Luke 10:25-37
Life is messy.
As hard as we try to dot all our “I”s and cross all our “t”s, some things get left undone. As hard as we try to tie up all the loose ends, one of those ends is bound to get away from us. And that’s okay. It’s what makes us human.
The same goes for our spiritual faith. Our spiritual faith is far from neat and tidy. None of us is perfect or complete by any stretch of the imagination. If we are honest with ourselves and others, each of us is a spiritual mess. A messy spirituality is a faith that most of us live but few of us admit. It’s a faith that is unfinished, incomplete and inexperienced. It is a faith that is under construction; a work in progress. It means that following Jesus is anything but neat and tidy; balanced and orderly. Our spiritual walk is complex, complicated and perplexing. Messy spirituality is the disorderly, sloppy, chaotic look of authentic faith in the real world. It does not follow a straight line; it’s mixed up, topsy-turvy, helter-skelter godliness. It turns us upside down for a ride filled with unexpected turns, bumps and even crashes. The good news for us is that Jesus is not turned off by our messiness because Jesus is the one who has messed up and ruined us. Because when you get to know the real Jesus of the Bible, the one who lived and breathed among us, your life will never be the same!
The parable of the Good Samaritan is so well known throughout Christian and secular circles. The Good Samaritan is a secularized saint. There are the “Good Samaritan laws”, for example, to protect individuals who assist a victim during a medical emergency. The law protects them from being liable from injury or death caused to the victim during a medical emergency. There are many hospitals, helping groups and civic awards all named for the Good Samaritan. In the secular world, a good Samaritan is someone who helps once a week at a local soup kitchen or delivers food baskets to the poor at Christmas time or sacrifices several Saturdays for building a Habitat for Humanity home. To the world at large, the good Samaritan is a “do gooder”. There is nothing wrong with this understanding, but it only scratches the surface. There is more to the parable than this. It’s deeper meaning is sharper, more shocking and a daunting challenge to each one of us. Let’s take a closer look at three key areas of the text.
I.
Understanding the scene of this story will help us understand it. The road from Jerusalem to Jericho is no walk in the park. It is a dangerous road. Traveling this road from Jerusalem to Jericho, a mere twenty miles, you descend 3600 feet in elevation. The road is filled with narrow passes, rocky cliffs, and sharp turns which made it an ideal place for robbers and murderers. You didn’t travel this road after dark and expect to make it to your destination.
II.
We must then come to know the characters of the story. There was the traveler. He’s a reckless rebel without a clue. Most people did not travel this road alone because of how dangerous it was. They traveled in groups, in caravans and convoys. There was safety in numbers. This man had no one but himself to blame for the plight in which he found himself.[i]And there was the priest. He didn’t pause for one moment. He didn’t break his stride. He kept on going because according to the Jewish law if you touched a dead body you were considered unclean for seven days (Number 19:11). If he touched him, he could lose his turn for serving in the temple in Jerusalem and he wasn’t going to risk losing that great privilege. It was more important than showing compassion to someone in need.
And there was the Levite. Again, this is a dangerous road filled with the threat of robbers and murderers. They often used decoys to lure innocent travelers into their clutches; one would act hurt or play dead, so when a traveler stopped to help, the others would overpower him. The Levite’s motto essentially was “Safety first”. The Levite is looking out for number one, himself. He would take no risks to help anyone else.
And then there was the Samaritan. For the Jewish audience listening to this parable, they would obviously expect that the evil one has arrived. As you may or may not know there was a great deal of animosity between Jews and Samaritans in Jesus’ day. They did not interact with one another. They did not like each other. They did not play well together. They were enemies of one another.
It appears that the Samaritan of our text was not your average Samaritan. I think it’s fair to say that the innkeeper knew him and trusted him. His credit was good with the innkeeper. There may have been religious differences, but the Samaritan was honest and worthy of trust. I also think it’s fair to say that he alone is prepared to help. He showed the injured man mercy and compassion. He is more concerned with helping others than following the letter of the law. In the end we will be judged not by the creed we hold, but by the life we live.
III.
Every parable has something to teach us. The lawyer of our text knew the answers to his own questions. If he was indeed a strict orthodox Jew, he would have tied onto his wrist little leather boxes which contained key pieces of scripture: Exodus 13, Deuteronomy 6:4-9 and more. The answers to his question could be found in these boxes. The lawyer is working at setting up Jesus for a fall; to discredit him in public. His belief of what a neighbor is limits the scope of the word neighbor to their fellow Jews; gentiles not included.
IV.
So who is my neighbor, Jesus? Jesus’ answer has three parts.First, Jesus commands us to help others, to show compassion, to dare to care, even when those others have brought this trouble upon themselves, just as the traveler had done. This reminds me of an incident over twenty years ago at the UCLA Medical Center in Los Angeles. A thirty-one year old woman, Sophia White, burst into the hospital nursery wielding a .38-caliber handgun. She had come gunning for Elizabeth Staten, a nurse whom she accused of stealing her husband. White fired six shots, hitting Staten in the wrist and stomach. Staten fled the scene and White chased her to the ER, firing one more time. There, with blood on her clothes and a hot gun in her hand, the attacker was met by another nurse, Joan Black, who did the unthinkable. Black walked calmly to the gun-toting woman, hugged her, and spoke comforting words.
The assailant said she didn’t have anything to live for, that Staten had stolen her family.
“You’re in pain,” Black said, “I’m sorry, but everybody has pain in their lives…I understand, and we can work it out.” As they talked, the hospital invader kept her finger on the trigger. Once she began to lift the gun as if to shoot herself. Nurse Black just pushed her arm down and continued to hold her. At last Sophia White gave the gun to the nurse. She was disarmed by a hug. It’s amazing what some compassion can do when you dare to care!
Second, any person of any nation, of any creed, of any orientation, of any religion who is in need is our neighbor. Yes, we must take care of our own with compassion and kindness. But we must also dare to care for others who perhaps are not like us in every way. We must dare to care for each gentle soul misplaced inside a jail; we must dare to care for the refugees on the unarmed road of flight; we must dare to care for the aching souls whose wounds cannot be nursed; for the confused, accused, misused; for the luckless, the abandoned, the forsaken and the outcast.[ii] Our help must be as wide as the love of God.
Albert Einstein once said about compassion that, “Our task must be to widen our circle of compassion, to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.” Philosopher, Physician and Nobel Peace Prize winner Albert Schweitzer also said, “Until he extends his circle of compassion to include all living things, man will not himself find peace.” We must dare to care.
Third, the help we share must be practical and not consist merely in feeling sorry for the person in need. Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once told about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child; the winner was a four-year old boy. His next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife of many years. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the gentleman’s yard, climbed into his lap and just sat there. When his mother asked him what he had said to their neighbor, the little boy said, “Nothing. I just helped him cry.” We must dare to care.
I am confident that the priest and the Levite felt pity for the beaten man along the roadside, although they did nothing about it. The path of compassion and care must be paved with more than just good intentions. Real, authentic compassion and care is based on real action and is fueled by the love of God. We must dare to care.
I believe that true compassion comes from the God in the form of love. I don’t always feel it. I don’t always recognize it. When I feel like I’m not loving or caring, then I have to reach out to Jesus and ask Jesus to speak the words of love that I no longer have the strength to speak. I do it because I believe that this kind of love says that you really matter to me just because you matter to God. It is the clearest expression of the command to love your neighbor as yourself. And, in this day and age, I think it’s the essential picture of compassion. Let’s dare to care, no matter the cost!
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