(Luke 10.25-37) (Pentecost 5)
14 July 2019 – © Neil Millar
Last week, I started a little sermon series titled Bread for the Journey. The aim being to highlight four virtues that nurture growth in the spiritual life, that support our development as disciples of Christ. Last week, I spoke about the need for humility, and this week I want to speak about compassion. It’s a beautiful word – it comes from the Latin compati, literally, ‘to suffer with’. But what does that mean? What does compassion look and feel like? It sounds hard and painful in a world of such need. How is it enacted? And how does it sustain us in the spiritual life?
Well, I hope to engage with these questions as we explore today’s reading from Luke’s gospel, a text that describes a conversation with a lawyer who, according to Luke, was testing Jesus, presumably to check out if he was orthodox, and likely in an attempt to find something with which to discredit and condemn him. ‘Teacher’, he says, ‘what must I do to inherit eternal life?’ Jesus, wise to what’s happening, offers the question back to this man, asking him to state what his own area of expertise suggests. ‘What is written in the law? What do you read there?’ The lawyer answers with the two great commandments, and Jesus concurs. ‘You have given the right answer, do this and you will live.’ But note the added challenge in Jesus’s response – his emphasis on action: ‘do this and you will live’. For Jesus, it’s not about giving the right answer in an abstract theoretical game, it’s about living it – walking the talk.
But this guy isn’t finished yet, he’s been gently but firmly brought back to practicalities and perhaps feels slightly rebuked, so he has another go. ‘But wanting to justify himself’, the text says, he asks, ‘And who is my neighbour?’ Okay, he seems to be saying, fair cop, so let’s see how you go with this chestnut!! Who is this neighbour that I’m to love as I love myself? Now, it’s in relation to this question that Jesus tells what NT scholar NT Wright refers to as ‘one of the most brilliant miniature stories ever composed’ (1996.306) – the Parable of the good Samaritan.
I wonder what struck you as you heard Elizabeth reading this story a few minutes ago? If we were in a bible study group, I’d be going around the circle at this point – listening for people’s responses, but in church that’s difficult so, we’re going to have to work with what struck me!! First, I’m struck by what a classic style and structure this story has. Think of all the tales you’ve heard that are like this – think of Aladdin and the three wishes, Goldilocks and the Three Bears, the Three Billy Goats Gruff, the Three Little Pigs, the list is endless, all stories with a dilemma followed by a series of responses, usually three. In this parable, we have a man travelling down the road from Jerusalem to Jericho – it’s a desert road that winds through some barren landscape. The man fell into the hands of robbers who stripped, beat and presumably robbed him, and then left him lying there ‘half-dead’. Cue the arrival of the first of three possible helpers.
Perchance, a priest, an obviously religious man comes down the road. Well, how lucky is this, we might think, surely this devout servant of God will help the poor unfortunate fellow. But, when the priest saw the man, he what? (‘Passed by on the other side of the road.’) Now, I’ve heard a range of explanations for why he did this. Some suggest he didn’t want to defile himself by touching a ‘dead’ body, even though the Torah also obliged Israelites to help other Israelites in need. Maybe he was also on his way to an important meeting at the temple and pressed for time? Martin Luther King suggested that he may’ve been scared; afraid that this guy was faking his injuries and that he might jump up and rob and beat him. Or, if not this guy, maybe the robbers are still around and will jump him too; best get away as fast as possible, best not get involved. Whatever the reason, this first man passes by on the other side.
Next, comes a Levite, a Jewish lay person. When he came to the place and saw his countryman lying in the ditch, he did what? (‘Passed by on the other side of the road.’) Note the pattern emerging here, two details repeated in both cases. First, we’re told that both men saw the injured man, the implication being that both clearly recognized his desperate plight. And, having seen him, both passed by on the other side, that is, they both very deliberately moved further away from him.
‘But’, says Jesus, and here’s a clue that something different is about to take place. Here’s our significant third. ‘But a Samaritan while travelling’, did what? (‘Came near him’). ‘Came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity.’ The Greek word is explanchnisthē, it means literally ‘stirred in the gut’ and suggests a deep bodily reaction. It’s also translated, ‘he felt compassion’. And, it says, ‘he went to him’ (there it is again – more emphasis on coming closer) ‘he went to him and bandaged his wounds having poured oil and wine on them’, and put him on his donkey, took him to an inn, and took care of him, and so on…
Okay, so here’s the hero of the story, a Samaritan who practices compassion. Of all people!! Remember the rivalry between Jews and Samaritans, the hostility (I’ve spoken about it in recent weeks)? Jews and Samaritans detested each other. So, here’s a dramatic surprise in the story, a shock (certainly for first century Jewish hearers), the person who clearly acts according to the law of love is a Samaritan, the person who shows himself to be a neighbour is a Samaritan. Remember what the lawyer had asked: Who’s my neighbour? Jesus told the parable in response to that question.
But here’s the key: the Greek word translated as neighbour here – plēsion, means, ‘one who is near’. The lawyer is asking in effect, who’s near enough to me that I am obliged to love them as I love myself? Who’s my neighbour? Where do I draw the line? But Jesus turns the whole thing around and, as with his first response to this lawyer, brings it back to practicalities. He’s not interested in setting limits – in listing who falls into some pre-existing category of neighbour. He’s interested in the practice of neighbourliness. In answer to the question of who is my neighbour he tells the story of a man (a Samaritan no less) who became a neighbour. That is, instead of defining who is near enough to be my neighbour, Jesus effectively asks, to whom will you draw near?
At the end of the story, he asks, ‘Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbour (i.e. acted neighbourly) to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?’ The one who showed him mercy, the lawyer replied. To which Jesus says, ‘Go and do likewise’, In other words, forget about your definitions of who’s in and out, forget about legal obligations; get on with being neighbourly. And, what does that mean? How do we do that? By drawing near. Which brings us back to the practice of compassion.
As Jesus’ parable shows, there’s a temptation we all face to pass by on the other side of the road. Perhaps it’s fear of getting involved, being tainted, being overwhelmed, not having enough to meet the need, getting trapped, being used, being frustrated that these person’s circumstances somehow implicate me, when my life is busy and demanding enough as it is. I imagine we’ve all felt all of these things at times, and they’re understandable reactions. But they also distance us from each other. And there’s something about practicing compassion, allowing ourselves to draw near and see, to be affected, and to get involved that is deeply sustaining of our humanity, our sense of connection with the life of the world. It can be painful to be vulnerable and undefended in the face of need, but in truth, it’s also painful to pass by. At some level, we know we’re alienated and diminished when we withhold ourselves – our souls harden. In a paradoxical way, it’s when we’re ‘with’ the suffering of others that our souls expand. Compassion is bread for the journey – for others and for us. It’s how we respond to our vocation to love one another as we love ourselves.
When Jesus first told this parable, he left that lawyer with the commission to ‘go and do likewise’. He didn’t do this as from ‘on high’ – from a distance, he was speaking as one who himself had drawn near to us – as Emmanuel – God with us. Jesus is accompanying, strengthening, sustaining, is with those who are practicing compassion. Today, we’ve been given the same commission (co-mission) – ‘Go and do likewise’. Which raises the question: What would it mean for me (for you) to go and do as this Samaritan did? To whom might I draw nearer? To whom will I be neighbour?
Reference
Wright, NT (1996) Jesus and the Victory of God, Fortress Press, Minneapolis, MN.
http://stninians.ht.dstier2.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/07/NM.LK10.25-37.pdf