The gospel lesson for this coming Sunday is the too familiar
parable from Luke about the “Good Samaritan.”
I say “too familiar” because everyone knows this story and believes they
know what it’s about: It’s a call to be
better people, to help those in distress, and not to be like the “religious
folks” who say all the right things but can’t seem to get their actions to line
up with their words. That’s a great
introductory explanation for six year olds, I suppose, but this is a complex
parable with many different angles from which to approach it. And, believe me, I’ve been journeying many of
them this week and discovering still more paths into the heart of this
quintessential Jesus story.
The news this week about the US House attempting to pass a
Farm Bill without a food stamp program and other news and statistics about
homelessness and taking care of our veterans has me fairly certain as to which
direction I’ll move with my sermon this Sunday, so don’t worry that you’re
going to read this blog entry and already know what I’m going to say on Sunday.[1] How’s that for a sermon tease?
But this is what I was turning over in my mind on my way to
the office this morning concerning this too familiar parable. A key element to this story is a call to see
who is around us. The priest and the
Levite fail to see the man laying in the ditch, for example, and because of
this they fail to exercise what the law requires: To love our neighbor as ourselves. A colleague pointed out at text study this
last week that many of the people who heard this parable as members of the
original audience would have seen themselves as the man in the ditch—ignored,
neglected, abused, broken, hurting. The
struggle for them would be to see the Samaritan, present and willing and able
to help them from their ditch. After
all, how could someone from the outside, from the wrong side of the tracks,
from among “those people” be able to help one of God’s “chosen people” from the
ditch?
Here’s how I imagine this scene playing out:
Samaritan: Are
you all right there?
Man:
Yeah. I'm fine. Don't worry about me.
Samaritan: Are
you sure? I mean, you're, like, not wearing any clothes. And I'm no
doctor but I'm pretty sure your leg shouldn't be sticking out at that
angle.
Man: Oh.
That? That's nothing. I'm okay. Don't worry about me.
Just go about your business.
Samaritan:
Aren't you worried about bleeding to death, though? I mean...that's a lot
of blood on the ground there.
Man: Yeah, I'm
okay. I'll just wait here for some help...I mean, for one of my buddies
to...help.
Samaritan: I
don't know about that. The only people I've been seeing on the road today
have been priests and Levites. I think there must be a convention or
something.
Man: (mumbles)
Yeah, I saw a couple, too. Don’t let me
keep you. I’m sure you’re on your way to
Bethel or something.
Samaritan: You
really don't look good. I think I should take you someplace to get some
help.
Man: No,
no. Don't worry about me.
Samaritan: Look, I can’t just leave you here.
Man: Nah. I
just need to catch my breath, get my bearings, get back up on my feet and-
Samaritan: You do remember that your leg is broken,
right? Maybe you’ve lost too much
blood...
Man: Oh.
Yeah.
Samaritan:
(Gets down from his horse and gently lifts the still protesting man out of the
ditch) Come on. Let's get you some help.
Man: But,
didn't you say you weren't a doctor? Maybe I should wait for a doctor....
Samaritan: I
think you should wait for a doctor at this hotel down the road.
Man: A hotel?!
Samaritan:
Yeah. At least you'd be clean and comfortable. Well, at least more
comfortable than laying in a ditch. Get you some clothes and some food
while you wait.
Man: (Mumbles)
The thieves took all my money...
Samaritan:
I'll pay for it.
Man: But then
I’ll owe you! I can't owe someone like y...I mean, I shouldn't owe
anyone. It's not the way I like to roll.
Samaritan:
(Chuckles) Don't worry about it. I got it.
What if this
parable, about opening one’s eyes to see God calling us into relationship with
our neighbor, is also a parable about calling us to see God working through our
neighbors to provide for our needs, to bind us up, support us, carry us, and
bring us into a deeper relationship with God’s self and those around us? What if this is a parable about seeing God’s
mercy at work in our lives through people we normally wouldn’t think twice
about?
