Plymouth Congregational Church of Fort Wayne, UCC
July 11th, 2010

Scripture Lesson:  Luke 10:25-37

The Unexpected Neighbor

"Which of these three, do you think,
was a neighbor to the man who fell ..."
(Luke 10:36)

Prelude

A week or so ago I finished reading a book

by Phyllis Tickle entitled, The Great Emergence,

subtitled, "How Christianity is Changing and Why."

It was a fascinating read, an astute work of historical

analysis that seeks, in part, to explain, interpret, and

place in context the multiple trends of our time that

buffet and bang against the doors of the church.

For most of my ministry, I've been trying to figure out

what I've gotten myself into as a card-carrying Christian clergy;

and trying hard to sort through the realities of life in the church

for which my years of study and training did not prepare me. 

I still have a book in my library, dating from 1987,

written by Lyle Schaller, which I keep solely for its title;

It's a Different World.  Schaller was noted as a local church guru,

an expert on diagnosing the trends and changes challenging

faith and pinching life in the church. 

No one would ever accuse me of being part of an

ecclesiastical avant-garde.  One of the biggest leaps

in my life occurred when I begrudgingly discarded

my manual Smith-Corona for an electric typewriter

and the novelty of ribbon cartridge inserts. 

I simply couldn't "see" the coming of the "screen"

and the early editions of computers. 

Schaller wrote for those reeling within

the turmoil of a decade or so.

Tickle writes for those ruffled by the ripples

of a century or more.  She traces larger trajectories

that are at play.  The image she employs is that of a

rummage sale.  Every five hundred years or so the church

grouses around in the attic where dusty dogma and

outdated doctrines get shelved.  When the attic is full

and overflowing, when faith is frayed and seemingly

stretched to this limits, there comes a reassessment,

and with reassessment there is a "giant rummage sale,"

a discarding of that which is no longer pertinent,

a house cleaning of that which is a hindrance

and no longer functional to the flourishing of faith.

Five hundred years ago - there was the Great Reformation,

the shock of a split from which we trace Roman, Protestant,

Anabaptist traditions.

One thousand years ago - there was the Great Schism,

the break of the church into west and east,

Catholic and Orthodox.

Fifteen hundred years ago - the Age of Gregory the Great,

there was the development of the monastic movement,

which served to protect and shelter the seeds of gospel

faith.

Two thousand years ago was the Great Transformation,

when a richly layered and internally conflicted Judaic faith

saw the emergence of Christianity and Rabbinic Judaism.

Tickles argues that we are living in an epic age of no less significance,

an age of the Great Emergence; a new thing is happening;

it is discernable and undeniable; the rummage sale is in full swing,

and we are in the thick of it, not so much leading the way, but,

in a church such as Plymouth, we are positioned

to be reactors, responders, retainers of what is most

vital and necessary for living faith.

I'm expecting to address more fully the Great Emergence

in the fall of the year; I sense enough folks are curious

about this, who will benefit from a closer look during

Chapel Class in the fall.

I mention this, for one of the significant changes Tickle mentions is the

place of scripture, Bible knowledge, within the larger culture.  With the

commencement of WWII, the average Christian (Catholic/Protestant) had

reasonable familiarity with the Bible.  Biblical literacy/cultural literacy

were entwined.  Today we contend with what Tickle calls "scriptural

innocents."  Some are eager to learn; this is good, it is opportunity for

advancement.  But for others, scripture is being propelled "farther and

farther into the attics of life" where antiques that have lost favor get

stored.  We are at an extreme point in this, with two or more generations

functioning as "naifs," beginners.  And beginners, so comments Tickle, are

"easily exploited, easily crippled, easily sacrificed"  (Great Emergence, p. 116).

          *****           *****           *****           *****

I share this as background to the gospel lesson

from Luke this morning, a teaching that has

rough parallels in the gospels of Matthew and Mark,

but which Luke tweaks with one of the most

memorable of parables credited to Jesus.

The immediate scene is one of a verbal sparring match,

not antagonistic, but not without an edge to the exchange.

Luke clearly states Jesus is being tested by the lawyer,

a professor of Torah, who asked about eternal life,

and what one must do in order to gain such an inheritance.

So begins the match.  Jesus volleys back, give the

professor opportunity to pontificate, which he does. 

It is the lawyer who proceeds to recite chapter and

verse from Deuteronomy 6:5; and Leviticus 19:18:

Love God (with heart, soul, and strength);

love neighbor (as yourself).

Curiously, in Matthew (22:34-40) and Mark (12:28-34),

it is Jesus who quotes the scripture, giving a condensed

summary of the law, citing the first and greatest of the

commandments.  In Luke, it is this engaging lawyer who

provides the summary, suggesting Jesus does not have

sole proprietorship over this teaching.  It was available,

it was in the currency of thought during Jesus time. 

Yet the lawyer belabors the exchange,

desiring to probe beyond the generalities of theory,

into the question of application.

We are informed he wanted to "justify himself" (Luke 10:29; NRSV).

The question, I sense, is generated more from

from conceit rather than any real concern.

Always there are limits, are there not?

How will Jesus parcel the question -

narrowly or more broadly?

So the question is posed:  "Who is my neighbor?"  (Luke 10:29). 

With this inquiry, Luke ventures into parabolic terrain

unknown and uncharted by either Matthew or Mark.

He is off on his own.  The parable, known to us as

the Good Samaritan, is intriguing and unique, for it is

presented as a multiple choice question.  We have a

trio of characters, each a potential neighbor

to the unfortunate pilgrim who has gotten mugged

on the road to Jericho.

