Pentecost 5 (Proper 10C)

Text: 36 Which of these three, do you think, proved to be a neighbor to the man who fell among the robbers?” 37 He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” And Jesus said to him, “You go, and do likewise.”

On a couple of occasions, I’ve touched on the question of where we can and where we can not put ourselves into scripture. Modern Christians have created this unusual way of reading scripture where we simply make things about us. And so we turn the account of David and Goliath, for example, into a lesson in how we can overcome the obstacles in our lives.

The problem is: that’s a really dangerous way of reading scripture. You end up drawing lessons from it that just aren’t true. You end up putting words in God’s mouth, claiming promises for yourself that He never made. The term that has been developed for it is “narcigesis.” There is a term, ‘exegesis,’ that describes the process of drawing out the intended meaning of scripture. This is the opposite. It’s narcissistically reading yourself into scripture.

And yet, this parable was told specifically so that this lawyer could see and understand something about himself. So let’s simply wrestle with the question of where he— and you and me, by extension— can and should see ourselves in this parable. In this case, you can actually go further than you might think.

Priest/Levite or Samaritan?

Jesus told this parable in response to a lawyer’s question: “who is my neighbor?” (v. 29). Luke tells us that the man was “desiring to justify himself” with this question. He knew that God’s Law said He had to love his neighbor. He was trying to clarify who he had to love so that he also knew who he could ignore.

The lawyer’s question: God couldn’t expect him to love everyone, could He?

Jesus puts a picture in front of him in order to answer his question. What Jesus wants the man to see is the contrast between the priest/levite and the samaritan. The message is fairly straightforward: the compassion of the samaritan highlights the lack of love from the priest and Levite.

To our credit, you and I get this part of the parable rather easily. You see in the priest and Levite all the times that you’ve made excuses to pass by people in need. You see in the Samaritan the compassion you should have showed but didn’t. You see yourself in them, but do you see yourself clearly?

When we hear this parable, it’s very easy for you and I to do exactly what the lawyer was trying to do: justify ourselves. As you heard this parable read a few minutes ago, how many of you silently patted yourself on the back for the clothing and other items you donated to help the refugees in Ukraine? Without a doubt, it was amazing to hear about how that all came together and how God opened doors to get it to those who needed it.

At the same time, how often have you come up with excuses rather than showing compassion for others? How often have you justified ignoring the pleas of the single mother because it was her decision that got her there? I get that the actual ‘nuts and bolts’ of helping someone can be very difficult. That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the times that we justify doing nothing because the person brought it on themselves? How many in our community are suffering or struggling and we justify ignoring them because they’re not part of us?

You know that the priest and Levite represent you, but do you really see it?

Are You the Robbers?

And we do need to go a step further. Let’s be honest. If you and I were only guilty of walking by on the other side of the road, so to speak, that wouldn’t be so bad. Let me say it better. It would be bad. But it would be better than the reality. The reality is that you and I are also the robbers who beat one another up and leave them for dead.

“[W]e have attacked those who angered us, we have stolen what we craved, we have lacerated others with our razor-sharp tongues” (Bird, Chad. Facebook Post, July 5, 2022, 3:03 p.m. https://www.facebook.com/writingsofchadbird/posts/582674776561582).

If it were just that you had failed to help those who had been harmed by others, that would be bad enough. But you’ve done a fair amount of the damage yourself.

Not only do you and I need to see ourselves in the priest, you also need to see yourself in the robbers, as well.

Your Good Samaritan

There’s another place that you can and should see yourself, though. And it’s a place that you probably would not expect. For all of our tendencies to put ourselves into different texts of scripture, you know that, in this parable, you are not the Samaritan. But there is someone else in this parable that does represent you.

You’re the traveller who was robbed and left for dead.

In fact, you weren’t just left half-dead. You were dead in your trespasses and sins in which you once walked. You were set upon by the devil, the world, and your own sinful flesh who turned God’s good Law into a weapon to bring you death. You were hopeless and helpless. And, thankfully, God is who He is— a God of deep compassion and love— and the Son of God took on human flesh in order to be your Good Samaritan. He allowed Himself to be handed over to those robbers, but His death was, itself, the greatest act of compassion. Through it, He gives you life.

He has washed your wounds with the healing water of baptism, giving you eternal life.

He pays for your care, not with two denarii— as precious a price as that was— but with His holy, precious, blood and with His innocent suffering and death. “5 …[W]hen [you] were dead in [y]our trespasses, [He] made [you] alive …6 and raised [you] up with him and seated [you] with him in the heavenly places… 7so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus” (Ephesians 2:5-7).

He has gathered you into the safety of His Church, instructing that you continue to be cared for as the healing oil of His word is poured into your hearts and as you are fed, week after week, with His body and blood which are the very medicine of immortality.

Other Good Samaritans?

And there is one last step that we can go.

As a result of what He’s done, you are also a good samaritan.

Think about the connection to what we’ve been talking about the last two weeks. Two weeks ago we focused on the fact that Jesus has called you as His disciples. You were called by a Savior who didn’t wait for you to put temptation and/or love for this world behind you, but purchased and won you with His blood (giving you the ability to put away the desires of the sinful flesh and walk by the Spirit).

Last week, we focused on Jesus— the Great Apostle, the ultimate “Sent One” who sends disciples, not to call down the fire of judgment upon those who rejects the message, or even to revel in the spiritual authority given to you, but to gently restore those caught in transgressions (Gal. 6:1) in the assurance that your name is written in heaven.

Today we shift the language a little bit from ‘disciple’ to ‘samaritan’ . But the point is the same.

He has sent you out into this world. As you go, you will pass many who have been set upon by the devil, the world, and other people.

You have the opportunity to bind up the wounds of those you encounter along the road of this life with the same grace and forgiveness that healed you.

As you go, you are now impervious, by the way, to the enemies who would still try to kill you.

Your calling as a disciple gives you the ability to put off the sinful desires of the flesh and walk in the Spirit given to you in baptism.

The devil and this world have no power over you because your Good Samaritan has left them for dead at the foot of His cross.

If you’ll excuse the mixed metaphor, we can also say that He has made you “a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light” (1 Peter 2:9)— both by your words of praise for all that God is and does and by your deeds, by being a people who are set apart to show people with your actions what a compassionate, loving God we have.

The care and compassion that you stop to offer along the way is not, in any way, a distraction from your service to God. It is your “spiritual act of worship” (Romans 12:1; Hebrews 12:28).

Those are sacrifices you have been called to offer. They are most certainly holy and pleasing to God (Hebrews 13:16).

We can put ourselves in every single part of this parable. It condemns you and me for all of the times you have been the pious religious folk who walk past on the other side of the road. It condemns you for all of the times you have been the thugs who beat up your neighbor and left him for dead. In other words, you are the man, set upon and left for dead by the devil, the world, and our own sinful flesh. Your Good Samaritan has washed and bound up your wounds, bringing you from death to eternal life. He has gathered you safely within the care of His Church and instructed that you be nourished with His Word and with the medicine of immortality that you eat and drink from this altar. And yes, He now sends you out as a good samaritan— now impervious to the enemies who would try to kill you (cf. Psalm 41)— to bind up the wounds of those you meet, carrying them to Him to be healed. Or, if you prefer, He anoints you as a royal priesthood. And caring for your neighbor is not a distraction from service to God. It is your spiritual act of worship (cf. Leviticus 19).