by Dave Wilkinson

Luke l0:25-37

November 24, 2003

A man bought a new television and satellite dish. The neighbors gathered the Saturday before Christmas to help put up the dish. Since they had only simple tools they were making little headway until a man who was new on the block appeared with an elaborate tool box which contained everything needed to put up the dish in record time.

The man writes: "As we stood around congratulating ourselves on this piece of good luck, we asked our new neighbor what he made with such fancy tools. Looking at us all, he smiled and answered: "friends, mostly."

This morning we are looking at a man who knew how to make friends.

I'm not going to go into a whole lot of detail on why Jews hated Samaritans and why Samaritans hated Jews. Trust me. They did. Or if you don't want to take my word for it, I'll tell you after the service. I don't mind telling you, but now we've got to get on with the story.

When Jesus utters the phrase, "but a certain Samaritan..." I am sure that his Jewish listeners are startled. A Samaritan?!? Jews had no dealings with Samaritans. In his daily morning prayer the proud Pharisee thanked God that he had not been born a woman, a gentile or a Samaritan. Some Pharisees prayed that Samaritans be excluded from the resurrection. A Gentile could become a convert to Judaism, but a Samaritan could not. Remember how James and John wanted to call heavenly fire to consume a village of Samaritans when they refused them hospitality?

But because of this one story, the word Samaritan has become a beloved word in the history of the world. Jesus glorifies a name that the lawyer who started this whole discussion won't even repeat at the end of the parable. When Jesus asks, "who proved to be a neighbor to this man?" The lawyer replies, "the one who helped him." he won't even say "Samaritan."

The last person you would expect to be the hero of a Jewish story would be a Samaritan. Yet this is the person Jesus selects for His parable.

So the bomb goes off in the middle of the story. If Jesus had told of a good Jew who helps a wounded Samaritan, that could have been absorbed. But the story tells is of a good Samaritan who helps a wounded Jew.

The Samaritan does not permit racial or religious barriers to hinder him from helping the victim. Whether the victim would have protested or not, we don't know. When you are half-dead you forget your prejudices in a hurry. But the Samaritan does not use his experience of the collective prejudice of a people as an excuse to do nothing. He dares to act for a wounded individual as a concerned individual.

Look at the elements that are involved in his ministry to the victim.

First, Jesus says, he "felt compassion." This is much more than a twinge of passing pity. The Greek word carries the idea of the inner being deeply moved and stirred. It is the word used to describe the response of Jesus when He saw the people as "sheep without a shepherd." This is the response that moves us to forget ourselves and serve others.

Second, the Samaritan made contact. He could have excused himself by saying, "those robbers may still be in the area. Perhaps they are using him as a decoy. I'd better steer clear." Or he might have told himself that the man was too far gone -- that there was nothing he could do. But he does not try to evade the situation that unexpectedly confronts him on the road. The Priest and the Levite are unwilling to make contact with the wounded man, but the Samaritan does.

Third, the Samaritan extends care. He doesn't stop with compassion and contact. He does something practical. The Samaritan cleanses the victim's wounds. Then he soothes the pain with olive oil. He binds up the wounds so they can begin to heal. He then takes the man to an inn for further care and promises to return.

The lawyer who started the whole parable with his question, "who is my neighbor?" is willing to talk but unwilling to act. The Samaritan is willing to act, even though he takes his own life in his hands to help this wounded man. Taking the victim to an inn puts the Samaritan in a very dangerous position. He might be beaten and even killed by the infuriated countrymen of the wounded man. The Samaritan is the Indian who brings the wounded cowboy into Dodge City in 1867. He risks his own life to give life to another.

The wounded man is too weak to walk so the Samaritan walks while the wounded man rides. He brings him to an inn where he continues to care for him. He didn't see his duty as done when he turns the wounded man over to his own people. He continues to minister.

He continues his kindness even when he has to leave. He gives the inn-keeper enough money for about two months room and board for the wounded man and promises to pay anything else that is spent for his care when he returns.

