This story isn’t about the lack of action by the priest and the Levite – rather, it’s meant to help us broaden our understanding of neighbor. Particularly if we’re the guy in the ditch.
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Luke 10:25-37
25Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” 26He said to him, “What is written in the law? What do you read there?” 27He answered, “You shall 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.” 28And he said to him, “You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.” 29But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” 30Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. 31Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. 32So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. 33But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. 34He went to him 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. 35The 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.’ 36Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” 37He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”
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Dear people of God, grace to you and peace this day from our loving God through Christ who bids us to go and do likewise. Amen.
This Parable of the Good Samaritan is right up there with the Parable of the Prodigal Son in terms of the Big (albeit short) Stories of Jesus. Even if you’ve never been in a church, you’ve probably heard some variation of one or both of these stories.
Now I’ve always heard the story of the Good Samaritan explained like this: the priest and the levite who passed by the man are supposedly passing by him so that they don’t become ritually unclean. The third man stops, and because he is a Samaritan, he has no worry about such cleanliness.
But I’ve been reading some wonderful words of the theologian Amy-Jill Levine. She is a Jewish New Testament scholar. Now that may sound a little odd, but I commend her work to you. It is really amazing.
Ms. Levine points out that the priest and Levite were going along the road to Jericho, not Jerusalem. So they weren’t going to perform priestly duties or anything of the kind. Becoming ritually unclean wasn’t at issue. Furthermore, she says, “Jews would have expected fellow Jews to attend not only to victims of attack, but to unburied corpses.”
But the real transformative words that she brings to this text are that Jesus intends for us to hear this story focused not on the priest and the Levite, but on the Samaritan as well as the man who was beaten by robbers. Here’s why.
To the man in the ditch, the Samaritan is basically his worst enemy. This man has been taught from early childhood to hate Samaritans. Samaritans and Israelites don’t get along. Kind of like the Hatfields and the McCoys.
So for us today, look at it from that perspective: it’s your mortal enemy that’s approaching you when you’re in need. Is he going to kill you or help you?
Those of you who are musical theater lovers might remember the song from the musical South Pacific called “You’ve Got To Be Taught.” It is sung by Lieutenant Ccable when he realizes that as much as he loves the Tonkinese girl Liat, he could not possibly marry her and bring her back to his Midwestern hometown. To be blunt: she would not be safe, not at all. He can’t bring himself to subject this woman he loves so much to such hatred.
With no small amount of bitterness, he sings: you’ve got to be taught to hate and fear/ you’ve got to be taught from year to year/ it’s got to be drummed in your dear little ear/ you’ve got to be carefully taught. You’ve got to be taught before it’s too late/ before you are six or seven or eight/ to hate all the people your relatives hate/ You’ve got to be carefully taught.
I should note that Oscar Hammerstein II wrote those lyrics for a musical that premiered in 1949. It won the Pulitzer Prize, but its creators also endured quite a lot of backlash because of that song, and for the shows willingness to confront issues of race.
So considering our gospel lesson, Amy Jill Levine points out that Jesus uses this story to teach people about the -isms of their time. Certainly the way they treated Samaritans was a form of racism.
Doesn’t this perspective place this gospel story squarely into the category of teaching against? And not just teaching against racism, but against sexism? Homophobia? Against all the other -isms that hold us back from truly realizing the reign of God?
The idea of being confronted with one’s “mortal enemy “ who has come to help brings to mind that distrust of Samaritans was taught, it was part of the culture of the community. Isn’t Jesus confronting the institutionalized racism of his day in the telling of this parable?
It’s not about those who passed by. It’s about the one who stopped to help, the breaking down of barriers to connecting with people, especially those labeled as “the other.”
Put yourself in the place of the injured man for a moment. You are injured and hurting, and you hear people pass by you as if you didn’t exist. Then someone comes alongside you and begins to help you. You look up – and it’s the very last person you could ever imagine, or even stand, to be helping you.
And this person does far more than just say “I’ll call the police.” This person brings a first aid kit from their car and begins to treat your wounds. Once the paramedics arrive, this person goes with you to the emergency room and makes sure that the intake desk knows that they are to bill all costs to them, not you.
