Luke 10:25 - 37
Every time Trinity Sunday rolls around, someone says that a sermon on the Trinity is the hardest to preach. But I think the story of the good Samaritan is right up there in difficulty. If I asked, “What is Jesus’ point?” We would all say, “Jesus wants us to have compassion for people in trouble” or something along those lines. We get the point, Jesus. But let's dive a little deeper.
First, why a Samaritan? The usual answer is that Jews and Samaritans hated each other. It was said that Jews who were traveling to Galilee would cross the Jordan river twice to avoid setting foot on Samaritan land. But there are a couple of problems with this. This is the only place where this story is told, and we know that Luke is writing for Gentile Christians. Luke’s understanding of Palestinian culture and geography is not as clear as one might expect if he were writing a first-hand account. And if he wanted someone that his audience could hate, he might have been better off using a Roman soldier or a tax collector as the hero of his story. His audience would probably resonate with that. A few modern scholars think that Luke's concern over Samaritans, which is found in several places in his gospel and in the Acts of the Apostles, has a lot to do with Luke’s interest in demonstrating that Christ brings people together; first, the tax collectors, sinners, lepers, demoniacs among the Jewish people; then the Samaritans are brought in -- ancient rivals of the Jews; and finally the Gentiles as we travel through the Acts of the Apostles.
Another thing about this story is that some of the Church Fathers read it entirely differently. The wounded man was the human race, incapable of helping himself; the priest and the levite were the law and the prophets -- incapable of helping restore the broken man to life. The Samaritan, who represents Christ, uses two sacramental substances -- oil and wine, to begin restoring the man to health. He brings the man to the inn which represents the Church; and he promises to return to pay whatever is necessary -- Christ’s second coming. Saint Augustine preached this analogy and Origen wrote about it.
You may be asking yourself, “What’s the point?” and I don’t blame you. But I’ve got to share a little of my research, yes?
There is something for you and I to think about, though. If you take a group of three or four kids who are roughly between the ages of two and three -- it doesn’t matter what race they come from or what part of the world -- and one of them shows signs of distress, the others will spontaneously move to comfort the child. They drop what they are doing and do to the distressed child those things that they have experienced from their own parents. I remember seeing this with my own children; the three-year-old would comfort the crying one year old. It’s as though we are all born good Samaritans. Why do we stop?
The priest and the Levite probably had good reasons. They might have remembered stories about how bandits would hide until someone stopped to help, and then rob that person as well. Or they might have looked and figured that the man was already dead and there was nothing much they could do. The priest might have been in a hurry and knew that the Levite wasn’t far behind, and he could deal with the problem. The Levite might have thought that if the priest hadn’t stopped, he needn’t stop either.
The Samaritan had places to go and things to do as well. And he was in foreign territory. And if someone came along and saw a Samaritan standing by a dying man, would they immediately conclude that he had done the violent deed? But the Samaritan put all those thoughts aside because he was moved with pity. Luke tells us that he felt it in his guts, like those toddlers feel the pain of their peers.
Our priest may have figured he didn’t have the medical knowledge or the equipment to do a proper job. The Samaritan used what he had -- oil and wine, and maybe strips of his own clothing to bind up the wounds. He might have left the man at that point and promised to send someone back from him -- but instead, he got off his own animal and put the stranger on it and walked alongside until they came to the inn. And you know the rest; the Samaritan never stopped being responsible for the wounded stranger, even to promise to repay the innkeeper whatever he spent over and above the two denarii that were given -- that, by the way, was two- or three-days wages.
So think about this question? What stopped you? Why did you quit being a good Samaritan? Oh, I know many of you are charitable and put your money where your mouth is, but if you are like me, you might give the man some money, or call the salvation army, or even call for an ambulance. But if you are like me, you would be happy to turn the problem over to someone else so you can get back to your life.
Remember the toddlers. Jesus said we have to become like little children. Perhaps that’s what he was talking about.
