His Heart, My Hands

Calvary Cares. I’m really excited about the vision for ministry and mission that God has given us. I’m excited about people in Petal and the surrounding communities discovering that we are a people who love God intensely and love people intentionally. And I’m excited about the transforming power of God’s grace-filled love that will come from us and bring healing, comfort, encouragement and eternal life change to those who receive it from God. I hope you’re excited too. But let’s remember, excitement can only take us so far. What must follow from our excitement is action: consistent, compassionate action that is down-to-earth, face-to-face and practical. Today’s Scripture passage has the powerful possibility to inspire us and move us in love’s direction.

Jesus told the parable of the good samaritan in answer to an interesting question from an expert in the law. By “law”, Luke was referring to the first five books In the Old Testament Scripture, where God gave to Moses and the Israelites laws that build a healthy society under God’s rule. Sometimes these men were called “teachers of the law.” We can assume that this man was well-educated, especially since Luke described him as an expert. This expert asked Jesus a very important question: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” However, the lawyer was not sincere. He “stood up to test [Jesus]” (v. 25). Perhaps the lawyer thought he could outsmart Jesus. As one commentary suggests, however: “If you’re ever going to test Jesus, do it sitting down. You won’t have as far to fall when you fail!”

Have you noticed how often Jesus follows a question with a question? Since the good lawyer undoubtedly knew the law, Jesus turned a question about the law right back to him. “What is written? How do you read it?” Rather than walk into the lawyer’s trap, Jesus invited him to share his interpretation of the law. And the lawyer gave a great answer: he quoted the Shema in Deuteronomy 6:5 and for added punch, Leviticus 19:18. And in verse 28, Jesus confirmed that the lawyer was spot on. “Do this and you will live.”

But he couldn’t, and we can’t either. Jesus’ words imply that if we obey God’s law perfectly we will have eternal life. The problem is, no one can do that. It is humanly impossible for anyone to “do this and live.” Jesus knew that; and so did the lawyer. So, he attempted to rationalize his failure to obey the law perfectly; and I think his trouble was, he knew he fell short with loving his neighbor.

“Wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, ‘Who is my neighbor?” That’s another great question; but I’m wondering if maybe he meant it as rhetorical, not expecting Jesus to answer. Or, was it another trick question. Well, whatever the case, “Jesus took up the question” with a parable; and here’s where we’ll spend the rest of our time.

THE PARABLE OF THE GOOD SAMARITAN

The scene of the story is the road from Jerusalem to Jericho. There are some particularities about the road between Jerusalem and Jericho that drive home the point of this parable with even greater power. To describe them fully, though, we have to understand the climate and terrain of the area. The Mediterranean Sea pushes warm, moist air across Israel until it reaches the elevated ridgeline on which Jerusalem is situated. The range there squeezes all the moisture out of the air, leaving the land to the east of Jerusalem arid. A person walking from Jerusalem to Jericho would be “going down” in elevation and leaving a semi-dry area for a totally barren and parched one. The trip between Jerusalem and Jericho was about 18 miles, and in that distance, travelers would have descended more than half a mile in elevation. The majority of those 18 miles would be in desert-like conditions, as you can see in this photo.

The road between Jerusalem and Jericho was a major thoroughfare for trading caravans, military personnel, and the pilgrims who visited Jerusalem multiple times each year. Given the isolated terrain, people on this road were easy targets for bandits, who would have found ample hiding places and escape routes into the desert where no one would pursue them. When Jesus said that “a man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho” his listeners surely would have recognized the dangers that this journey posed.

A man — no specification, no identification, any man, every man, something that any one of us might experience if we traveled down that road — a man was traveling down that road when what Jesus’ listeners likely expected to happen did happen: he was attacked by bandits, beaten, robbed, stripped of his clothing, and left him to die.

So there’s the problem in the story: a naked, beaten and bloody man, lying on the side of the road. And we’re all wondering if, hoping for, someone to rescue him. What a sad way to die: alone on a desert road.

But wait: the man might be in luck! For here comes a priest, who “just happened” to be going down the same road. “Happened” — meaning, by chance or coincidence. But are we to believe that Jesus intended that meaning, or is he speaking with a bit of sarcasm? Nothing, in God’s world, just happens.

The priest saw the man. In other words, he understood the man’s condition. He didn’t just see him, he observed and perceived that here was a man in critical condition, if not dead. Now, we might ask, what does a priest do? Well, of all the tasks we might list of a priest’s duty, we could summarize with one word: mediate. The purpose of a priest was to mediate God’s Word and God’s blessing to God’s people. Will he do it? We’re on the edge of our seats, waiting to see … and we do see. He passes on down the road on the opposite side. What a cold indifference to the man in the road.

In the Book of James we read, “Indeed, if you fulfill the royal law prescribed in the Scripture, Love your neighbor as yourself, you are doing well.” (James 2:8) In other words, loving our neighbor is not only the right thing to do, it is what is expected of God’s people. A royal law comes from the king, and cannot be changed or altered, not even by the king himself. When the priest appears, Jesus’ listeners expected that the man’s rescue had come. But not in the priest. He disobeyed the royal law of love.

But wait: here comes a Levite. Surely, he’ll remember the royal law and rescue the man. And look, he’s approaching the man, coming closer, investigating the matter. How wonderful … BUT, I can’t believe it; he’s going to the opposite side of the road, just like the priest. That’s cold. He saw closer the man’s need, and just left him there, to die.

