, cleaning you, binding your
wounds,
saving
you.
this person you despise. this person you prefer to never
interact with—maybe even this person you are afraid of; is moved deep in their
gut with pity. for
you.
the
kindness and care of this person you have been trained to hate, to avoid. even if you were to try and resist
their help, you are too weak to put up any sort of fight, and you know you need
their help or you really will die, so you go limp, you let them care for you.
but
what must that do to you? one whom
you have despised or avoided on principle all your life has now been more
gracious and merciful to you than your own kin.
but
that is what god’s reign is all about.
it’s
about the conventions we are raised with, the prejudices and preferential
treatments being flipped on their head.
it’s trayvon martin seeing george zimmerman lying in a ditch half-dead
and stopping, moved with pity.
just
as jesus says that we must love him so much that even the love we have for our
family is like hatred in comparison to our love for jesus, that is the power of the reign of god come near: that our familial
love pales in comparison to love of god and our hatred of our enemy transforms
into service and gut-wrenching compassion—pity that moves us so deep down in
our gut.
the
thing about the samaritan is not just that he does good and not just that he’s
considered the enemy, but that the reign of god means that it’s our enemies who care for us and who we care for. what would have happened if instead of
calling trayvon martin a punk and going after him that night, george zimmerman
had just offered him a ride?
jesus’
story begs two questions. first: “who
is our samaritan—that person with
whom we’d rather never have to interact—who we despise?”
and
also, “to whom are we the samaritan?
who would rather not have us around? who would rather we just stayed away—out of their lives?” whether this is religious, national, racial,
gender, or personal biases,
from
whom are we outcasts?
and
how can we care for them? how can
we draw near to them, clean them, bandage their wounds, provide them with
shelter and comfort and food? what
would it take for you or me to be that samaritan we call “good” to those who
view us as samaritans?
and
yes, this drives me crazy, because it means that if i ever encounter george
zimmerman or a gun lobbyist or even fred phelps lying in a ditch half-dead, i
will not stand my ground; i will not cross over to the other side and
pass by, but instead my gut will be moved with pity and i will do mercy. and what’s worse: if i am lying in a
ditch half-dead, god’s reign is such that i will probably end up having one of
them walk by and be moved with pity.
now
don’t get me wrong. this does not mean that i will support or
encourage them in what they are doing and have done, but it does mean that i will do mercy.
this
story of the samaritan is much loved and well-known. countless churches, counseling centers and hospitals are
named for it. there’s even a law
bearing its name. this story is
vital to understanding the reign of god come near.
because
god’s reign is about love of neighbor and more than that, it’s the humanizing
love of neighbor that calls someone so despised and feared and dehumanized, a
young black man like trayvon martin, perhaps, not only “good,” but also
neighbor.
it
flips our rules about who is in and out; who we like and who we don’t like, who
has a right to live and who doesn’t.
god’s
reign means that love for family doesn’t hold up to love for god and god’s
reign means that enemies are the ones who do mercy—they enact neighborliness.
that
is how we come to know god’s love. jesus pours out his love and grace on the cross and
again and again it is poured out in the waters of baptism, not to save us
individually, but instead it is our corporate salvation. god’s love in jesus makes us all one
body, one family, one being with one purpose.
last
week, pastor jennifer pointed out that we are christ’s body in the world. and not only are ours christ’s feet and
hands as we interact with the rest of the world, but also with each
other—together we are the body of christ—adjoining cells, fingers, toes, and
eyelashes.
we
are the body of christ together in this world and what affects one of us
affects us all. because, as frederick
douglass said, “where justice is denied, where poverty is enforced, where
ignorance prevails, and where any one class is made to feel that society is an
organized conspiracy to oppress, rob and degrade them, neither persons nor
property will be safe.”
what
harms you harms us all.
when
anyone is beaten and left half-dead we all lay in the ditch with them. when anyone walks by we all feel the
pain of rejection. and when that
one, however surprising, unexpected, or even unwanted; when that one is moved
deep in the gut with pity, we all are moved with pity for that one and join
together to do mercy.
amen.
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