Being a Neighbor

Luke 10: 25-37

Roger Lynn 

June 12, 2016

(click here for the audio for this sermon)

The parable of the Good Samaritan may well be one of the most famous of all of Jesus’ stories – ranking right up there with the Prodigal Son. According to Luke it comes in response to a question from a religious scholar who wanted to know what was required to earn his way into eternal life. In Jesus’ usual style, he doesn’t answer the question directly. Instead he tells a story which illustrates his understanding of the matter. 

One of the difficulties inherent in trying to understand Jesus’ parables, and particularly the really famous ones, is that we have heard them so many times. And we have heard them referred to so many times. In the case of this particular parable, even the title has become so commonplace that there are hospitals and care centers named after it. Here in Helena people shop at the Good Samaritan Thrift Store. When something reaches that level of familiarity we frequently stop paying attention. So it can be a challenge to approach this story with any kind of freshness. But let’s try!

We need to begin by reminding ourselves of just how offensive this story would have been to those who first heard Jesus tell it. To cast well-respected religious leaders like the priest and the Levite in unsympathetic roles would have been bad enough. But then to put a Samaritan in the role of the hero would have been unthinkable. Samaritans were hated by the Jews (and visa versa). If they were spoken of at all it would have been with a sneer. This would not have been an easy story for Jewish people in Jesus’ day to hear. Which is why it was so powerful, and why it has remained so powerful. It challenges us to re-think our assumptions about “those people” (whoever “those people” might be).

So, having said that, it is also helpful if we look again at the Priest and the Levite. Over the years they have received a lot of bad press. Mostly they are seen as heartless, uncaring jerks (and that is using my polite “in church” words). After all, we think, how could anyone with even an ounce of compassion simply walk past an injured person? But the truth is far more complicated than that (as the truth almost always is). And if we are to benefit from the lessons offered, we would do well to see them as something more than just bad caricatures.

You see, they passed by without offering assistance because they were trapped in a system that kept them from living up to their own full potential. Quite apart from the dangers involved in stopping along a remote road (maybe the robbers are still waiting in the bushes), there were religious laws in place which spelled out what was required to maintain religious purity. Among the list of things to avoid was contact with blood, and certainly contact with a dead body. There were rituals you could engage in to restore you to purity if you did have such contact, but they were time consuming. So, if the Priest was on his way to preside at some official religious function, stopping to help a wounded man could have prevented him from carrying out his sacred responsibilities to his faith community.

We hear about ritual purity codes, and mostly we just find the whole thing difficult to comprehend. It simply is not how we experience the world. But that does not mean there are no barriers in place for us – barriers which get in the way of us actively expressing our compassion. When I drive by a motorist stranded on the side of the road, what prevents me from stopping to help? Maybe it’s fear, or a concern that they will feel threatened, or the assumption that they have a cell-phone and have already called for help, or I’m already late for where I’m headed. When I read in the news about the people in this country who are still living without adequate health care coverage, what stops me from being so completely outraged that I camp out in the office of my legislators until something is done to change the situation? Perhaps it’s a sense of overwhelmed helplessness, or a case of “out of sight, out of mind,” or I’m just too busy right now and besides, the Affordable Care Act is now in effect and that should make it all better. Whatever the specific situation and whatever the particular excuses, I think you get my point. In reality, not getting involved has less to do with being heartless and evil, and more to do with being so caught up in our own personal and cultural systems that we lose touch with what is really important – what it really means to be human.

Which brings us back to Jesus’ parable. The religious scholar wanted to know what he needed to do, and in the process asked “who is my neighbor?” But Jesus doesn’t really answer that question, because it isn’t really the point. The question to which Jesus really responds is “what matters?” What is really important in this life? What does it mean to be truly human? And the answer, it turns out, is not about knowing who my neighbor is. It isn’t about a targeted checklist that allows me to know who I have to be nice to, and who I can ignore and get away with it. The answer, according to Jesus’ parable, is about us being the neighbor. It is about being the kind of person who gets involved and reaches out with compassion, even when it’s inconvenient – even when it’s risky – even when it might cost us something. Not because we have to, but simply because it is what it really means to be human. For Jesus the choice is always clear. Health and wholeness always takes precedence over “following the rules.” Honoring everyone’s basic worth as a human being always takes precedence over following society’s norms concerning who is acceptable and who isn’t. Proclaiming God’s unconditional love for everyone always takes precedence over judgment. A friend of mine once preached on this text and considered calling the sermon “The New Normal.” In telling this parable Jesus is re-defining normal, everyday life. Neighborly compassion is not extraordinary behavior. It’s what life is intended to be like in the original design specs. It is the life which God invites us to live, challenges us to live, empowers us to live.

What must we do to inherit eternal life (which isn’t about “getting to heaven” as much as it is about living fully and richly in this and every moment)? The answer is surprisingly simple. Live compassionately with each other – in spite of whatever cultural or personal barriers rise up to get in the way – in spite of whatever differences threaten to divide us – in spite of whatever fear and doubt and sense of inadequacy try to paralyze us – in spite of all the limitations we live with everyday. Live compassionately with each other. Poet Ann Weems put it this way.

He said, “Feed my sheep.”

There were no conditions:

Least of all,

Feed my sheep if they deserve it.

Feed my sheep if you feel like it.

Feed my sheep if you have any leftovers.

Feed my sheep if the mood strikes you,

if the economy’s OK…

if you're not too busy…

No conditions…just, “Feed my sheep.”

Could it be that God’s Kingdom will come

when each lamb is fed?

We who have agreed to keep covenant

are called to feed sheep

even when it means the grazing will be done on our front lawns.

(“Feeding Sheep” by Ann Weems in “Searching for Shalom”)

There are all kinds of reasons why we don’t live this way. And it is important to remember that we always have a choice. May we choose life. May we choose to be the neighbor.