Over these past Sundays of Pentecost, we have been hearing from the Gospel of St. Luke. The theme is of our being called to discipleship, of how it is now our responsibility to spread the Good News. To tell the world of the beauty and comfort found through believing in Jesus Christ.
We have been reminded of how Jesus sent out the twelve disciples, empowered with authority over demons, the ability to heal the sick, all as they proclaim the good news of the nearness of God’s kingdom.
In chapter 10 Jesus sends out 70. Seventy - the mission is broadened, and the number of missionaries goes beyond the twelve.
At the very least 70 means a lot of people sent to a lot of places. This time the 70 are sent out in pairs. No one is sent out alone. There is work for everyone to do, and best we team up with someone else to do the work Jesus sends us to do.
We are, all of us, people who are sent. Jesus needs us. The church needs us. The world needs us to accept our role as those who are sent.
Today, we hear the lawyer’s question and the very familiar answer - at least familiar to us Anglicans.
Jesus calls us to a committed way of life that places Him first and everything else second. A faithfulness which is reflected in all that we say, in all that we do in all that we are. Jesus wants us to set our priorities on the most important areas of life. Those are - loving the Lord our God with all our mind, with all our soul, with all our heart and to love our neighbour as ourselves. When this comes first, then everything will fall into place.
A few Sundays ago, we heard about those types who respond to the call to discipleship. Those who said "no" immediately. Those who said "yes" immediately. Those who said "yes, but…" With the last of these types, we were also told that if we had answered the call without the but part Jesus would "fix up" the excuse for us so that we could effectively carry out His Will. I wondered about that a great deal. Then, like the proverbial light bulb, I had the answer. Look at what happened to the lives of the fishermen, the tax collector, the Twelve who dropped everything and followed Jesus. They were given the power through the Holy Spirit, to heal and to travel the known world preaching the Word - spreading the Good News. The side effects of their job may leave a lot to be desired, but, nevertheless, they obeyed and we can be more than thankful that they did.
This commitment takes dedication, it takes faithfulness, and it takes a mindset to follow through. It is not easy, however, in the long run it will be rewarding as you and I spend eternity with the Lord. And in the short run living in this commitment will give meaning and purpose, comfort and strength, guidance and courage as we walk the faith journey.
And now we have the Good Samaritan story. This story always causes me some discomfort. Not so much about what the Samaritan did, or what the two others did. The discomfort came after I learned that in the time of Jesus, Samaritans were social outcasts. They were not accepted by the Jewish society. They were considered unclean. Just as the priest and the Levite considered the wounded man unclean, so, too, were the Samaritans considered unclean by the greater society. And, just a few Sundays ago, we read that it was the Samaritans who rejected Jesus call to discipleship. These facts took something away from the deed done by the "good Samaritan".
Where was the "good" in what the Samaritan did? If he was a no-account to begin with, what did he have to gain by showing compassion for the state of the man he found by the roadside? After the good deed was done it would not change his status within the community.
Well, the truth of the matter is, he did not have anything to lose by tending to the injured man. He had nothing to lose. He did have something to gain, however. He gained a place in God’s scheme of things. Despite the Samaritans place outside the society of the time, despite the rejection of Jesus by the larger Samaritan community, this Samaritan’s compassion gained him a rightful place - it gave him a better chance for a room in our Father’s mansion.
I am reminded of chapter 25 in Matthew where we learn that we serve Jesus whenever we feed someone who needs to be fed, that we serve Him whenever we clothe someone who needs to be clothed, etc. I am reminded of this because of a homily I heard once where the preacher questioned if he may have met God when a young man approached him on the streets of a large city. This young man was apparently down on his luck. He had fallen into hard times such that he had to go begging in the streets.
This question always comes to my mind when I see someone who appears in a similar situation, too. It is difficult today to always know how to react. Do you pick up that hitchhiker? Or do you pass him by because he might be the one who attacks you and robs you and leaves you on the roadside to die?
Obviously, we know what Jesus would have done. We know what Jesus would do.
As Christians, we are commanded to love our neighbours as ourselves. The degree to which we carry out this responsibility lies, perhaps, in what our definition of "neighbour" is. If we believe that our neighbour is the person next to us, then we serve God by picking up that hitchhiker or by handing that person on the street a few dollars.
If we take the much broader definition of neighbour, then we serve God in a much larger community. This response is not difficult at all. We act swiftly when we see of a community that has been devastated by an earthquake, a flood, or such like. We pour out our compassion when a family has been left homeless because of fire, or whatever. We have nothing to lose. We may even get a closet cleaned out because of this demand for help.
The difficulty arises when we are confronted by a need that could directly affect us. The difficulty arises when we are confronted by a need that causes a sacrifice on our own part. When we are in a position of some risk. Then our Christianity is truly tested.
Picture if you will, someone you find particularly hard to deal with: an overbearing boss, a self-righteous relative, and an especially rude neighbour. If we are honest, we have to admit that we set limits on whom we love. Less dramatically, we allow considerations of who are currently in or out of power, or who is part of our group or an outsider, to determine whom we will love.
To love one’s neighbour is to abolish all boundaries, all divisions. It means seeing things from the other person’s point of view and responding to that without regard to outward appearances. The parable of the Good Samaritan shows this.
The lawyer who questioned Jesus most likely knew that the law could be summarized as loving God and loving neighbour. Jesus challenged him:
"You have answered right; do this, and you will live."
(Luke 10:28)
That challenge is for us, too. But rather than try to justify ourselves, let us cry out, "How? How can I possibly fulfill what God intends, that I love even those whom I find objectionable?"
This is the response Jesus seeks. How often - like the lawyer, the priest, and the Levite - we try to reduce God’s command to love to something less than it really is. We want to hold on to restrictions that rule out situations that make us uncomfortable or stretch us beyond our natural abilities - situations that call for some sort of sacrifice on our part.
So we drive past the hitchhiker. We pass by the person who asks for a few coins. We don’t always go to the person who may need to receive the love of God.
But we live in the hope that when we do answer the call - when that certain some one reaches out - that we react in a good way to that need.
We know that Jesus is calling for something far greater than we can accomplish on our own.
Only in Christ can we truly love others, or wholeheartedly love God.
Therein lies how much of a Christian we are.
Amen.
