Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Aw, Come On, Jesus! Not them.


On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
“What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read it?”
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’; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’
“You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”
But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”
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. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. 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. The next day he took out two denarii 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.’
“Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”
The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”
Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.” (Luke 10:25-37 NIV)

One of my favorite professors from my time at Candler School of Theology is Dr. William Mallard. He is frighteningly intelligent and disarmingly charming. He can, seemingly without effort, bring a disturbing or confusing passage of Scripture to life and make you think you had it figured out all along while at the same time causing you rethink your conclusions. I'll never forget the day he lectured (preached, really) on this passage. It's so familiar to many that we can miss new understanding because we think we have it figured out.

He presented the story as a one-man drama. The setting was a synagogue where Jesus would go to study and discuss the Scriptures, often with a contingent of disciples in tow. On this particular occasion a lawyer (Dr. Mallard's words) confronts Jesus, most likely in an attempt to make him look bad in front of the community and blunt his sharply increasing popularity. When he asks a loaded question Jesus turns it on him and asks what he thinks. The disciples are standing behind Jesus wondering how this will turn out (no doubt remembering the first time he spoke in a Synagogue and made the people so mad they tried to throw him off a cliff). 

The lawyer immediately recites the Shema Yisrael which is Deuteronomy 6:4-5 and happens to be the first passage of Scripture little Hebrew children learn. At this the disciples are a little tense knowing that he answered well. But Jesus essentially pats him on the head and says, "Good boy, you remember," which was more than a little humiliating for the lawyer. The disciples are all high-fiving each other and giving Jesus lots of "attaboys." 

Feeling a flush of embarrassment the lawyer looks to save face so he asks Jesus, "Who is my neighbor," hoping to lure him into an answer that would make him look bad. To answer, Jesus does what Jesus does best. He tells a story. He has everyone in the room in the palm of his hand as he spins the tale about a hapless traveler on a dangerous road. When Jesus says that the priest, a religious professional often unpopular with the masses, walks right past without helping, the disciples are grinning and elbowing each other, watching the priest who would have been present for the service churn with anger.

Then when Jesus suggests that a Levite, an often even more widely despised, higher order of priest, walks by without helping the victim the disciples are chest-bumping each other and slapping Jesus on the back. "You tell 'em, Jesus (woot woot)."

Then, disaster strikes. Jesus begins to describe the hero of the story, and he's a...a...a...Samaritan? "Jesus," they think or maybe whisper, "Are you crazy? Really, a Samaritan? What were you thinking? You had the religious elites on the ropes and the crowd ready to crown you king. Now...we may be lucky to get out of here alive." The disciples slip Jesus out a side door and head for a bookstore to find of copy of "How to Win Friends and Influence People."

But Jesus didn't come to win friends and he certainly didn't need to learn how to influence people. Jesus came to influence his people, the Jews, and the Gentiles to rethink the whole idea of neighbor. It was, perhaps, the centerpiece of his larger mission to restore all creation. It's a lesson that was unpopular then and still is. Everyone wants to co-opt Jesus for their own agendas, especially determining who is in and who is out and who is beyond the reach of the kingdom. Jesus' dramatic story leaves us with an unsettling truth. The very one that we think is persona non grata in God's kingdom (or anyone else's) may be the very one who comes along and helps us up from our ditch of discrimination and leads us to wholeness of heart.


Who are the Samaritans in our lives? Are we willing to let Jesus' story sink in deeply and do some redemptive work? (sigh)

Blessings,
Larry




3 comments:

  1. I'm thinking about loving the Samaritans, but I'm also thinking about loving the priests and the Levites, who I equate with people who pass me too close when I'm on my bike and very wealthy folks in expensive cars in the Starbucks drive through who don't tip or take their attention off their cell phones to notice that baristas are people. I have a much harder time thinking about needing to love them. It's easy to imagine showing compassion to the man in the story who was beaten and robbed. It's easy to imagine showing compassion to the man in the story who gave his all to help someone he was "supposed" to despise. But it's really hard to imagine showing compassion for those apparently without compassion. They are my "neighbors" in the story - the ones I'm supposed to love who seem to TRY to make themselves unlovable. Which I know is the weakness of my very human perception.

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  2. Good point, Lauren! We often imagine our neighbors who need love as being poor, helpless, and just needing a hand. But it's more difficult when we realize that being poor does not make someone "deserving" (in our own eyes) and also that being rich does not mean the person is not poor in spirit. We are called to love all of these people, not because they deserve it and not because we can even empathize with them. We may never know others' hearts as God does, but our job is to treat them as if we do. Every person is damaged in some way, and every person has basic needs which must be met. Treating others with some basic courtesy is the first step to showing them the love of Christ.

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  3. Lauren, I really appreciate the insight of your comment. The Good Samaritan story is one I'll be teaching as part of VBS this summer, and your words have challenged me to include your broader definition of who our neighbors are that need God's love. Vilifying that "bad" priest and Levite doesn't serve the story well. As you point out, our daily lives bring us in contact with priests and Levites, as well as Samaritans and the helpless and hurting.

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