The Stamford Independent

Sermon: Luke 10:25-37 Pentecost, Year C; Sunday, July 15, 2007
“Being the neighbor” Preached at Trinity Emmanuel Church, Stamford, CT; Kate Heichler

Lord, give us your sight to see those who hurt; give us your heart to love them. Amen.

This parable is usually called “The Good Samaritan.”
It might better be called “a Tale of Two Questions.”
A lawyer asks Jesus a big question, “What must I do to inherit eternal life.”
Now, another time someone asked Jesus that question, he said,
“Sell what you have and give it to the poor. Then come, follow me.”
He’s much easier on this guy – he just asks him, “What does it say in the Law?”
The man answers correctly, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart,
mind and soul, and your neighbor as yourself.”
Bing! Right answer. Jesus says, “Then fine. Do it. You’re in.”

But the lawyer doesn’t quit while he’s ahead – maybe he really wants to know,
“Who is my neighbor?” or maybe he wants to be able to narrow it down,
so he knows whose needs it’s safe to ignore.
For centuries, ethicists have been taking this “love commandment”
and trying to define “Who is the neighbor?” – is it only people we’re related to?
Only people with whom we share ethnicity? Or religion? Or nationality?
The lawyer asks the question for the rest of us: “Okay, who is my neighbor?”

And in reply, Jesus tells this story – and he punches it up a bit by making
the two passersby religious bigwigs, and he further loads it by making
the Samaritan go way beyond the “call of duty” in his care for the beaten man.
Is this the standard we’re supposed to live up to?
Surely we don’t have everybody as our neighbor, do we?

Well, one reading of this parable suggests that, yes, Jesus says,
in the Kingdom of God, everyone is our neighbor.
In the kingdom of this world, we get by, by defining “neighbor” very carefully.
But Jesus taught – and lived – a radical love that regards the “least of these”
as highly as the people we know and recognize and care about.
Our neighbor is the person next door, our co-worker, our family –
and our neighbor is the woman fighting AIDS in an African village,
the socialite busted for drunk driving –
even the radical Islamist terrorist plotting our destruction.
We don’t get to pick and choose, to include or exclude.

In Jesus’ world, the question is not,
“What is the least I can get away with and still consider myself a good person.”
The question is, “What is the most I can do within the constraints of my life?
How much can I love? How big can my heart get?”
When we shut out the needs of the world, or lump groups of people into categories,
we miss an opportunity to love; we are walking by on the other side, not looking.
And our ability to do that, to think in terms of ourselves as individuals
instead of as connected communities, has resulted in a world where many
suffer huge deprivation while others live in tremendous plenty.

When we live in six-figure homes and drive luxury cars – and I’ll just admit
right now I’m close to buying a convertible – while much of the world
has to walk miles for clean water, we’re walking by on the other side.
When we invest millions in weight-loss programs to combat our epidemic obesity,
while every day thousands of African children die of malnutrition,
we’re walking by on the other side.
When Americans spend $13 billion – that’s a b – on cosmetic surgery while
5,000 children die every day of AIDS and malaria for lack of $3 mosquito nets
and access to drugs that save lives – Houston, we’ve got a problem.

We have the resources in the West to address the problems of famine, malaria,
AIDS, filthy water, lack of education, inequality toward women and children.
And in the West, we’re starting to wake up and cross the road.

One catalyst for change are the Millenium Development Goals adopted by
the United Nations in 2000.
I’m hoping that in September we will start a 5-week study of the MDGs and
how they are connected to our faith, the Bible, and our mission as Christians.
A variety of movements have coalesced around these goals –
one is the ONE Campaign To Make Poverty History, co-founded by Bono of U2,
a man who is harnessing the tremendous power of his celebrity
to become a real force for good in the world.
He has a knack for building bridges and getting all kinds of powerful people who
don’t usually associate with each other to partner for the good of the powerless.
And he’s good at getting people to part with their money and feel good about it –
his latest initiative is the (Red) campaign, a brilliant concept to use the power
of capitalism and consumerism to channel money to people in need.
He’s gotten multi-national corporations to create red versions of their products –
I-Pods, cell phones, sneakers – and when you buy the red version,
40% of the profits go to buy anti-retroviral drugs for AIDS patients in Africa.
So far it has generated $25 million, which is saving a lot of lives.
I don’t believe in product placements in sermons – although, there’s an idea for
income… – but I do suggest that you buy the July issue of Vanity Fair,
which Bono guest-edited and which focuses almost entirely on Africa,
the tremendous needs and the tremendous gifts of these neighbors we rarely see.

The call to equality and justice is deeply rooted in our heritage and Scriptures,
in the calls to economic justice in the prophets, and in the way Jesus taught
his followers to treat both their own money, and economic victims.
Many churches are responding – we have Episcopalians for Global Reconciliation,
which is helping more people work toward the Millenium Development Goals.
It is also connected to the ONE Campaign. The e4gr website is full of stories of
“What ONE church can do…” and “What ONE person can do….”
If we want to start crossing the road more, we’ve got a lot of company.

But the parable Jesus told actually goes much deeper than that.
Jesus invites us not into a new way of “doing,” but a new way of being.
Jesus throws in a twist at the end of the story – see you’d expect the answer to
the lawyer’s question, “Who is my neighbor?” to be, “The person who is in need.”

Instead, Jesus asks a different question at the end of his story:
“Which of these was neighbor to the man who was robbed?”
It’s not “Who is my neighbor?” It’s “Who’s being neighbor.”
He defines “neighbor” as the person taking the caring action, not the person in need.
Suddenly we’re in a different ballpark – we don’t look at the needs around us
and say, “Which ones do we have to meet?”
We look at ourselves and say, “How can I be the neighbor God is calling me to be?”
It’s a radically different perspective – it puts the emphasis on who we are,
not on what we do. The lawyer asks a “doing” question, “What must I do?”
Jesus asks a “being” question, “Which one was a neighbor to the beaten man?”
So let’s look at this Samaritan a little more closely,
and see what we can learn from him about being the neighbor.

