Tag Archives: Good Samaritan

Sermon – Luke 10.25-37, P10, YC, July 13, 2025

24 Thursday Jul 2025

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I don’t know about you, but gospel readings like the one we heard today immediately put me at ease.  Episcopalians aren’t particularly known for memorizing scripture, but we do know stories.  And the Good Samaritan is definitely one of the stories we know.  We know these stories so well that we sometimes tune out, maybe imagining, like I did, the time when we were kids and the Sunday School teacher had us dress up and act out the story.  And we are not the only ones.  There are whole churches, charitable organizations, nursing homes, and hospitals named after the Good Samaritan.  We love this simple story about how to be like the Good Samaritan and not like the lawyer, priest, or Levite.

The problem with these familiar stories is that our familiarity dilutes the power of the stories – and perhaps our ability to situate ourselves in the characters of the parable.  Some scholars even try to rename this parable to something like, “Jesus and the Lawyer.”[i]  The lawyer is the first person we miss in this narrative.  We know he is trying to trick Jesus, so he must be bad.  We admit he knows the law, or Torah – to love God and love neighbor.  His second question is where the trouble comes.  The lawyer asks, “Who is my neighbor?”  The question seems simple enough, but the trouble comes from what he doesn’t ask, “Who is not my neighbor?  How much love are we talking here, Jesus?  Can you be specific?  Where can I draw the line?  Outside my front door?  At the edges of my neighborhood?  Along the cultural and racial boundaries I was raised with?  I mean, there are lines.  Aren’t there?”[ii]  And before we get too high on our “I know loving neighbors means loving everyone” horse, think about the last time you got angry about politics and what “those people” are doing or saying. 

Our next issue is pointing the finger at the priest and Levite.  I have heard and read all kinds of explanations about why these two men might have walked on the other side of the road from the dying fellow in need of help.  I have heard people explain that priests and Levites must be careful about ritual purity.  I have heard that as religious professionals they were being upper-class snobs.  I have heard they were late to temple, in a rush to do their jobs.  Unfortunately, according to scholars, none of those justifications work.  The purity laws would not have prohibited these guys from helping – from touching, maybe, but not from helping.  And despite being known leaders in communities, the roles of priest and Levite were mostly inherited, and not a vocation like we know now.  And the text tells us the men are walking away from Jerusalem.  They’re definitely not late for work.  The real problem is simple:  the two men simply do “what is all too ordinary:  [they] fail to act when [they] should.”  In fact, both men were required to attend to the fellow in the ditch, dead or alive.[iii]

Martin Luther King, Jr. on the night before his assassination preached about this parable.  He said, “I’m going to tell you what my imagination tells me. It’s possible that those men were afraid….And so the first question that the priest [and] the Levite asked was, ‘If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?’…But then the Good Samaritan came by, and he reversed the question: ‘If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?’”  King went on, “If I do not help the sanitation workers, what will happen to them?”[iv]  The real issue with these two men is they only thought about themselves and failed their neighbor.

Now, the final challenge in the parable is the Samaritan.  We all know him as the “Good Samaritan,” but even that nomenclature is problematic.  You see, Samaritans and Jews experienced a great deal of tension.  They have had a long rivalry about where the proper temple is and who has authority.  Just a chapter before in Luke we read about how the Samaritans do not welcome Jesus and the disciples are ready to rain down fire upon the Samaritans.  This does not necessarily mean Samaritans are less influential or wealthy.  This is a tribal feud – an “us versus them” conflict.  And as much as we might identify with the Good Samaritan as the example we always follow, the truth is the Samaritan is not us.  He is the last person you would think of as the “good guy” in Jesus’ day.  We have to hold on to that reality because anyone hearing Jesus’ parable in his day would have been shocked by the introduction of the Samaritan – especially one who behaves much better than “us.”[v]  Scholar Amy-Jill Levine reminds us of the storytelling “rule of three.”  For anyone hearing Jesus’ story, when he talks about a priest, then a Levite, the hearer would have anticipated an Israelite being the third character in the story.  Levine says, “Instead of the anticipated Israelite, the person who stops to help is a Samaritan.  In modern terms, this would be like going from Larry and Moe to Osama bin Laden.”[vi]