Jesus paints a beautiful picture of a man who far exceeds the relationship minimum. He sees a person in need and does all that he can. Look at how he interrupts his schedule. Does he, perhaps, lose a business opportunity because of this? Is he late for an important appointment? Jesus doesn't say. But we do know that here is a man who is willing to give time to a needy stranger. What does he have to gain from all this personally? Nothing.

Now it is interesting that for the lawyer, the question "who is my neighbor" is a question about a noun. He wants Jesus to define the noun "neighbor" as it appears in the Levitical text, "you shall love your neighbor as yourself." Who is the neighbor that we are to love as ourselves? It becomes a very complex issue.

With their passion for definition, the rabbis sought to define who a person’s neighbor is. At their worst, they confine the word "neighbor" to their fellow Jews. For instance, some rabbis said that it was illegal to help a gentile woman in childbirth because that only meant helping to bring another gentile into the world. The lawyer wants Jesus to give him his opinion on this question. Where are the lines defining "neighbor" to be drawn?

Jesus decides to answer by not answering. He is asked a seemingly simple question about a noun and he answers by turning the noun into a verb. The lawyer asks, "who is my neighbor?" and Jesus asks "who neighbored the man who fell among thieves?" The lawyer gives the right answer even though he can't bear to say the name. And Jesus ends the discussion with a last sentence for which there is no comeback. Jesus says to the lawyer, "go and do likewise."

Now if the lawyer was uptight when he starts the conversation with Jesus, I think he is really discouraged when he finishes because Jesus puts something on his shoulders that is beyond what the lawyer has ever bargained for. "All I wanted was a simple definition of who I have to love, and now I come out of this conversation with the command that I have to love everybody in an excessive way. All I wanted was to get a question answered precisely, and instead He takes the noun and turns it into a verb and now I have no definition at all." That is what happens in the parable.

As Jesus tells the parable, first the Priest comes -- a descendant of Aaron's noble family and an heir of Levi's religious office. Here is a man dedicated to the service of God. Like the lawyer, he is skilled in the law. His record of faithfulness to the temple may have been outstanding. His knowledge of the prayers and hymns of Israel maybe have been exemplary.

And so with the Levite who passes by. As part of the temple staff, he undoubtedly discharges his responsibilities with diligence -- caring for the vessels, repairing the furnishings, participating in the music at the festive celebrations. Both are honored and respected leaders. But none of this can substitute for love. At the moment when the scene cries for mercy, all other credentials are null and void.

Two friends are camping out in the big woods. They wake up the first morning and are standing by their tent having their first cup of coffee for the day when suddenly a huge grizzly bear comes out into the clearing and moves toward them snarling. Quickly, one man reaches down, grabs his tennis shoes, and furiously starts putting them on. The other man looks at him and said, "what do you think you are doing? Do you think you can outrun that grizzly bear? The first man says, "no, and I don't need to. All I need to do is outrun you."

That is the response of self-interest at the expense of others. The Priest and Levite demonstrate that response very well.

But what about the others in the story? What do they say to us?

First, let's look at the thieves.

When they see the man traveling down the road, they do not see a fellow human being made in the image of God. They see someone they can exploit. It does not matter if they harm him so long as they get what they want. Our morning newspaper is filled with these people. Their philosophy is "what is yours is mine and I'll take it."

Second, there is the lawyer who asks Jesus the question. "Who is my neighbor?"

To the lawyer the wounded man is a problem to discuss.

Several years ago an interesting experiment was conducted at Princeton theological seminary. Two psychologist at Princeton university conducted a "good Samaritan" experiment with forty seminary students. The seminarians were asked to prepare a short talk on a specific subject. Some were assigned the parable of the Good Samaritan. Later, the students were told to go across the campus to a taping session. Some were told that they were late. Others that they could take their time. Enroute, each student encountered a "plant" --a man who was obviously ill -- doubled up in pain.

