Sermon for July 11, 2004

6 Pentecost / Proper 10 C

by The Rev. Susan Anslow Williams

Particular Focus on Luke 10:25-37

In the Name of God, merciful and mighty.  Amen.

The Parable of the Good Samaritan.  More than just a controversial story Jesus tells to shock a self-absorbed antagonist,  this symbolic tale has become so familiar to adults and Sunday School children alike that preaching about it seems to be rather pointless.  I mean, who doesn’t know what this story says, right? We can think of a bunch of other clichés to describe it:   “A friend in need is a friend indeed...”  “Don’t judge a book by its cover....” {Or from our hymn:} “Neighbors are black and white, rich and poor, nearby and far away.”

Many of us could retell this story from our own history or family legacy.  For instance two years ago, on the Fourth of July weekend in 2002, I was back in Michigan for a family reunion, driving with my mom to the Detroit airport, to pick up my sister coming in from Washington.  We were zooming along on west-bound I-94, when suddenly the lights in the car started to flicker... the radio went off...  the car was losing power... and I had to pull over, fast.  No good shoulder to do so.  I just barely got up the next exit ramp when the car died dead.  Those of you who know anything about cars could diagnosis the problem right away: ... alternator.  The area where I found myself had no gas stations in sight; in fact, not much of anything was in sight.  Fortunately, I had a cell phone for just such occasions.  Unfortunately, it was back on my mom’s kitchen counter.  Now what??  We got out and stood off the road, trying to signal cars as they came up behind us, that we were going nowhere.  Within about a minute, however, a jeep pulled over and a young man got out.  From his appearance and accent, he was clearly of Arabic descent –   not surprising given the west side of Detroit, an area known for that population of immigrants; and for some nasty, undeserved reprisals in the aftermath of Sept. 11, 2001.  A fairly recent memory at the time.  Anyway, this Arab man in his twenties helped to push the car off from the road; offered me the use of his own cell phone; and stuck around for about 15 minutes until a police car came to give us advice and a lift to a convenience store.  Being the holiday weekend this fellow probably had something much more enjoyable to do that evening.  But he helped out, quite a bit.  And the larger symbolism wasn’t wasted on my mom and me.

“Wanting to justify himself, the lawyer asked Jesus, ‘And who is my neighbor?’ Jesus replied, ‘A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers...’”  (Luke 10:29-30)  We can finish the story by heart: The priest walks by; the Levite, who is also part of the religious elite, also passes by; but a Samaritan notices him, tends his wounds, brings him to an inn and arranges for longer-term care.  As we first hear the tale we identify with the poor man, left bloody and unconscious as two prominent people pass us by, for whatever reason – fear of an ambush, unwillingness to become ritually defiled by touching a corpse, whatever.  Then the action changes and we focus on the Samaritan. His generosity is extraordinary; he not only goes out of his way but takes quite a bit of personal risk to help this anonymous victim.  After the tale we suppose that when Jesus tells the lawyer,  “Go and do likewise,”  he means, go and help people in extraordinary ways.  Practice personal outreach and an altruistic lifestyle. 

Much also is made of the fact that the helper is a Samaritan –  an unexpected source of aid to the presumed-Jewish victim.  Samaritans and Jews were not good friends; in fact, two Sundays ago, we heard the story of Jesus and his disciples being refused hospitality by Samaritan villagers, who would have nothing to do with him when they learned he was on his way to Jerusalem,  the rival capital of society and religious observance.  We’d expect Jesus to have some rather negative things to say about Samaritans – dust off the feet, hellfire and brimstone, under those circumstances.  The suggestion to emulate a Samaritan would certainly have raised the hackles of Jesus’ original listeners, for whom the phrase “Good Samaritan” should bring a derisive snort or skeptical frown.

Our society’s “Samaritans” still abound – in terms of both the outsiders, and the extraordinary helpers.

I never had further contact with my own rescuer in Dearborn, Michigan – we didn’t exchange phone numbers or anything remotely personal.  Neither do we know if the injured man in Jesus’ parable developed any kind of friendship with the Samaritan traveler, or indeed if he ever saw him again.  Apparently that wasn’t the point Jesus wanted to make.

And what was the point Jesus was trying to make?  Where did this mini-sermon take his listeners?       The living saint Desmond Tutu has been known to say about his own sermons, “I only have one sermon, so if you hear that I’m to be the preacher, you needn’t come.”  (Well there’s a good one!  I’d go to hear him say the same thing over and over again, in hopes that some of his shine might rub off on me.)  But to continue, Archbishop Tutu insists:  “My one sermon is, God loves us.  And if we really understood how much God loves us, we’d all genuflect before one another in awe.”[1]

It strikes me that most of the time Jesus was preaching this same sermon; and that the Parable of the Good Samaritan might fit into that genre.  For what if – instead of switching gears partway through and identifying with the Samaritan for the moral of the story, what if we are supposed to hang in there with the victim, the poor schmuck left for dead at the side of the road, who has no money, no ID, no clothes – nothing at all  to lend him any decency, let alone an identity as worthy of help or not.  We are the ones lying there, helpless and bloody, and we are ministered to by a Samaritan – someone whom we might not choose, if we could choose; but nevertheless our very lives depend on that one’s generosity.

So who’s the Samaritan?   In the course of a lifetime there are many, I’m sure; people who remain anonymous, or from whom we lose touch,  but our lives and our futures are very much in their debt.  Ultimately of course, the Samaritan is God:  working through human agents, and particularly working through Jesus Christ his Son.  “I will pay whatever you spend on him,” promises the Good Samaritan.  Jesus paid indeed, an uncountable debt.

“Now, go and do likewise,” Jesus ends his sermon to the lawyer, the clever debater who would like to justify himself.  Do what?  Rescue everyone you come across?  Certainly that would do this person – and all of us, and everyone in dire straits – a world of good.  Spiritually to “go and do likewise” might mean something very different for this biblical scholar so intent on besting Jesus – and through him, all of us:

“Change your perspective.  Don’t try to justify yourself. You cannot do it.  Stop debating the law and the scriptures. Instead, know yourself to be wholly dependent on grace, and quite helpless to choose who will deliver it to you.  God will choose, and it might be a Samaritan in your eyes – an enemy, a heretic, a loser.  But if you do not receive God’s grace, you will not live.  Being a neighbor means both giving and receiving the love and the mercy that God has for us.  Capiche? 

Now, go and do likewise.”        ....Amen.

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