So, to help us hear this familiar parable in a fresh way, I want to turn back to scholar Amy-Jill Levine.  Doctor Levine is a Jewish New Testament scholar – and yes, you heard that right – a devout Jew whose career has been in the study of Jesus.  She retells the parable like this:  “I am an Israeli Jew on my way from Jerusalem to Jericho, and I am attacked by thieves, beaten, stripped, robbed, and left half dead in a ditch.  Two people who should have stopped to help pass me by:  the first, a Jewish medic from the Isreal Defense Forces; the second, a member of the Israel/Palestine Mission Network of the Presbyterian Church U.S.A.  But the person who takes compassion on me and shows me mercy is a Palestinian Muslim whose sympathies lie with Hamas, a political party whose charter not only anticipates Israel’s destruction, but also depicts Jews as subhuman demons responsible for the world’s problems.”[vii]

Before we can be Good Samaritans or Good Hamas Members or Good Jews, Jesus is inviting us to get real clear on who our neighbor is.  As scholar Debie Thomas suggests, “Your neighbor is the one who scandalizes you with compassion…Your neighbor is the one who upends all of your entrenched categories and shocks you with a fresh face of God.  Your neighbor is the one who mercifully steps over the ancient, bloodied line separating ‘us’ from ‘them’ and teaches you the real meaning of ‘Good.’”  What shall I do to inherit eternal life?  Do this.  Do this and you will live.”[viii]

I do not know who you are so deeply in conflict with that you have written them off as unacceptable neighbors.  I do not know whose hand you would recoil from if they extended their hand in help.  I do know who you have deemed unredeemable or unforgivable.  But Jesus’ parable is not a safe, cute parable about how to be a good person.  Today’s parable is an invitation to recognize how deeply difficult loving your neighbor is because the definition of neighbor is uncomfortably expansive with Jesus.  And once you concede this parable of the Good Whomever Makes You the Most Uncomfortable, Jesus invites you to love them anyway.  In the same very way that Jesus loves you – unconditionally, bountifully, and full of mercy and grace.  Amen.

[i] Fred B. Craddock, Luke: Interpretation, A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville:  John Knox Press, 1990), 149.

[ii] Debie Thomas, Into the Mess & Other Jesus Stories:  Reflections of the Life of Christ (Eugene, OR:  Cascade Books, 2022) 126.

[iii] Amy-Jill Levine, Short Stories by Jesus:  The Enigmatic Parables of a Controversial Rabbi (New York:  Harper One, 2014), 98-101

[iv] Levine, 102.

[v] Thomas, 127

[vi] Levine, 103.

[vii] Levine, 114-115.

[viii] Thomas, 128.

Homily – Luke 10:25-37, P10, YC, July 13, 2019

17 Wednesday Jul 2019

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Last Sunday, a group of parishioners gathered to watch Won’t You Be My Neighbor, the documentary about Fred Rogers.  There were countless things I could tell you about this film, but one thing that really grabbed my attention was toward the end.  The film documented a criticism of Mr. Rogers as raising up a generation of people who feel and act entitled.  You see, one of the primary lessons from Mr. Rogers is he loves each individual, just as they are.  No changes are necessary; no fault is too big.  Mr. Rogers loves you just as you are.  You can hear the words of God in Mr. Rogers’ words – God too loves us unconditionally, and certainly loves us better than any human ever could.  However, Mr. Rogers’ critics would argue if everyone is loved just as they are, then surely they do not need to improve, or earn respect, or work hard.  But the film asserts something quite different.  The film asserts without being recipients of unconditional love, individuals cannot be givers of unconditional love.  In other words, to respect the dignity of every human being, one must first learn how sacred one’s own dignity is – one must be shown how she or he is a person with dignity to be respected in order to know how to respect the dignity of others.

That sense of each person having profound, sacred dignity is one of the main lessons of our gospel today.  The Good Samaritan is one of those stories that is so widely known all I need to do is say, “the Good Samaritan,” and we likely already know the story.  We might automatically recall, “Oh, that’s the story Jesus uses to tell us to be like the Good Samaritan – to be kind to others.”  In one sense, our recollection would be true – at the heart of Jesus’ story is a message to be kind to all.  But what that simple summary misses is the finer details to this story.

You see, those two people who separately pass the victim along the road, are a priest and a Levite.  These two people are not just people of faith – they are keepers of the faith.  They know the laws better than most people of faith.  You may have heard over the years the logic that priests or Levites could not risk being defiled by touching the body of the victim, and so that is why they went around the victim.  But the truth is, their avoidance had nothing to do with defilement – they were heading away from the temple and therefore were not in need of ritual purity, and any good priest or Levite knows they were expected to check on this victim; should he be dead, they should help bury him, and should he be alive, they should tend him.[i]  Basically, these are good, trained people of faith, not fulfilling their duty to love their neighbor as themselves.

