The Sixth Sunday after Pentecost
July 15, 2001

By
The Rev. Ann M. Smith

The story in today's gospel is one we all know – the parable of the Good Samaritan. It is a story known not only in Christian circles, but in the secular world as well. A man was travelling from Jerusalem to Jericho. He was robbed, beaten and left for dead. A priest and a Levite both chanced by him on the road. Not willing to take a chance they passed by on the other side. It was the prudent thing to do. After all sometimes robbers left an injured person as a trap for the next traveller. Besides, they were on their way to the temple. By touching him they took the chance of contaminating themselves. But then a Samaritan, an outcast of society, chanced by. He not only stopped and helped. He took him to an inn and arranged for his care until he could get back.

So let me ask you something. How many of you have found yourselves on that road from Jerusalem to Jericho? It happens to us in everyday life, after all. We read such stories all the time in the news. There is the story of the seven-year-old who was in the car with his dad. They were going up to the cottage to join the rest of the family. It was a holiday weekend with the usual heavy traffic. His father suddenly had a heart attack. He managed to pull the car over to the side of the road where he switched off the engine. He asked his son to try to stop a car and get help. The little boy got out of the car, waved his arms frantically at the passing vehicles, shouting "Help!" as loudly as he could. No one stopped. Finally a man pulled over and alerted the police. But by the time help arrived his father had died.

It seems incomprehensible, doesn't it, that no one would stop to help a little boy. Or does it. Suppose that one day you go to coffee hour. There is a newcomer at church. She has a thick Scottish accent. You talk to her for a few minutes. She tells you her plight. She was on her way to visit some friends in the United States. The plane landed in Canada. She had to go through immigration. They discovered that she did not have a visa. They told her that she would have to go to the American Consulate and apply. Being a long weekend the Consulate is not open. She must wait until Tuesday. Already after two days in Toronto she has run out of money. She came to church hoping that she might meet someone who would help her. You think about it, but then you begin to feel a little angry. Why hadn't she planned things better? Why had she chosen to talk to you? What do you really know about her? Why would you take a chance? You already know that you will leave her standing there. You know that all the reasons you have lined up for refusing to help her are nothing but shabby excuses. The real reason is that you just are not willing to put yourself out for her.

Happily by the time you are ready to leave church she is talking to someone else. And yes! She is leaving with her. Yet it continues to bother you! Why should you feel guilty about not helping her? You're not a hero. But you know! It isn't about being a hero. When a situation arises you either respond or you don’t.

A young man was riding his bicycle home one evening along the river. He heard someone shouting for help. Without stopping to think about what he was doing he threw off his coat and shoes and dived in to the water after the drowning person. After making a couple of dives he managed to find him and brought him up to the surface. By this time a crowd had gathered on the shore and someone tossed him a life preserver. They dragged the two of them in to shore. An ambulance arrived on the scene. Soon it was on its way to the hospital. The young man learned that the person he saved was released, apparently none the worse for his ordeal.

These are all true stories. They are all Good Samaritan stories in one way or another. Each on presents an opportunity to respond with compassion to someone in need. In each case there is some justification for not helping just as there was in the story as Jesus told it. The situation is not cut and dried. Jesus told the parable in response to a lawyer who was questioning him. "What must I do to inherit eternal life?" The question was confrontational. The lawyer knew the law. He didn’t need to ask. His plan was simply to entrap Jesus. But Jesus turned the tables on him.

"What is written in the law?" Jesus asks him.

He answers. "Love God. Love your neighbour."

"Do this and you shall live," Jesus tells him.

The lawyer is unwilling to drop the subject. "Who is my neighbour?"

Jesus responds with the story. He wants the lawyer to know that the requirements to inherit eternal life go beyond the law. Knowing the law is not enough. Living according to the law is not enough. He can live a good life. He can do everything that is prescribed by law. Or he can live according to the Spirit. Living by the Spirit will open up a whole new way of being.

Jesus' doctrine of love demands that the lawyer accept the Samaritan as a neighbour. For a Jew of Jesus' time even to put the two words 'good' and 'Samaritan' together in the same sentence was a stretch. They did not consider the Samaritans to be "good" people. They considered their worship to be heretical. The breach between the Jews and Samaritans went as deep as any controversy could go. Jesus' story is a revealing condemnation of the moral code of the lawyer who followed the letter of the law, but lacked compassion.

In fact, the parable is a revealing and judgemental condemnation of much that goes on under the name of Christianity. It is not enough to give lip service to the faith. It is not enough to say the right words and belong to the right church. We need to live our faith authentically. Salvation comes from God as a gift of love, a free gift of God's grace. It is not enough for me to say, "I love you Jesus" without showing it by totally changing my life. The only way I can make my relationship with God a right one is to commit myself to the needs of my neighbour.

We ask Jesus, "Who is my neighbour?" Jesus knows that one cannot define a neighbour; one can only be a neighbour. And so there are many questions left for us to answer. What did the lawyer do when Jesus stopped talking? Did he simply go on with his life convinced that he was fulfilling the legalities of his faith? Or did it cause him to consider his moral responsibility for the poor and those in need? How did the Jew in the ditch feel when he awakened in the inn and found out who had helped him? Did it transform his life? Did he see his neediness and become the wounded healer? What did the Good Samaritan do when he returned to the inn? But most of all, what are we going to do in response to the story?

Jesus' responded. He was tortured, stripped and left on a cross to die. Do we bear the marks of the wounded Christ in our lives? Are we neighbours to the wounded in our society? Those wounded by life. Those burdened with cares, poverty, sickness and despair? Do we know the answer to Jesus' question, "Who is my neighbour?

A teacher once asked his pupils, "How do you know when night ends and day begins?"

One student answered, "You know that night ends and day begins when you can look into the distance and know which animal is your dog, and which is your sheep."

"That is a good answer," the teacher said, "but it is not my answer."

"You know that night ends and day begins," another student said, "when light falls on the leaves and you can see whether it is a maple or an oak."

"That too is a good answer," the teacher said, "but it is not my answer."

"What is you answer, teacher?" they asked.

"When you look into the eyes of a human being and see a brother or sister you know that it is morning. If you cannot see a sister or brother you will know that it will always be night."