Sermon for July 13, 2025
Pentecost 5 C
Luke 10:25-37
Rev. Karl-John N. Stone
When you hear the phrase “Good Samaritan”, what comes to mind? Probably something along the lines of a bystander who comes to the aid of someone in trouble. 48 states have “Good Samaritan” laws, which are designed protect people who attempt to help from getting sued if their efforts don’t work or make things worse. I came across this description of the benefit of Good Samaritan laws from someone who served for many years on a volunteer ambulance service: He said, “Had it not been for Good Samaritan laws I never would have joined. I was willing to go out in the middle of a stormy night to help a neighbor, but not if I’d be placing all of my assets at risk in the event of a bad outcome. Same for all the other volunteers.” [https://www.quora.com/Why-was-the-Good-Samaritan-Act-passed-in-law-and-for-whom] I think we’d all hope that if we were the person injured in a ditch, that someone would come to help us in our hour of need. But since there is no legal requirement for a bystander to offer aid, these special laws encourage people to be “Good Samaritans” and offer help to a neighbor in need.
The ironic thing about that phrase “Good Samaritan” is that it prevents us from feeling the full effect of the famous parable that Jesus told. So here’s a little background to put it in context. Back in the time of Jesus, his culture had a three-tiered society. At the very top were the priests. Priests were the ones responsible for leading worship in the Temple, offering sacrifices and prayers on behalf of the people, and teaching them the Law of Moses. In the middle of the hierarchy were the Levites. They supported the ministry of the priests by doing special jobs like guarding the sacred objects in the Temple, playing music and leading songs in worship, preparing the sacrifices, or cleaning the sanctuary. And then the third level of the hierarchy was the Israelite layperson—basically everyone else who was part of that society. [Thomas Keating, Meditations on the Parables of Jesus, p. 90-98]
The gospel of Luke sets the scene: “An expert in the law stood up to test Jesus.” This is right after Jesus has sent out the 72 disciples to tell people that the kingdom of God has come near, and to be guests who received hospitality in whatever town they entered. We don’t know why this scholar of religious law wants to test Jesus. Maybe he was one who did not welcome these disciples when they came to his town. In any event, he’s not a supporter of Jesus, and he’s looking for a “gotcha” moment. Jesus evades the lawyer’s test by agreeing with him, that yes, you inherit eternal life by “loving the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, strength and mind; and by loving your neighbor as yourself.” The lawyer still thinks he can get the better of Jesus, so he offers one final test “And who is my neighbor?”
Now Jesus tells the parable. A traveler on the twisty, rocky road from Jerusalem down to Jericho is ambushed by robbers, who strip him, beat him, leave him for dead, and take off. First comes the priest, who sees him and crosses to the other side of the street. Then comes the Levite, who does the same thing. What is left unsaid, but would surely be known by the scholar of religious law, is that priests and Levites would be considered ritually unclean if they touched a corpse; then they wouldn’t be able to fulfill their duties in the Temple. However, the man who was beaten was merely “half-dead” not fully dead. If they had simply checked on him, and asked “how are you? Do you need help?”, they could have found this out—and they would have known that it was their religious and moral obligation to help the man, and fulfill God’s law to love their neighbor as themselves.
Now the story has built up to the punchline. Jesus has already indicted the two highest rungs of the social order for not loving their neighbor. The lawyer and the other folks standing around and listening would now be expecting someone from the third rung of society—someone like themselves—to pass by. And this person would now be set to become the hero of the story, for helping the poor man in the ditch. A great reversal of expectations! And maybe those who are listening are thinking: Surely the priest and the Levite knew they should have helped, but doesn’t it take a good common person like ourselves to really get the job done?
However, Jesus goes and turns the tale into an even more shocking reversal of expectations. The next traveler to come by is not someone like themselves, but a Samaritan! Now, because of how deeply this parable has seeped into our cultural mindset, whenever we hear “Samaritan” we automatically think “a good person who is caring and compassionate”. BUT…in the world they inhabited in Jesus’ time and place, a Samaritan was the very definition of a bad person! Samaritans were considered outsiders, heretics, enemies who were completely corrupt and no good.
Rather than a hero’s story, they would have heard this turn in the tale as a horror story! According to the prejudices of their time, a Samaritan is a horrible person, and this poor traveler who’s half dead by the side of the road should not be relieved but afraid for what little shred of life he has left. Very afraid. But what happens? This Samaritan—this enemy, heretical, outsider, bad person turns out to be caring, compassionate, and generous. And the people are left wondering, who are we supposed to root for? Because this parable doesn’t give us any good choices. The priest, the Levite, the Samaritan? We don’t like any of them, and “our own kind” don’t even warrant a mention. But irony of ironies, it is the Samaritan of all people, a “bad Samaritan” who was “good enough” to fulfill God’s law and show mercy.
This is the challenge of faith that Jesus presents to them—and to us—for loving the Lord our God and loving our neighbor as ourselves. The Israelites of Jesus’ day are not the only ones who’ve kept a strict account of who’s one of us and who’s an outsider, who’s good and who’s bad, who’s worthy of respect and who’s okay to insult and look down upon. Such an attitude is a feature of our fallen human nature; and sadly, we don’t have to go far to find it in our own day and age. We can even find it within ourselves. I’d venture to say that we each have a “Samaritan”—a person, or a type of person, who we think couldn’t possibly have anything good to offer.
This parable challenges us to realize that God’s grace spreads much wider than we give God credit for. God’s grace is even for the outsider, the despised person. And when Jesus went to the cross he became that outsider, that despised person. Crucified on a rocky hill outside the city walls, he became a spectacle and a warning for all who dared defy the ways of the world. He was despised in his shame and, even though he was innocent, he died the death of a criminal. And he did that because God’s grace is available even there, in the cross.
When we look at the cross of Christ with the eyes of faith, what was once a symbol of shame and punishment becomes a symbol of grace and love. And that means God’s grace is available for everyone—the Samaritan, and that scholar of religious law who tested Jesus. For the man left half-dead in the ditch, and for the robbers who left him there in their cruelty. For the priest and the Levite who passed by on the other side of the road in their indifference. God’s grace is for my enemy, and God’s grace is for me. And the question to ask, for anyone who wants to grow in experiencing God’s grace is not “who is my neighbor?” but “how can I be a neighbor?” Answering that question is how the Holy Spirit starts changing us from indifference, prejudice, and cruelty towards care, compassion, generosity, and human connection. I can be a neighbor, because Jesus has already been a neighbor to me. Amen.