Proper 15, Year C

The Road from Jerusalem to Jericho

Readings: Amos 7:1-17; Psalm 82; Colossians 1:1-14; Luke 10:25-37

A lawyer comes to test Jesus. “What should I do to be saved?” Jesus does not give him the answer. He seldom does. Instead, he turns tables on him, asking him, “What do you think you should do?” The lawyer gives the correct answer. “Love God and love your neighbour.” He knows the law. He says all the right things. He does all the right things. He lives a respectable life. He knows that he cannot be challenged on his knowledge of the law. But he wants to justify his actions, so he asks another trick question, “Who is my neighbour?”

Jesus responds, but not in the way we might expect. He does not argue with him about the law. He does not write a pastoral letter. He does not form a committee to talk about the issue. He does not give a theological reflection on the subject. He tells a story that hits home.

A man travelling from Jerusalem to Jericho is robbed of everything and left for dead. Several people pass by him on that busy road, amongst them a priest and a Levite. Maybe they are in a hurry to reach Jericho before nightfall. Perhaps they fear being made unclean. Or they may fear being attacked themselves. For whatever reason, they don’t stop. But a Samaritan, an outcast of society, does stop. He cannot pass another human being in pain without wanting to relieve that pain. He takes care of the man, binding up his wounds. He takes him to an inn and looks after him as long as he can. He gives the innkeeper enough money to care for the man until he is well. His are not simply band-aid solutions; he accepts the responsibility for this person who is in desperate need.

Jesus asks the lawyer one last question. “Who was a neighbour to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” He knows there is only answer. “Go and do likewise,” Jesus tells him.

I suspect the lawyer was expecting an argument from Jesus, something he could really sink his teeth into. He is a person looking for a debate. And what Jesus gives him is an opportunity to judge himself. Hopefully he discovered that if we are motivated by law rather than love we are robbing others of real justice.

The story of the Good Samaritan is one that we all know only too well. But I wonder, how many of us have truly heard the story? How many of us have found ourselves on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho? What was our response? Did we respond out of love?

In a university course, a teacher once the class if they had ever heard the story of the Good Samaritan. They all looked at her incredulously. Of course they had heard the story. In our society we call people who help other people “Good Samaritans”. But she went on. “I am not asking if you have listened to the story. I am asking if you have ever heard the story.”

One young woman began to sob. “I know exactly what it you mean,” she said. I was just a child of seven at the time. My father was driving me to the beach to join the rest of the family at the start of the summer holidays. As we were driving along the highway my father had a heart attack. He managed to pull the car over to the side of the highway and told me to try to get help. I got out, waved my arms frantically, but no one on that busy highway would stop.”

“After what seems ages, someone finally stopped to find out what was the matter. He alerted the police, but by the time help arrived my father had died. He was only thirty-four years old.”

Those listening to her story vented their anger and resentment at the motorists who passed by, finding it incomprehensible. One person, however, piped up and said, “I can understand it totally.” He related his story.

“One cold winter night, very late, just as I was about to go to bed, there was a knock at my front door. It was a stranger looking for a place to spend the night. He was travelling back to university, had run out of money and was hitch-hiking. It had not gone well. He needed a place to sleep for the night.”

He went on. “I looked him over. He sounded genuine, but I felt angry at him for not being better prepared. I found every reason in the book not to help him. My own safety, his lack of foresight! I closed the door on him. I watched him disappear into the night. I admire the person who acted. He was a real hero. I wish I had.”

A third person began to relate her story. “You don’t feel like a hero when it happens. I was in my apartment one evening when there was a knock on the door. My neighbour from the next apartment was there holding the limp body of her young child. She was hysterical and had no idea what to do. I took the child in my arms, pointed to the phone and told her to call 911. I proceeded to do mouth to mouth on the little one. An ambulance arrived a short time later. One of the attendants said that if I had not acted the child would surely have died. Mother and child were taken to the hospital. She made a full recovery. I was lauded as a hero, but honestly, I just did what I had learned in my First Aid course.”

Who heard the story? They all did.

There have been many stories this past week from the town of Lac Megantic of people who heard the story and responded as neighbour to neighbour. Crisis so often brings out the best in neighbours. But it should not take a crisis.

So the question remains for us; dol we hear the story? What will we do to put Jesus’ vision of justice into practice in our world? How do we offer gestures of kindness to others? This passage is a revealing and judgemental condemnation of much that passes itself as Christian. It makes many professions of faith seem less than authentic. If we take it seriously, we can no longer simply say the right words or belong to the right church. The parable demands that we account for our actions. We cannot say, "I turn to Christ" without making a commitment to love God and to love neighbour.

Who is my neighbour? Is my neighbour the one who lives next door to me? Is it others who are like me, who share my heritage, my interests? The fact is that every human being is my neighbour. It can have nothing to do with colour, background or social status. It cannot have to do with how clean the person is. It cannot have to do with how well they speak. It must simply be the one who needs my help.

Jesus knew what it meant to be a neighbour. He was tortured, stripped and left in a ditch 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 who is our neighbour? Do our actions show that we know? What impact is our congregation having on the community around us? Those are questions we need to be asking.

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."

Let us look in the face of our neighbour and see Christ. Amen.