Let me retrace, ever so briefly.

How well do we know this parable?

Are we well versed in this teaching,

or, as Tickle so gently stated, are

we scriptural innocents?

If we presume to know the teaching,

then still we need be careful, that we

not presume too much.

Life is not stable in parable. 

It is unsettling.  Parable subverts.

Parable is designed to throw us off balance. 

Parable always invite reassessment

of who we are, where we are,

in the grand scheme of grace.

Over twenty years ago, John Dominic Crossan commented

the Good Samaritan story was so ingrained in our consciousness

that it evoked no emotional reaction.  

It was parable without punch. 

It had lost its piercing power.

It had been pacified, mollified, denuded of his shocking implications.

The Good Samaritan illustrated what one does for the person in need,

which is to show compassion and display mercy.

There is, though, a larger issue which Jesus brings into play.

Jesus is concerned not only with what is involved in being a neighbor,

but with who is being the neighbor. 

Drama is heightened in the parable,

for we have little clue about the victim.

The robbers had stripped the victim,

leaving him half-dead.

The stripping is a detail in the story that is significant.

The victim has no identification.

The victim is anonymous.

The victim is a nobody. 

Half-dead nobodies have no claim upon us.

We are not responsible for nobodies.

We are not obligated for nobodies whose lives

have taken unfortunate, half-dead turns.

The Levite and priest who saw the nobody,

and who passed by on the far side of the road,

really can't be expected to respond.

It's not reasonable, not safe, to poke around

in the problems of nobodies.    

Yet the Samaritan saw what the Levite and priest saw.

The Samaritan is was moved with pity.

The Samaritan went and bandaged his wounds.

The Samaritan administered oil and wine on them.

The Samaritan put the man on his own animal,

transported him to an inn.

The Samaritan provided out of his own pocket

for lodging and care.

The Samaritan followed up the next day, checking in,

promising to pay the bill that would mount up.

It is critical that we realize what was done.

But critical, too, that we realize who it was that was doing it.

The Samaritan, in the ancient world, would have struck

a visceral response of suspicion, if not revulsion. 

Samaritans were a problematic people,

irritants whose presence complicated

the quotidian details of life.  

Earlier in Luke, Team Jesus had ventured into a Samaritan

village, and they had been rejected.  These were the people

that inspired James and John to ask:  "Lord, do you want us

to command fire to come down from heaven and consume

them."  They were not valued, honored, respected. 

They were a sore spot in the ancient world,

tainted transplants from the east.  So, its all the more

shocking to have Jesus feature the Samaritan doing what

two Jews wouldn't, then posing the question:

which of the three was neighbor to the nobody?

The world of the parable is not stable.

Parable is pliable. 

The Samaritan was a nobody

who becomes a somebody,

even a neighbor in the teachings of Jesus.

Are you on a side, against some other

who conjures enmity in your heart?

Whoever the "other" you may spite

becomes the Samaritan

in the mind of Christ.

The Samaritan may be woman;

may be man; may be gay; may be straight;

may be illegal to the affront of a pilgrim's pride;

the Samaritan may be Irish to your English,

Palestinian Arab to your Israeli Jew.

To the naked, the bruised, half-dead

nobody, who was neighbor?

Don't you wonder if the lawyer looked,

and took a long pause before answering Jesus?

Jesus cast in the parable a character for whom

prejudice was culturally permissible.

Once you concede the "nobody" Samaritan

is capable being neighbor, the whole world

gets turned upside down.

I find it interesting.  The lawyer never speaks

of the Samaritan.  He simply responds:

"The one who showed him mercy."

It was enough for Jesus to issue the challenge:

Go and do likewise.

It is here that the world of parable

takes another turn. 

Instead of looking out at others, to see who is acting/doing

neighborly things, the parable confronts us to look within,

at ourselves, considering not who is neighbor to us, or to some other.

No, the parable becomes intensely personal;

with ears that hear, we become judge of our

own actions and daily lives, and how we,

if we, serve as neighbors to others. 

We are on the hook of Jesus,

just as the lawyer was hooked.

As we encounter the needs of others,

whether we count them friend or stranger or nobodies,

we become neighbors - if we respond

with compassion and mercy, in as much as we

"Go and do likewise."

          *****           *****           *****           *****

I started out this morning working with Phyllis Tickle,

who suggests a Great Emergence is unfolding before our

eyes, church is re-shaping and re-forming in ways we may

find bewildering, attics being cleaned out,

doctrines/dogmas being curbed,

no longer suited to faith that is

relevant and transformative. 

Yet compassion, mercy, being neighbor,

not for what you gain but because it is good and right,

loving God, working to love and honor oneself - these are

constant concerns for the Christian, seeking to walk

in the light and love of Christ.

I'd mention in closing just this.

Curious that the original question

almost becomes lost in the shuffle of

this scripture.  Remember what it was?

Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?  

Twice the question is asked in Luke.

And in both instances, the answer comes

only indirectly.  There is no bi-folded pamphlet

answering with bullet points spelling

"the what" as definition for "the way."

(The second occasion comes in chapter 18,

when the rich ruler inquires.) 

In both instances, the law comes into play.

Follow the law, in both instances it is implied

that we need follow where Jesus leads.

In that lead mercy triumphs, nobodies become somebodies,

those despised and deprecated by the world become

neighbors in the grace of God and love of Jesus.

May we be wise to "Go and do likewise."

May we trust that eternal life is the ultimate end

in the grand scheme of grace, and in that grace,

may God be glorified!