Luke 10:25-37
Won’t You Be a Neighbor
James Sledge May
5, 2019
Perhaps
you are familiar with the old, proverbial saying, “Charity begins at home.” Many
assume it is from the Bible, but it’s not. Its first written appearance is in 1600s
England, when the word “charity” was used somewhat differently than today.
In
the old King James Bible, the Apostle Paul’s famous words on love instead speak
of charity. And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three, but the greatest of
these is charity. And so the old proverb’s understanding of charity
would include “Christ-like love.”
Originally,
the proverb spoke of how people learned to be loving and caring by witnessing
such behavior at home. You could say much the same of other behaviors. A strong
work ethic begins at home. Good citizenship begins at home. Love of learning
begins at home, etc.
However,
I typically hear the proverb used quite differently. “Why should our government
send financial aid overseas when there are needy people here? Charity begins at
home.” Here the proverb is taken to set limits on charity. Only after those
close by are cared for should it be extended to others.
I
take it that the lawyer who questions Jesus in our gospel reading would have
used the proverb in this latter fashion. He’s concerned with rules and limits. “What
must I do…?” He’s is an expert
in the Law of Moses, so he knows the answer, easily providing appropriate
scriptures. “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.”
Jesus
is happy to confirm that this is indeed the correct answer, adding, “Do
this, and you will live.” But the lawyer is a “charity begins and ends
at home” sort, and so he wants Jesus to clarify the boundaries, the limits. “And
who is my neighbor?”
If
I have to love my neighbor, I want to know where the neighborhood ends. Is it
people who live on my street? Is it my religious group or church? Is it people
of my race? Is it citizens of my country? Where can I stop, Jesus?
Jesus
doesn’t really answer the question, but he does tell a famous story. It’s a
somewhat troubling parable about what happens to a man who’s been robbed and
left for dead, although some of its more troubling aspects get lost in
translation and its familiarity.
It
starts off simply enough. Some guy was “going down” the road from Jerusalem to
Jericho. “Going down” the road is a key element. Down is the only way you can go from Jerusalem to Jericho, or from
Jerusalem to anywhere for that matter. One always goes up to Jerusalem and down
from it, never the other way round.
Along
the way, this guy is robbed and beaten severely. If someone does not stop to
help, he may well die. Fortunately, the road is well travelled, and before long
a priest and then a Levite come down
the road, down being the operative
word. This parable sometimes gets cast as conflict between religious obligation
and the duty to care for one in need. Becoming religiously unclean through
contact with the fellow might render priest and Levite unable to perform their
duties. Except, they are going down
from Jerusalem, finished with their duties.
If
we want to update the parable, a priest coming home from Mass and a pastor from
church pass by on the other side of the road. We might expect better from
religious leaders, but priest and Levite must think this fellow beyond the
circle of neighbors they’re obliged to help. I can imagine lots of reasons why they
might think this, but the scripture is silent.
Then
a Samaritan happens by. This would not seem to bode well. Jews in Jesus’ day
had little use for Samaritans on both religious and racial grounds. Unlike with
the priest and Levite, there are no obvious, modern day counterparts, but some
Americans might view a Somali Muslim similarly. By that I mean that some
Americans would want to put Muslim Somali refugees outside the circle of those
they must love as they love themselves.
Some
might think the same of a transgender person, or a family fleeing violence in
Honduras. And it might help you get the original sense of the parable if you
substitute the Samaritan with someone from the group you find easiest to
dislike or exclude.
And
so this Samaritan, or your substitute, this person the lawyer likely thought
outside the neighborhood boundaries, ends up rescuing the robbery victim, and
then some. He goes above and beyond, treating him like a beloved member of his
own family.
And then Jesus returns to the lawyer’s
question, well sort of. The lawyer asked, “And who is my neighbor?” but Jesus
inverts it. Who, Jesus asks, “was a neighbor to the man who fell into the
hands of the robbers?” The answer is obvious. “The one who showed him mercy.”
__________________________________________________________________________
All too
often, religion, and life in general, becomes transactional. What must I do in
order to get what I want? Whether I want salvation, a ticket to heaven,
spiritual bliss, happiness, or something else, what are the requirements? How
good must I be? How kind? How hard do I have to work?
But
Jesus rejects transactional religion. Who is my neighbor? Whom must I love?
Jesus’ answer: be a neighbor to whoever needs one.
Imagine
about how different the world would be, imagine how different history would be,
if people actually went with Jesus on this one. Imagine how different my and
your lives would be if we learned to see all people as those who might need us
to be their neighbor.
Over
a long period of study and discernment, the leadership of this congregation has
developed a new missional mandate, along
with new mission priorities and structures to support these. During this spring
(with a break for Palm/Passion Sunday and Easter) the sermon and a presentation
from various church leaders highlights one facet of this Renew process and its
new structures. This means we are not following the usual lectionary scripture
readings. Today’s focus is on Mercy Ministry, one of the new ministry teams of our
new structure.
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