| |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|||||
| |
|
|
|
|||
|
Gospel:
Luke 10:25-37 The first home I can remember living in was an old white frame house that stood on the edge of U.S. Route 1 just outside Media, Pennsylvania. In those days before the Interstate system was built, this was a very busy road. We were also fairly near the train station. Perhaps this was why so many bums knocked on our back door, but my mother always claimed that it was because the men of the highway who found they could beg a meal or a bit of money had a secret marking they placed on a home to encourage other penniless travelers. The men normally said something like, “I was wondering if you had a bit of work I could do.” Occasionally, Mother may have offered them work, but mostly I remember her telling the men, no, but that she would make them a plate of food. They got tuna or bologna, or sometimes a hamburger, but always canned baked beans, the things my mother always had on the shelf. She would leave me on the back steps with the traveler while she went into the kitchen to prepare something. I suspect one reason she did this was that as a child of the depression she had seen with her own eyes that ANYONE could end up homeless and hungry. Being hungry and on the road could indicate shiftlessness but it could also merely be the result of bad luck. One reason we stay away from the poor and homeless today is that now, sixty-some years after the end of the Great Depression, we have pretty much convinced ourselves that this could NEVER happen to us. Only people who are fundamentally different from us could end up in the position of having to beg. The thing I wonder about is whether or not she considered that what we were doing might be dangerous. Who could know where these men had been or what their propensities were? They could be criminals. Wasn’t it foolish for a woman at home alone with small children to even open the door to talk with these people? Of course, Jesus did not advertise discipleship as something that increased your safety. In today’s gospel, he is engaged in a theological discussion with some professional theologians, students of the Scriptures. One of them says to Jesus, “What must one do to receive eternal life?” Jesus suggests that the man already knows the answer: “What does Moses say?” And the man responds with the words of the Shema: (known to every Jewish child) “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength, and with all your mind – and he adds the words “and your neighbor as yourself.” Jesus says: “Good, that is the right answer; do this and you will have the eternal life you seek.” But the man says, “But…but…WHO IS… my neighbor?” He may have been doing this to be difficult – or because he believes this is all a word game – or to justify himself, as Luke says, but there is great power to the question! We DO like to define “neighbor” in ways that limit our commitment and liabilities. Truly, to think about the needs of ALL people is overwhelming. One way to limit the claims on us is to focus only on those in our own part of the world. Senator Frist of Tennessee, who disappoints me in many ways, has taken wonderful leadership in calling attention to some people in Sudan who, because they are black and in a remote part of another continent, have been easy to overlook. One of our most popular criteria for who-is-my-neighbor is: “Who can I touch safely?” Jesus tells his fellow theologians he would like to get specific about this: “There was a man who went down from Jerusalem to Jericho.” Even today, as you drive or walk it, this road looks like a movie set for an ambush. It HAD to be a dangerous route to take. It is no surprise to hear that one traveler has been beaten and robbed and left half-dead in a ditch. It is no surprise either that anyone who went through there would feel just like we do in an unfamiliar neighborhood late at night. A bishop comes along in his black Chrysler, but he averts his eyes from the beat-up man and he keeps the windows rolled up. He probably has somewhere important he has to be. Next comes the senior warden of the local Episcopal Church. He slows down but quickly realizes he has no idea whether this is a real crisis situation or some kind of a trap. So he speeds away. The third car to come by is an old Ford Econoline van driven by a member of the local political wing of Hamas. He stops, checks the man out, bandages his wounds and takes him to the Jericho Marriott, and leaves his credit card number with the desk clerk so the man can be taken care of . The theologian is none too happy when Jesus says, “Which man was the neighbor?” Notice that he is not going to say, “The Samaritan” out loud. He says, “The one who DID mercy.” Jesus says; “Go, and do likewise. But even before this is a story about DOING, it is a story about SEEING. In Jesus’ society there were tremendous social barriers between rich and poor. A poor man would not dare speak to a person of wealth and power. But they were always PRESENT. You could not avoid seeing the poor, for they were constantly in your midst. When the wealthy held banquets in their very open houses, they had to deal with the poor looking on through the whole thing. We have solved this problem to a great extent through zoning and simply by living in a country of great size. When neighborhoods get rundown, it is cheaper to move away than to fix them up. This is a pattern we learned in the 18th and 19th centuries, and when we could no longer move WEST to get away from our problems, we invented the suburbs. The automobile made it possible to put distance between ourselves and those we did not want to see. So, what a gift it is to you and your children that you came downtown this morning. You had to be willing to see the poor – and depending on what route you take home you can see or avoid seeing more of them. Even though the lawyer, the theologian, would love to stay at the level of theory, Jesus does not let him. He says: “Go and DO likewise.” We tend to define Christianity by a set of beliefs, but the earliest Christians were known not for their opinions but for their distinctive practices. Contemporary writers say: “They call one another ‘brother’ or ‘sister’ without distinction. The feed the poor, all who come to them. Some of them sell what they have and put it into the community treasury. They let their women eat at their banquets and sometimes even join in the discussion.” A lot of us fail to act because we recognize the risks. It may not be safe. And if we do get involved, we could get into all kinds of liability. On an airplane once, I got into a conversation with a seatmate and learned that he was a doctor. Later during the flight when an announcement was made asking if there was a doctor on board, he told me not to say anything. I have a physician friend who has been sued a few times and almost died from a stroke. When he is in a situation like this, he always says, “I’ll help….” Finally, we fail to act because we are afraid we may get things wrong. We can always wait for more data. And be clear that we are not just talking about one-to-one acts of kindness but about VOTING mercy and using our influence for mercy. How safe do we need to be? How sure that we are doing things right? Let’s get on with it and maybe someday we will hear someone telling the story of the Good Episcopalian, who (despite the cultural expectation that these people are only concerned about using the right fork) met the needs of his fellow person. Copyright 2004 Calvary Episcopal Church Gospel: Luke 10:25-37 |
||
 |
|||
|
|||
|
Copyright ©1999-2007
explorefaith.org
|
Go
and Do Likewise