And a few days later, when you are on another floor recovering, this person stops by the hospital to visit you and make sure you are going to be ok.
This person – that you thought you hated.
This is a theme that makes for extraordinary cinema. I’m thinking of the movie Philadelphia, where Denzel Washington’s journey from homophobe to ally is traced as he represents his gay client who was fired for having AIDS.
And the movie “As Good As It Gets” where Jack Nicholson, in peak obnoxious form, plays a character who is truly despicable – but who is somehow moved to care for his gay neighbor who is beaten up, and provide top-level medical care for the child of a waitress at the diner he frequents. These actions begin a journey of his transformation.
I agree with Amy-Jill Levine. I do think this is what Jesus is teaching here: that when we continue to perpetuate the biases, the bigotry and hatred we’ve been taught, we stand in the way of God. But when we release all of those things, when we step out of our comfort zones and into the places where we must rely on God, then things will happen. The Spirit’s winds will blow.
In our story, Jesus asks the lawyer “who was neighbor to the man?” And the lawyer responds “the one who showed him mercy.”
The one he’d been taught to hate.
THAT guy.
I like to imagine what the ensuing years may have held for this man and this Samaritan traveler. That they may have become good friends, regardless of how that might have gone over with their communities.
And I’m reminded of a gentleman in the church I served before I came to Shepherd of the Hills.
I was serving a six-month “bridge” pastorate, between the interim and the called pastor. The church was in a suburb of Los Angeles, and many of the members had been employed in aerospace when the Space Race was on. They were experiencing the same challenges as so many churches, of dwindling attendance and a sense of loss of what they were all those years ago.
I was warned by the office administrator about this one gentleman – that he was opinionated and difficult. My job as bridge pastor was to hold things in place, not to blow it all up. So I tried to get to know folks – but at the same time, I structured my sermons so that the gospel story asked questions of us.
A few Sundays after I started, this gentleman – Steve – came up to me after worship and said, “Well – I don’t think I agree with you, but you make me think. So – thanks.” And he walked off.
But the Spirit had begun her always-amazing work.
At one point, I mentioned my son Tim, serving in the Army. Steve figured I couldn’t be too bad if my son was in the Army.
Some discussions during coffee hour after church went well.
And as I think about it now, what I did was listen, and ground everything that could be labeled “social justice” in Jesus’ words. That helped immensely.
Steve was the polar opposite of me in terms of politics and many other things. But he loved Jesus, and he loved his church. And he was willing to listen to new ideas even if it made him uncomfortable, because he found it hard to argue with Jesus.
On the day the congregation came to a decision on the pastor they would call, Steve came over afterwards and gave me a hug. “I’ll miss you,” he said. And it was then I noticed the tears in his eyes.
To this day, I am incredibly thankful that God steered me in a direction that allowed Steve and I to become friends. Had either of us stuck to our guns, it never would have happened.
And this is what Jesus is telling everyone in this story.
All these barriers you’ve made, he says – break them down. Kick them over. Every person is just trying to get through the day.
It’s like the bumper sticker says: everyone is carrying a burden. Be kind.
There is a wonderful movie called Chocolat from some years ago that explores this whole idea of who is acceptable, and who is not. Most of the film takes place during Lent in a small French town, and it follows the townspeople as they are liberated from what holds them back and find their way into living fully and completely. I won’t give you any spoilers, but I will say if you’ve not seen it, you can watch it on Amazon Prime Video. And you SHOULD. It’s a wonderful movie.
As the action moves to Easter, much transformation in the folks in the town has taken place. And the priest says this in his Easter sermon:
“I want to talk about Christ’s humanity, I mean how he lived his life on earth: his kindness, his tolerance. We must measure our goodness, not by what we don’t do, what we deny ourselves, what we resist, or who we exclude. Instead, we should measure ourselves by what we embrace, what we create, and who we include.”
That is what Jesus is saying in this story. If you must measure, then measure by what you embrace, what you create, and who you include.
For that is the way of Jesus. Amen.
Light from the Gorge 