The Good Samaritan

²⁵ On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

²⁶ “What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read it?”

²⁷ He answered, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’[a]; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’[b]”

²⁸ “You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”

²⁹ But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

³⁰ In reply Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead.

³¹ A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side.

³² So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side.

³³ But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him.

³⁴ He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him.

³⁵ The next day he took out two denarii[c] and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’

³⁶ “Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”

³⁷ The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”

Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.”

I remember driving home the twenty miles or so from the rural Indiana parish I served. I drove in a blinding rainstorm when one of those ominous red lights on the dashboard went on and my car slowly ground to a halt. No matter how much I pushed or pumped the accelerator, I was literally “dead in the water.” I had managed to steer the car to the side of the road, then sat there wondering what to do next. Without even an umbrella, any walk through the driving sheets of rain seemed like a very bad idea.

On the other hand, I was not in a patient mood, and it didn’t take long for me to decide that any action was better than no action. So, out I went into the rain. I aimed for a farmhouse I could just barely make out in the distance.The thought ran through my mind, “What if no one is home?” I dismissed that with, “I’ll cross that bridge when and IF I get to it.”

I’d only gone a few yards when a car pulled up beside me. Two men were in the front seat. The young man closest to me rolled down his window. While I hesitated, the driver called out, “It’s o.k. We’re delivering papers for the Muncie Star.” Then he quickly told me their names. I decided that if they were untrustworthy, they probably would not have told me all this and I jumped in. The men graciously drove me all the way home, delivering me safely to my family. They were indeed my good Samaritans that day.

To trust or not to trust. Travelers and sojourners of every age have faced that decision. Is the hotel clerk who’s locking away my valuables trustworthy? Is that hitchhiker really in trouble, or just looking for a victim to prey on? Did he give me accurate directions through safe areas of the unfamiliar city?

Things may not turn out as well as they did for me that rainy Sunday. Another time, same car, same problem – different road, I was on Interstate 74 between Richmond and Indianapolis when the car broke down. By now I had learned how to take care of this problem: Give the engine some time to cool down, then add water to the radiator and drive to the nearest exit to call my husband. A simple, manageable plan. Except this time my would-be good Samaritan gave me the creeps. He was insistent that I could get in his car and he would drive me ANYWHERE I needed to go, even all the way to my meeting in Indianapolis, which was still 75 miles away. In every way he could think of he tried to persuade me to get into his car. The more he pushed, the more I resisted. When I had my car running again, he insisted on following me to the exit and to the truck stop where I would go in and call home. I couldn’t shake him. I didn’t have much cash, but when I got to the truck stop, I asked for a table and ordered a piece of pie. It was a public place full of many people. If he bothered me here, I could tell the waitress what was going on and have her call the police.

Maybe this guy would have delivered me safely to my meeting, but I try not to think about “what ifs” because the truth is I did not trust him. Travelers, especially those in an unfamiliar country or city, must be alert to discern who they can and cannot trust or what parts of town are not safe. These are real concerns.

It was that way on the road to Jericho in Jesus’ day. It was steep and treacherous in more ways than one. The way was full of many places where thieves and bandits could hide until unsuspecting or vulnerable travelers could be attacked, beaten, robbed and left for dead. It was all too familiar a scenario Jesus painted when he told the story of what we have come to call “the good Samaritan.”

As the story goes, this man was beaten, robbed and left for dead along the road to Jericho. A priest and a Levite both happened along the road. Priests alone were allowed to make sacrifices in the temple and at the sacrificial alter. Levites traced their ancestry to the tribe of Levi. Levites had duties in public worship also, such as singers, gatekeepers, guardians, judges and craftsmen. The priest and the Levite saw the man who had been robbed and both passed by on the other side of the road. This seems shocking. It as certainly unfortunate for the injured man. However, Jesus’ audience understood why the priest and Levite should not be judged too harshly. If either of them had touched the man and found he was already dead, as it appeared he might be, they would become ritually unclean and unable to perform their temple duties. (Imagine your pastor coming to worship, serving communion and shaking hands, all while positive for CoVid-19.)

Then a Samaritan came along. Samaritans were hated and despised by the Jews and, frankly, the feeling was mutual. That’s why what Jesus says next is such a shock. It was this Samaritan who stopped and cared for the beaten man. He gave him first aid. Then him took him to a hotel and paid in advance for the inn keeper to care for the man for several days. He returned a few days later just to make sure that man was recovering and that the hotel manager was properly reimbursed.

Those listening to Jesus’ story were incredulous. Why would someone like THAT – a Samaritan of all things, go to such trouble to help someone? To help a JEW? Their sworn enemy?

Remember, A man had asked Jesus, “Who is my neighbor?” That’s the point of the whole story. If I am to love God with all my heart, mind and strength and love my neighbor as myself, then, who are we really talking about? Who is my neighbor?

Jesus’ story of the good Samaritan turns all our preconceived notions and pat answers upside down and inside out. Our neighbor, Jesus wants us to know, is most likely the person we’d least expect. Imagine, a Samaritan being a good neighbor to a Jew? Jesus might as well have said our neighbor is the Muslim, democrats, republicans, feminists, the Chinese, immigrant, mentally ill or any other of many groups of people who make us uncomfortable. Who we consider our enemy. They are the scorned, the excluded and the outright hated of our society.

Jesus may not have mentioned our scorned ones all by name, but the spirit and intent of the message is clear. Loving God and loving your neighbor means possessing compassion for and a willingness to serve those people you would just as soon never have to interact with. People you would rather not include in your life and your love. The story means that one day when we are in need, we might be really surprised to find one of these people who make us so uncomfortable might be the very person who stops to help us and care for us.

This, friends, is the wonderful, surprising, and challenging life and work the Lord calls us to. Thanks be to God. Lord, make me more like Jesus. Amen.