Now, to be a Samaritan in Israel meant you were considered a low-life,
a heretic, someone outside the bounds of proper religion,
not to mention good taste and social acceptability.
This bad blood between Jews and Samaritans went way back,
even though they both worshipped the God of Israel.
Samaritans had gradually become defined apart from the Jewish people. They were
related – cousins, if you will – but cousins you didn’t speak to or mix with.

So in some ways, this story might be called the Tale of Two Outcasts.
The Samaritan, the model of neighbor, is a social outcast.
And the man who was beaten, robbed and left for dead, became an outcast
in terms of Jewish Law the moment he was beaten. According to the Law,
coming into contact with blood of any kind rendered you ritually impure.
Contact with a corpse was completely unacceptable.
The priest and Levite who passed by on the other side had obligations in the
temple that required their ritual purity. They couldn’t risk becoming unclean.
The man lying on the road was an untouchable –
and in this story, it took another untouchable to touch him.

So the Samaritan shared outcast status with the victim.
He didn’t see a victim; he saw a person.
As long as we think we’ve got our stuff together and we’re in control of our lives
and our security, we’re less apt to identify with someone in need.
They’re not like us; we keep walking, we don’t want to get too close.
To be the neighbor, we have to be willing to look at pain we don’t want to look at.
We have to be willing to deal with the outrage that rises in us
when we see the damage that human beings can do to each other,
to face the helplessness we feel when we see someone made helpless.
We have to be willing to feel the fear that arises in us when we see how random it is
that we live in relative security and affluence, while in other parts of the world,
through no fault of their own, people risk being shot when they go to the market.
“Where you live should not decide whether you live or whether you die,” –
yes, another line from another U2 song. But so true.

The Samaritan was willing to deal with the discomfort of looking at pain,
and doing what he could. Not everything. But all he could.
And he can teach us that a being the neighbor means putting aside our plans.
That man was on that dangerous road to Jericho for a reason –
most likely he was taking goods to the market, perhaps even the oil and wine
with which he washed out the man’s wounds.
He was a business man on a schedule. No market, no income.
But he stopped. He drew near. He tended. He put the man on his own
donkey and walked to Jericho, got him to a safe place and provided for his care.

We Americans tend to worship time and convenience above all else.
Jesus’ call to be the good neighbor is often inconvenient.

What makes a neighbor?
Opening our eyes more to the world around us. Seeing people, not problems.
Not being so concerned with our status or differences.
Being faster to put aside our own plans and agendas to meet the needs we can.
Being willing to put our own resources into meeting the needs we perceive –
sometimes at cost, or even risk to ourselves or our way of life.

Notice, there’s a whole lot more about “being” than “doing” in that list.
If we respond to this parable by feeling guilty, or by coming up with formulas
about who we will help when, we’re missing the point.
It’s not who we’re supposed to help or not help – it’s who we’re supposed to be.
The Word is very near you, on your lips and in your heart.
It’s not a law, it’s who we are becoming.

We can’t pick what needs we’re going to come across, or who we’re going to meet.
We can set parameters that make sense for our lives – as a single woman,
I’m not likely to stop and help a stranded motorist if there’s no one around.
But we can ask ourselves – is there anyone at work who’s lonely,
whom I can talk to or sit with?
Is there someone I know who is hurting, and I haven’t wanted to ask about it?
Sometimes we are called to be neighbors to people we see daily,
and maybe don’t like very much.

Jesus’ teaching here is not a command, but an invitation – an invitation
to move into lives that are more “other-centered,” more aware of needs.
Can we be aware of the needs around us all the time? No – we’d go crazy. We have
filters for a reason – we’d be overwhelmed if we took in all the pain of the world.
And yet that’s what we claim Jesus did on the cross – he let it all hit him,
all the sin and cruelty and hurt and loss and anguish and broken relationships
and broken promises of this world – he let it all hit him.
He became both the man robbed and beaten and left for dead and
the Good Outsider who stopped and put aside his own safety and comfort
to help humankind that could not help itself.

And because Jesus did that for us, we are able to be the good neighbor.
That’s part of what it means to be united with Christ in baptism –
it means we’re not alone on those highways and byways of life.
When we become aware of the power of the Risen Christ working through us –
we will be amazed at what we can do to address the pain of the world,
one step, one person, one church at a time.
We can begin to see with Christ’s eyes –
and suddenly the broken person isn’t so scary;
and suddenly we’re not helpless and overwhelmed,
but can see with Christ’s eyes what resources we have with us.
We receive Christ’s courage to approach the stranger and offer help,
Christ’s power to offer healing.

And we pray this in order that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and may please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God, being strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience, and joyfully giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the kingdom of light.

By the power of Christ in us, we can be the Good Stranger.
By the power of Christ in us, we are becoming the Good Neighbor.
By the power of Christ in us, we are.

Amen.

The eight goals – or MDGs – are:
· Goal 1: Eradicate extreme poverty and hunger
· Goal 2: Achieve universal primary education
· Goal 3: Promote gender equality and empower women
· Goal 4: Reduce child mortality
· Goal 5: Improve maternal health
· Goal 6: Combat HIV/AIDS, malaria and other diseases
· Goal 7: Ensure environmental sustainability
· Goal 8: Develop a Global Partnership for Development

2 Bono/U2, “Crumbs from Your Table,” from How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb.