The road from Jerusalem to Jericho was a
notoriously dangerous road. Jerusalem is 2,300 feet about sea level; the Dead
Sea, near which Jericho stood is 1,300 feet below sea level. So, in somewhat
less than 20 miles, the road rises
3,600
feet. It is a road of narrow rocky passages, and of sudden turnings which made
it the happy hunting-ground of robbers. In the 5th century, Jerome
tells us that it was still called “The
Red, or Bloody Way.” As late as the early 1930’s, a travel writer tells us
that he was warned to get home before dark, if he intended to use the road,
because a certain Abu Jildah was adept at holding up cars and robbing travelers
and tourists, and then escaping to the hills before the police could arrive. When Jesus told this story, he was talking
about the kind of thing that had happened through the centuries on the Jericho
to Jerusalem road. The kind of thing
that happens in the inner cities of our country today.
One could argue that the traveler was a
reckless and foolhardy character. People seldom attempted the Jerusalem to
Jericho road alone if they were carrying goods or valuables. Seeking safety in numbers, they traveled in caravans,
like the wagon trains the settlers used to travel west. This man had no one but
himself to blame. Walking alone in that kind of a neighborhood, of course, those people attacked
him. He should have known better! Ah!
Is Jesus suggesting that having only himself to blame is NOT a valid reason for
us to refuse to help? That we must be prepared to help others even when they
have brought their trouble on themselves?
Wounded and unconscious, the traveler lay beside the road and a priest hurried by. Today we would say, A preacher late for an appointment drove past the traveler and thought, "You never know if it's safe to stop these days.
Wounded and unconscious, the traveler lay beside the road and a priest hurried by. Today we would say, A preacher late for an appointment drove past the traveler and thought, "You never know if it's safe to stop these days.
Someone's probably called 911 already.” The
priest couldn’t be sure but he feared that the man was dead; to touch him would
mean losing his turn of duty in the Temple; and he refused to risk that. The
Temple and its liturgy meant more to him than human suffering. The priest set
the claims of ceremonial worship above those of charity. Yet the commandment is to love God with all your
heart, soul, mind and strength and to love your neighbor as yourself. You can’t
love God without loving those God loves, all of his creation. The two parts of the
“greatest commandment” are inseparable.
The priests behavior certainly reminds me of God telling the priests of
Israel, through the prophet Amos, “I
hate, I despise your feasts, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies.
Even though you offer me your burnt offerings and cereal offerings, I will not
accept them; and the peace offerings of your fatted beasts I will not look
upon. Take away from me the noise of your songs; to the melody of your harps I
will not listen. But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like
an ever-flowing stream. (Amos 5:21-24)
A Levite seems to have gone nearer to the man before he passed by. But bandits were in the habit of using decoys. They would have one act the part of a wounded man, and when some unsuspecting traveler stopped over him, the others would rush upon him and overpower him. The Levite was a man whose motto was, “Safety first.” He would take no risks to help anyone else. Today, we might say,” A leader in the church drove by, but didn't stop. After all, it might be a setup for a car jacking.” You can’t love without taking risks
A Levite seems to have gone nearer to the man before he passed by. But bandits were in the habit of using decoys. They would have one act the part of a wounded man, and when some unsuspecting traveler stopped over him, the others would rush upon him and overpower him. The Levite was a man whose motto was, “Safety first.” He would take no risks to help anyone else. Today, we might say,” A leader in the church drove by, but didn't stop. After all, it might be a setup for a car jacking.” You can’t love without taking risks
Then, a Samaritan, one of those people, saw the
wounded traveler and stopped to help. He came near. He was moved with
compassion. Think of all the things
Jesus tells us the Samaritan did: He went to the wounded traveler. He
poured oil (a soothing agent) and wine (antiseptic) on the wounds and then bandaged
his wounds. He put him on his animal and brought him to an inn. He took care of
him at the inn. When he had to leave, he gave the innkeeper money to keep
caring for him, promising to pay more if needed when he returned. These were
things this man could not do for himself in his condition. The Samaritan did
ALL that was needed. Not just enough to make himself feel virtuous. Clearly the Samaritan didn’t worry about making
the wounded traveler dependent upon him. I think of helping others as a lot
like using pain pills. When I had my knee replacement surgery, my doctor
told me, don’t worry about taking pain medicine when you are really in pain. As
you heal, we’ll reduce the dosage and when you are no longer in pain, you’ll
have no problem stopping the pain pills.
Of course, you really have to
have a relationship with anyone you’re helping in order to tell the difference
between fostering dependency and truly helping. Are we willing to have relationships
with the poor, the outsiders, those
people?
Then Jesus asked the lawyer, Which of these three do you think proved neighbor to the man who fell among the robbers? While the answer to that question may appear to be obvious, "The Samaritan," that is not the answer the expert in the law gave, and that Jesus commended. The literal answer the expert gave was, "The one who showed mercy on him" (Luke 7:37). Jesus’ response, "Go and do likewise" is exactly his response to us, provided that we actually “do this” loving of God and neighbor. It’s not enough just to feel compassion. We have to actually start "doing" something. Compassion, to be real, must be shown in deeds. And the deeds must be done WITH those in need, not AT them. God’s gracious will is that we both give and receive love from whomever we consider “those people.”
Then Jesus asked the lawyer, Which of these three do you think proved neighbor to the man who fell among the robbers? While the answer to that question may appear to be obvious, "The Samaritan," that is not the answer the expert in the law gave, and that Jesus commended. The literal answer the expert gave was, "The one who showed mercy on him" (Luke 7:37). Jesus’ response, "Go and do likewise" is exactly his response to us, provided that we actually “do this” loving of God and neighbor. It’s not enough just to feel compassion. We have to actually start "doing" something. Compassion, to be real, must be shown in deeds. And the deeds must be done WITH those in need, not AT them. God’s gracious will is that we both give and receive love from whomever we consider “those people.”
The lawyer asks Jesus, “And who is my neighbor.” For the lawyer,
God is the God of Israel, and neighbors are Jewish neighbors. For Jesus, Israel’s God is the God of grace
for the whole world, and a neighbor is anybody in need. Jesus isn’t asking
who the Samaritan regarded as his neighbor. He asked instead who turned out to be the neighbor of the
half-dead Jew lying in the road. Underneath the apparently straightforward
moral lesson (“go and do likewise”),
one could see a much sterner challenge: Can you recognize the hated Samaritan
as your neighbor? If you can’t, you might be left for dead.
Today,
we might say: Can you recognize the poor minority single parent, or the alcohol
or drug addict, or the unemployed veteran with PTSD as your neighbor?
What lies at the heart of the
confrontation with the lawyer then, is a clash between two quite different
visions of what it means to be Israel, God’s people. What is at stake, then and
now, is the question of whether we will use the God-given revelation of love
and grace as a way of boosting our own sense of isolated security and purity,
or whether we will see it as a call and challenge to extend that love and grace
to the whole world.
No church, no Christian, can remain
content with easy definitions which allow us to watch most of the world lying
half-dead in the road. And let’s face it, we are in the process of writing off
at least a quarter of the residents of our nation as undeserving of a safety
net. The passage of the agricultural bill without inclusion of the food stamp
program, means a quarter of our children will go hungry. And that’s just the
beginning of the drive to claim that the richest nation in the world can’t
afford to take care of those in need. We
have enough for those in need, just nowhere near enough for those with greed.
Anyone from any nation who is in need is
our neighbor. Our help must be as wide as the love of God.
No comments:
Post a Comment