Many have suggested reasons why: the priest was headed to Jericho to teach at the synagogue, and if the man was dead, and he touched him … well, he’d be unclean and wouldn’t be able to do his priestly duty. Bad excuse. Not sure that was the case for him or the Levite, who also might have been going to Jericho to serve in the synagogue there. Bottom line: neither one had an excuse. Loving God means loving people. Do they really love God?

I read a story this week that illustrates a different response to the man lying naked and half-dead on the side of the Jericho road.

Although it cost her a cross-country race, 17-year-old Helena Page thought helping someone was more important than winning. Less than half a mile from the finish line, Page saw a fellow runner collapse. Instead of finishing the race, she ran over to check the pulse of her competitor.

Page, a licensed emergency tech, elevated the girl’s legs, checked to see if CPR was required, then took steps to shield her patient from the cold. Stopping during the race meant automatic disqualification for Page, but she stayed with the girl until help arrived. Page, who likes to help people and hopes to become a firefighter, told a local reporter, “I didn’t think it was a big deal. I saw her in distress and I wanted to help. I was trained to do this.”

The priest and the Levite weren’t trained in CPR or emergency medical care, but they were trained in the Scriptures, and should have known better. But what about us? Do we know better? Are we trained to love?

The priest and the Levite are far down the road, and the wounded man is still lying there. But a Samaritan is headed this way. The word “but” implies a contrast, but we shouldn’t get our hopes up: he is a Samaritan. Today, this parable is named “Good Samaritan,” but a “good Samaritan” would have been a contradiction in terms for most Jews of Jesus’s day, because of centuries-long mutual hostility between Jews and Samaritans.

So as the Samaritan sees the man and makes his approach, taking his time to assess the situation, we’re wondering: does he have evil intentions? After all, Samaritans are evil, right? But, what the listeners might have expected to happen — further harm — did not. In fact, what happens next is stunning. Jesus puts an astonishing twist in the story. The Samaritan is good, after all.

Here’s where I want us to pay close attention: Take note of the Samaritan’s movement. All during the story, Jesus has been moving us closer and closer to the wounded man. The priest observed him, the Levite approached him, but watch the Samaritan, and we will be trained to love. This is what Calvary Cares is all about.

First, the Samaritan came closer, and when he saw the wounded man, he had compassion. This is where caring starts: deep empathy for a person in need.

Second, the Samaritan got down in his space, touched him, and bandaged his wounds. These actions are personal. Compassion that doesn’t inspire personal action is just as cold as crossing on the opposite side. Calvary Cares gets personal.

Third, the Samaritan put the man on his donkey and transported him to safety. He had already used his own wine and oil to clean his wounds. Now he sacrifices his comfort by giving up his ride. It probably meant that he also had to carry his bags too. Calvary Cares gets sacrificial. Love is not spoken without giving. Love moves away from us toward another. The cross reminds us of the sacrificial love of Jesus that trains us to love others.

Fourth, the Samaritan took the man to an inn, a place of refuge and rest. He paid for his room and board, and left cash to continue his medical care. And he’s going to check on him when he comes back through. Calvary Cares remembers to follow up. The sacrifice of love continues until the man is healed and returned to community. As best we can, like the Samaritan, we stay with those we love and help. We endure. We persist. We keep loving and giving, until they’re well.

Just a quick side note here. Inns and innkeepers were not held in very high regard. In fact, it was believed that innkeepers were invariably untruthful, dishonest and oppressive. They were regarded as of infamous character. And inns, open to all travelers — Jews, Gentiles, Romans, people of good or ill repute — had become so mistrusted as a safe place by the first century, that Christians began adopting the tradition of “open homes” for travelers. We might adopt the same idea: our homes open to all weary and worn travelers in this world. Isn’t it just like Jesus to use two questionable characters — a Samaritan and an innkeeper — as the heroes of the story? You can be a hero too.

When the story was over, Jesus asked the lawyer another important question: “Which of these three do you think proved to be a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” Hear the lawyer’s answer: “The one” — did you hear that? — the one, not Samaritan, “who showed mercy to him.” He could not bring himself to say, “Samaritan.”

Jesus pushed the point even harder: “Go and do the same.” Do what the Samaritan did. I’ll bet the lawyer and none of those listening to the story every dreamed they’d hear a rabbi tell them to act like a Samaritan; but in this case, the shoe fit.

And now Jesus is telling us the same thing. Calvary Cares means that we do what the Samaritan did. And we need to know what that little word, go, means: it’s not just about movement, but about taking a particular course of action.

I am really excited that we are taking a particular course of action. As stewards of the gospel and all the resources God has given us, we’re going to

move toward people with compassion,

get close enough to make personal contact in order to heal their wounds,

spend ourselves and our resources to transport them to a safe and restful place,

and persistently follow up with them the best we can until they’re well.

Let’s remember what Helena Page said, “I saw her in distress and I wanted to help. I was trained to do this.”

So are we.

COMMUNION

Now, let’s solidy our commitment to loving our neighbors by sharing the Lord’s Table. Though we’re eating and drinking small and personal portions of the elements, they were broken and poured from the same larger portion. These elements remind us that we are one in Christ. His blood, His broken body, His death, and His resurrection make us one. And now He has commissioned us to make others — bloody, broken and dying from sin — our neighbors. We love them into community. So as we drink and eat this morning, we are committing to “go and do the same”; not just like the Samaritan, but like Christ Himself. His heart, expressed through our hands.