July 13 Fifth Sunday after Pentecost
Amos 7.7-17 Psalm 82 Colossians 1.1-14 Luke 10.25-37
The parable of the Good Samaritan is probably very familiar to most, if not all, of us. This parable is responsible for us referring to those who show care and compassion to strangers as Samaritans, and for the name being used by many organisations who offer assistance to those in need.
But parables are meant to ‘provoke’ or ‘challenge’ the assumptions of the listener through vivid or unexpected storytelling. And maybe, through our familiarity with the story, those vivid or unexpected elements have been dulled so much they have all but disappeared.
So let us look beyond the story, and examine the whole incident. Jesus is asked a valid and innocent question by someone who genuinely wants some instruction on how to live fully, how to inherit eternal life. And Jesus immediately turns the tables back on the questioner – what is written in the Law. And the lawyer gets A+ for his answer. He then asks for clarification – who is my neighbour, he wants specifics, where do I draw the line, is it just at my door, do I stick to the racial and cultural boundaries I have grown up with. And Jesus responds with this story, the one we all know so well, we perhaps fail to hear it properly any more.
The priest and Levite are not going to worship, they are coming from worship so our assumption that they didn’t respond to the injured man because they did not want to risk being ‘unclean’ when they arrived at worship is mistaken. The Levite and the priest represent us, and they are doing what was ‘accepted practice’ in their time and place – they were ignoring or ‘not seeing’ the injured man.
Now in Jesus time, the difference between Jews and Samaritans was not just a small racial thing – it was embodied and real, and those differences were not easily overcome. So when Jesus made a Samaritan the ‘hero’ of the story, it was both risky and radical. He was asking his listeners, and the lawyer, to accept the possibility that a person was more than the sum of their political, racial, cultural and economic identities. He was asking them to disregard the centuries of history they had grown up with and leave room for divine and world-shattering surprises.
It is not uncommon for us to ‘picture’ ourselves as the Samaritan, as the one offering assistance, because that is the image we would like to think is us. We are reluctant to see ourselves as the priest or Levite who ‘failed to see’ the need in the wounded man, but, in reality we probably are that person more often than we would prefer to think. But how often do we picture ourselves as the wounded man. And notice, he is the only person in the story who does not have a ‘label’, who is not ‘known’ or ‘identified’ by his profession or social class or religious affiliation. Maybe we need to occasionally see ourselves as the one who is broken, grateful to anyone who will show us mercy. Because then, all tribalism will be discarded on the broken road; all division of ‘us’ and ‘them’ will disappear out of necessity. When we are lying, exposed and bleeding in a ditch, it does not matter who we would ‘prefer’ to help us, it does not matter whether their religious practices most align with mine. What matters is whether anyone will stop and help you before you die. And if it hasn’t happened yet, it will. Somehow, someday, somewhere, it will happen to all of us.
And when it does, our theology will not be what saves us. Our long-held beliefs and affiliations will not be what matters. The only thing that will matter is how quickly I can swallow my pride and accept the assistance offered me; how quickly I can grab hold of that outstretched hand that I never thought I would touch.
Go and do likewise – Jesus is telling the lawyer to go and do what the Samaritan did, go and see those around you, go and respond as you are able. For Jesus, ‘who is my neighbour’ means a commitment to coming near, the neighbour is not just the person living next door. Your neighbour is that person in your community experiencing pain, struggles, challenges, and sorrow, to whom Jesus asks you to draw near. They might resist, but you can ‘gently’ and ‘respectfully’ continue to offer assistance.
The lawyer asked, ‘who is my neighbour’, the one who scandalises you with compassion is the answer Jesus offers. The one who upends all your long-held categories and shocks you with the face of God. Your neighbour is the one who mercifully steps over the ancient, bloodied line separating ‘us’ from ‘them’ and teaches me the real meaning of ‘good’.
What do I need to do to inherit eternal life? Do this. Do this and you will live.