But perhaps even more significant is the identity of the Samaritan.  The story does not say, a priest and Levite passed, but another faithful Jew came to the victim’s aid.  The story says, a priest and Levite passed, but a man whose people are mortal enemies of people of faith – who has persecuted, defiled, and subjugated people of faith – is the one who helps.  Saying “The Good Samaritan,” is like saying, “The Good Murderer.”[ii]  That this typically hated man is the one who shows mercy, kindness, and love is shocking.  The hearers of Jesus’ story are shocked, and our ears need to be similarly shocked.  Asking us to respect the dignity of every human being is already a monumental task; respecting the dignity of every human being is inconvenient, is humbling, and involves a willingness to be wrong about others.  Respecting the dignity of every human being means being willing to see how the best of the faithful fail at kindness, and how sometimes our worst enemies are better people of faith than we are.

Today we are baptizing a child of God.  Her parents, godmothers, and our community will make promises today – to raise her in the community of faith, to show her to love and respect, to fight for justice and peace, to share the word of God, and to repent when she messes up.  We say those words today as we reaffirm our own baptismal covenants; but sometimes we forget how revolutionary the covenant is.  We are agreeing to teach Selah to live a revolutionary life.  When we say we will teach baby Selah to respect the dignity of every human being, we are saying we will teach her the hard work being inconvenienced and humbled in order to care for others.  When we say we will teach her to love her neighbor as herself, we are saying we will teach her that even her greatest enemies are worthy of love.  When we say we will teach her to repent when she sins, we are saying we will teach her to be willing to admit when people who we have deemed unworthy of love and care show us what true kindness really looks like.

Today, when we hear Christ’s words to “go and do likewise,” we can be encouraged that Jesus empowers us to make some promises.  Today we look at Selah’s precious, innocent face, and we promise to walk with her as she discovers how hard this work of being a faithful follower of Christ really is.  Today, we promise to confess to Selah the times when we have failed to love our neighbors as ourselves.  Today, we promise when those we despise, those who hurt us, those we cast out because they are not like us, those we can no longer see humanity in ask us, “Won’t you be my neighbor,” we will say with Selah, “Yes.  You are my neighbor too.”  Amen.

[i] Amy-Jill Levine, Short Stories by Jesus (New York:  Harper One, 2014), 99-102.

[ii] Levine, 105.

Sermon – Luke 10.25-37, P10, YC, July 14, 2013

17 Wednesday Jul 2013

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Lisa had produced lots of stories like this over the last ten years.  They were human-interest stories for ESPN – the stories that drew people into the private pain and sacred celebrations behind their beloved sports.  Lisa loved her work, but she had never gotten as involved as she did four years ago.  In 2009 she met Leroy and Dartanyon – two high school wrestlers from a poor Cleveland school who were fighting against all odds.  Dartanyon was homeless and legally blind and Leroy had lost parts of both legs in a train accident.  Dartanyon often carried Leroy to classes up stairs, while Leroy helped Dartanyon with his homework.  Their story was so potent for Lisa that she could not walk away.  Over the course of four years, she would find herself doing everything from helping Dartanyon obtain his birth certificate, to ensuring they had food everyday; from helping them fill out financial aid forms for college, to connecting Dartanyon to a Paralympic coach.

When I saw Lisa’s story this week, I could not help but to think about the Good Samaritan from the gospel lesson today.  Most of us know this story well, and pretty much all of us want to strive to be a Good Samaritan; so much so that we spend time volunteering, we give money to aid important causes, and we even occasionally give a dollar to that guy on the corner.  But what struck me this week about the story of the Good Samaritan is that we often simplify the example of the Samaritan. We read this story and we know that we should not be like the lawyer or the priest or the Levite.  We should help others like the Samaritan.  The problem though with this simplified response to Jesus’ command to “Go and do likewise,” is that we skim over all the work the Samaritan did.  The text says the Samaritan, “went to [the victim] and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them.  Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him.  The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.’”

