Today’s Gospel reading – Luke 10: 25-37- is the most famous story Jesus told: the parable of the Good Samaritan.

I collect sermons about Jesus’ parables: and from 60 books on my shelves I’ve learned that preachers can find about 20 to 30 themes in this story.

It begins with an expert in religious (’canon’) law asking: ‘What must I do to inherit eternal life?’ There are your first four sermons- ‘What is the good life?’ ‘Do we have to wait until after death to experience this quality of life?’ ‘Is it about what I do, or is it a gift?’ ‘Or has it got something to do with “choosing your parents – or mentors – well” (and the religion they handed on to you)?’

Anyway, this religious lawyer had just one opportunity to ask this layman, Jesus the carpenter, a question.

~~ Why not spend a moment talking to the person near you and tell each other what you’d ask Jesus if he walked into this church right now?

(Let’s all hear a few).

This week I invited my Facebook friends to do this, and got some beauties. Like: ‘Jesus what question would you like me to ask?’ ‘Why did my son die?’ ‘Can you teach me to walk on water?’ ‘Do you recognize this church as truly Christian?’ ‘If heaven is so great, why can’t we go straight there, and not bother with this troubled life on earth?’ ‘Are you coming to the pub for lunch after church?’ ‘Jesus, is Elvis still alive?’ ‘Why can’t some couples have children, when others can’t stop having children?’

One person said: ‘I daren’t put my question here, on this public forum…’

Jesus, being a good Jewish rabbi, answers the lawyer’s question with another question.

(John Claypool asked an American rabbi ‘Why do you Jews always answer questions with another question? The rabbi’s response: ‘Why not?’).

Jesus’ question/s: ‘What is written in your law? How do you read it?’

The lawyer: ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, strength and mind: and your neighbour as yourself’ (combining two texts – Deuteronomy 6:5 and Leviticus 19:18.) If he’d added another clause from that chapter in Leviticus (Leviticus!) he could also have said: ‘And our neighbour includes aliens’, (even asylum-seekers) Leviticus 19: 33-34. (There’s another sermon, for another day).

But the crunch comes right here: how to define ‘neighbour’? Perhaps this lawyer had heard Jesus say: ‘Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you’ (Matthew 5:43-48): pretty radical, back there-and-then – and everywhere/with anyone.

Jews in Jesus’ day were divided over ‘Who is the neighbour we’re supposed to love?’ The strictest of them – the Pharisees – said ‘My neighbour is only someone who agrees with how I interpret the law’ (= ‘the Bible’: these people are still with us. I’ve written something on that, titled ‘Pharisees Ancient and Modern’. Google my name with that title and you’ll find it).

Strict Jews believed Gentiles – all non-Jews – were created by God to be ‘fuel for the fires of hell’.

Jesus answers this question with his famous story. A man (presumably a Jew) walks from Jerusalem to Jericho. I’ve been down that road: it descends 25 kilometres from 700 metres above to 400 metres below sea-level: Jericho is still supposed to be the lowest point on the earth’s surface.  The winding, steep road was called ‘The Red and Bloody Way’: brigands lived in desert-caves near it and robbed people stupid enough to walk that road alone.

So this poor man got severely beaten up, and lay bruised and bloody on the side of the road. Along came a priest: their job was to offer sacrifices and preserve he traditions of Israel. Then a Levite – something like a modern cathedral chorister. They had a look at the body, and walked on. (Another sermon: Why? Scholars tell us that if the priest touched a body which might be dead, he’d be out of circulation – ‘unclean’ – for a while. (One preacher I read said this priest was a religious bureaucrat – most concerned about mucking up the Temple rosters! And the Levite was on his way to deliver a lecture on brotherly love, and was running late!).

(Two sermons there. And preachers love telling the story about a professor – at Princeton? – who told his theological students to meet him – one by one – somewhere across campus at a time he allocated  to each of them and ‘don’t delay’. But on the way they passed some drama students acting as if they were in dire need of help: one was vomiting; another had some sort of seizure and was lying contorted on the ground; another person they passed was moaning in pain or grief –and they simply hurried by and did nothing to help. One preacher said it was ostensibly for an exam testing their elocution – their speaking skills – by reading the story of the Good Samaritan. I must check all that out sometime. If hundreds of preachers tell that story it must be true 🙂 .

Anyway what Jesus said next took everyone’s breath away: a despised Samaritan was ‘moved with pity’ (a strong word in Greek – his compassionate feelings came from deep within him), bandaged the poor man’s wounds, soothed his injuries with oil and wine, put him on his donkey, took him to an inn, cared for him overnight rather than just dumping him there, ensured ongoing care by paying the inn-keeper to look after him – and offered to pay more later if needed…

So what’s the main point in this story about life, about good religion? Simply: Debating the meaning of words – like ‘neighbour’ – can be an evil distraction. The point is not about defining who fits into the concentric circles of ‘who’s in my group, and who’s on the edge, and who’s definitely outside it.’ The point is: if you really love God and others, you’re to be a neighbour to whoever needs your help, your healing touch, your listening ear, your empathy, your encouragement, whatever.

Samaritans were despised because they were mixed-race, half-castes, mestizos… And they responded – as people from all despised groups do – in one of three ways. Some – a minority – got angry, and became ‘terrorists’. Or they lived with despair and depression and – the majority – with a deep inferiority complex. Or a few became – like Nelson Mandela in our day – magnanimous towards those meting out condemnation/ injustice.

Or even compassionate and helpful, like this Good Samaritan.

Conclusion: Who’s in those concentric circles of ‘respected sameness’ to ‘evil otherness’ in your life? In the silence, let us name them to our loving God, and promise to grow out of any ‘heterophobia’ we think or practice.

Amen.

Rowland Croucher

July 14, 2013