The majority of the seminarians did not stop to offer assistance. Many of those who did not stop were those who thought they were not in a hurry. The psychologists came to the conclusion that the students had inadvertently confirmed the biblical parable. Many rushed by a specific case of human need in order to tape a talk about being available to help those in need.

The lawyer, like these seminarians, was a theologian -- trained to study the word of God and apply it to daily life. But when it comes to the crunch, he seems frozen in inability to help by the theology he professes -- which is why Jesus tells him twice not to learn or study but to "do!"

It is easy to discuss general topics but it is hard to get involved in specific needs. The lawyer feels safer discussing theories. He is nervous when it comes to personal applications. He fails to see that the important question is not "who is my neighbor" but "whom can I neighbor?"

Another character in the parable is the inn keeper. Now we should not criticize him for not being on the road with the victim. He had his own job to do. The criticism of him is that he helps -- not out of love but out of business. He gives all of the care he is paid to give, and no more. To him, ministry is just another job. He treats the injured man like a customer, not as a person in need of love and care.

Only one attitude demonstrated in this story is right -- and that is the attitude of the Samaritan.

In a sermon titled, "On Being the Good News", Martin Luther King Jr. asked a penetrating question and gives an insightful response.

"What constituted the goodness of the good Samaritan?" King asked.

He answered: "It seems to me that this man's goodness may be described in one word, "altruism." The dictionary defines "altruism" as "regard for, and devotion to, the interest of others." The Samaritan was good because he made concern for others the operative center of his life."

The Samaritan had the capacity for altruism that was universal. He had insight into the shared humanity that lay beyond the accidents of race and nationality. He refused to see people as symbols. He saw them in their humanness. He was free from the spiritual myopia that insists in putting labels on others. If he had seen the wounded man as a Jew first, he would not have stopped. But he saw him as a human being first and a Jew by accident."

The Samaritan also possessed the capacity for dangerous altruism. He risked his life to help another. When he stopped to help, he was in danger from the robbers and when he went to the inn he was in danger from the Jew's -- the Indian bringing the wounded cowboy into Dodge City.

I imagine that the first question the Priest and the Levite asked themselves was "if I stop and help this man, what will happen to me?" By the nature of his concern, the Samaritan reverses that question: "If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?"

The Good Samaritan engages in dangerous altruism.

Courage is essential. In the words of Samuel Johnson, "unless a man has courage, he has no security for preserving any other virtue." Of what use is wisdom if one doesn't have the courage to act wisely? What use is truth if one doesn't have the courage to speak it? What use is love if one doesn't have the courage to step out on it? No virtue can stand without the underpinning of courage.

C.S. Lewis agrees. He writes in The Screwtape Letters, "Courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point, which means at the point of highest reality. A chastity or honesty or mercy which yields to danger will be chaste or honest or merciful only on conditions. Pilate was merciful until it became risky."

In the words of Martin Luther King: "The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands in times of challenge and controversy. The true neighbor will risk his position, his prestige, and even his life for the welfare of others. In dangerous valleys and hazardous pathways, he will lift some bruised and bleeding brother to a higher and more noble life"

The Samaritan also possessed excessive altruism. He goes far beyond the call of duty. "Whatever you spend more, when I return I will repay it." If he had stopped short of this open-ended commitment he would have more than fulfilled any human expectation concerning duty to a wounded stranger. His love is complete.

In this, we see the Samaritan as a fitting symbol of Jesus Christ. His altruism, too, is universal. His altruism was dangerous. It led him to the cross. His altruism, too was excessive -- for He gave himself willingly to die and to bear each one of our sins in his own body on the cross.

And it is only when we recognize that we have been loved in this universal, dangerous and excessive way that we can begin to respond as did the Samaritan. It is the key to true thankfulness. Only then can we say: "whatever is mine is God's and whatever is God's belongs to my neighbor because my neighbor belongs to Him."

Jesus said to the lawyer: "Go and do likewise."

And He says the same to us.