Several things strike me about this account.  First of all, there is a longevity to the care of the Samaritan.  The Samaritan does not simply give the man some bandages, or a cloak, or even some money, and then leave.  The Samaritan does not simply help the man to a local hospital or inn and then carry on with his life.  The Samaritan does not even care for the man overnight, and then depart, having certainly done his duty.  No, the Samaritan even pays for the man to stay and promises to return and pay for whatever else is due.  This is not a one-time exchange, or even a short-term exchange.  This exchange is a commitment to the long haul – a dedication not just to help but to be in relationship.  This is what Jesus means when he says we are to “go and do likewise.”

What is tricky about this kind of relationship is that this kind of relationship is messy.  Though there is some debate among scholars, many seem to think that the victim on the side of the road was a Jew.[i]  So not only was this victim beaten, robbed, and abandoned by those who should have cared for the victim, he was helped and tended to by a Samaritan – a man who was his enemy.  The Jews and Samaritans had a long-standing conflict.  The Jews had a very low opinion of the Samaritans.  Samaritans were seen as second-class citizens to be avoided at all costs.  So imagine when the victim woke up at that inn to find a Samaritan nursing him back to health.

Not to mention how complicated this is for the Samaritan.  He knows how most Jews feel about him.  He may have even felt the same way about the Jewish people.  But somehow, his sense of pity gets the best of him, and he finds himself not just asking if the guy is okay, but spending his time and resources on this complete stranger who is his enemy as well.  This encounter between these two men is not simply a one-way, clean exchange of helper and helped.  This is a messy encounter that leaves the two in a strange relationship that can only be possible through God’s grace.  Whatever biases the Jew had against Samaritans had to have been called into question that next morning.  Hatred of another cannot remain when one is the recipient of love as deep as the Samaritan shows.  And whatever biases the Samaritan had against Jews had to have weakened that day too.  You cannot dress a man’s wounds, care for him overnight, and return to check in on him without some of your defenses coming down.  The kind of neighborliness that Jesus is inviting people into is messy, complicated, and a bit scary.

Lisa, Leroy, and Dartanyon knew a little about this kind of messiness.  Dartanyon and Leroy not only faced the challenges of their own physical limitations, they also lived in a world of struggle.  Their school was a school marked by violence and active police presence.  Books were handed out and locked back up after each class.  Less than forty percent would ever graduate and untold numbers were left pregnant.  And white people were not necessarily seen as allies.  Meanwhile, Lisa had grown up on the other side of Cleveland.  Her parents scraped together money just so that she would not have to go to school with those her parents would call, “those people.”  Lisa and Leroy and Dartanyon grew up knowing each other as “the other,” and any attempt at a relationship brought these biases, baggage, and burdens to the foreground.

The funny thing is that when we read our gospel lesson day, we can feel that Jesus is scolding the lawyer in some way.  But I think what is actually happening here is a bit of healthy challenge.  Jesus fully admits that if the lawyer simply does what the law calls for:  to love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself – then the lawyer will be fine.  Jesus is saying that even the slightest effort of loving God and loving neighbor is good and to be commended.  But in the story of the Good Samaritan, Jesus is hinting to the lawyer that there is a potential for more – a potential to know God more fully and to love more deeply than he could even imagine is possible.  And that kind of amped up grace and blessing can only come from messy, complicated, scary relationships with the other.

Recently, while Lisa, Leroy, and Dartanyon prepared for a follow-up story with ESPN, Dartanyon quietly asked Lisa the question that probably many others had wondered about but never asked.  “Why did you stay?”  Lisa’s response was automatic.  “I love you,” she answered.  “That’s what I thought you’d say,” he replied.  “But … why … why did you stick around and do everything you did?”  Lisa’s response was long and complicated because their relationship was messy, complicated, and at times maybe even scary.  But after much reflection, Lisa concludes, “I stayed because we can change the world only when we enter into another’s world.”[ii]  Though I have no idea whether Lisa is a person of faith, Lisa is preaching Jesus’ words today with her life.  She understands that being neighbors means not just helping people, but entering into their lives, and taking on whatever messiness that involves – because only then can we know the kind of love Jesus has for us.  In that sacred, vulnerable, tenuous reality that is relationship with the other is where we experience Jesus and the love Jesus has for all of us – even those we might label as the other.  Jesus knows how hard this will be.  But Jesus tells us to “Go and do likewise,” anyway because Jesus knows that we can.  Amen.

[i] Matthew L. Skinner, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 3 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 241.

[ii] Lisa M. Fenn, “‘Carry On’: Why I Stayed,” as found on http://espn.go.com/espn/otl/story/_/id/9454322/why-stayed on July 9, 2013.