I think that’s
exactly what this parable is. This is
the upside down nature of the kingdom/reign of God: God always works in unexpected ways. We acknowledge this all the time—from
Christmas to Easter to Pentecost every year.
Then why would we be surprised to know that God uses people who are
different from us (maybe right down to whether or not they believe in God the
way we believe in God...if they believe in God at all) to provide SOMETHING for
the faithful? God’s done it before, used
“outsiders” to minister to, care for, and teach the “insiders.” Why are we surprised? And why do still refuse to see the Samaritans
around ourselves?
Now, if I’m right
about this (and I think I am), that God doesn’t just use faithful members of
the church to minister to the church and her members but also uses anyone,
anytime, anywhere, and that we have a habit of ignoring these unexpected
vehicles of grace, check this out.
Many of our churches
are laying in ditches. Broken, abused,
neglected—by hurting clergy, by hurting members themselves, and by an
institutional system that is failing them[2]—they
lay in the ditch waiting for “the right kind of person” to come and lift them
out, to bind up their wounds, to anoint them with oil[3],
and send them on their way. The church
lies there, watching, waiting, for the right pastor or expert to see them,
connect with them, and solve all of their problems. In the meantime, God sends Samaritan after
Samaritan passed our churches and we ignore them, look passed them, waiting for
that perfect savior that fits our expectations to lift us from the ditch and
make us healthy again.
This is parable is a
complex parable. It can speak so many
things to so many people depending on where the hearer positions themselves in
the story. We’re used to being the
Samaritan, striving to be the good neighbor, hearing that call to see the
people around us who are need.[4] That’s a good message and one the church (and
our larger communities) needs to hear.
We do a horrible job meeting the needs of people in our communities, in
our state, in our country, and in our world.
But I think if we position ourselves in the ditch, as I think we should,
and realize that it is God who comes, as always, to lift us from our place of
abandonment and brokenness, who binds us up and sends us out, we get a much
fuller understanding of grace and love of neighbor. The challenge, of course, is to change the
way we expect God to show up. God is not
going to show up as your ideal pastor from 19?? to pack your pews, teach your
hundreds of children, and visit each and every member weekly. God is not going to send you the perfect
entertainer that is going to make your members dig deeply into their pockets
and drop obscene amounts of cash in your offering plates. God is not going to send you the leader whose
political and theological insights, morals and values, and social stances line
up perfectly with your own. Instead, God
is going to send you “one of those people,” who you don’t know but whom you
will hopefully take the time to get to know, who is not going to look the way
you think he should look or talk the way you think she should talk. But, given half the chance, I guarantee that
this Samaritan leader, sent by God, will work as hard as they can to pull you
from the ditch, bind up your wounds, and send you out so that YOU can be a
Samaritan to someone else. The question,
of course, is: Are you going to see them
for who they are or are you going to lay in the ditch, waiting for the person
you think should be your rescuer?
[1]
Reading my blog posts is never an excuse to skip church (though you should
probably be getting extra credit). The
primary reason we gather in community is not for ourselves—to hear a sermon
that connects with us and makes us better people. The primary reason we gather in community for
worship is for the health and sake of the community. It’s not about what you take away; it’s about
what you bring to the community.
[2]
Please note that I didn’t include “the world” in this list of hurting people
who have abused and neglected the church.
That smacks too much of Christian persecution and, no matter what
televangelists and popular writers might say, we do NOT experience Christian
persecution in this country. That right
there should tell you how sick the theology of these people is, if they are fantasizing
about being persecuted en masse like that.
[3]
And to pick up the tab. Let’s face it,
the Dollar Bill is a powerful god in the pantheon of western culture and its
influence is just as strong in the church as out of it.
[4]
And why wouldn’t we want to be the Samaritan?
Coming to the rescue, solving all of the problems. It’s what we do as sinful people. Theology of glory, folks. Theology of glory.
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