We’ve heard two readings from scripture this morning, one of which may be quite unfamiliar.
I will touch on both of them, but my sermon this morning isn’t based on either of those texts.
The reading will come shortly, but I would first like to invite you on a little journey with me.
While I was sitting with the passage for today, I found a painting by James B. Janknegt. It’s quite wide, almost a mural, except it appears to be painted over four panels in portrait orientation.
I apologise it’s not on your printed service sheets, I didn’t want to give the whole picture away from the get-go. But you see, it tells a story, and we’re going to step our way through.
I would like to invite you to use your imagination. God enjoys making the world of scripture come alive in our imagination.
So take a moment, and now imagine that today you are on your way to church. If you usually walk, you’re walking; if you usually drive, you’re driving, but imagine you’re driving slowly, which is a little incongruous, because you left the house a little later than you normally do.
So perhaps maybe you’re a little flustered or feeling a bit hurried. But I think we can make it in time.
Anyway, you’re on your way and notice a bicycle coming your way at speed. Must be one of those e-bikes.
As they get closer, you notice something a little strange. A man is riding the bike, and a woman is sitting on the back like a pillion passenger. She’s got an arm around him, and in the other arm she is clutching her cargo, a whole outfit of clothes and a stash of paint brushes and paints.
It’s really quite a haphazard armload, and as they go past, some of it escapes her grasp and drops to the ground.
It’s such a curious scene. By the time you think about calling out to them that they dropped something, they’ve turned the corner and are gone.
Very strange. Are they an artist couple late for a sitting? Or maybe Kids Church leaders with supplies for this morning’s kids’ worship? That must be it.
You realise in your incredulity you’ve been travelling extra slowly. Time is marching on. If the stuff is still there after church, you decide you’ll gather it up and leave it in a neat pile in case they come back for it.
As soon do you turn to look at where you’re going, you see another strange sight.
An ordained minister, complete with robe, purple stole and collar, bread for communion, and a staff with a cross, dashes across the road.
You don’t recognise them, though. They’re not heading to the Village this morning, but they do look to be in a hurry. If you’re feeling pushed for time, imagine how late they must be! No wonder they looked so serious.
You don’t often see someone all robed up in all their formal church gear running down the road.
Shaking your head in wonder, you carry on. You’re getting closer to the Village now. You glance at your watch. You can make it if you keep going.
The sound of music reaches your ears, you look up and see a younger fellow who looks like he’s been taking hair styling tips from Jesus. Dressed in sandals and flare jeans, he’s also moving quickly, but in a cheerful, almost casual way. Strumming on his guitar and singing.
You recognise the tune. He’s playing 10,000 Reasons, we sing that at the Village. Perhaps he’s a music leader for one of those relaxed, contemporary-style congregations. Full of the joy of the lord, he disappears around the corner, and the music fades.
Sunday mornings are usually pretty quiet getting to church, but what a morning this has been. You’re almost there. You glance at the time; You’re going to make it.
You wonder if anyone will believe when you tell them what you saw on the way to church this morning.
Then you wonder if God is speaking through this strange series of sightings.
And then you’re there, standing outside in front of the steps on the corner of Ilam and Aorangi Road.
You’re about to go up when something catches your eye about 20 metres further up the road. Something is lying on the footpath up ahead. As your eyes focus, you gasp! You can’t quite believe what you are seeing. You are completely shocked.
The shape is a man. He’s lying there motionless on the footpath up ahead; he looks to be unconscious. But he’s also stark naked!
A bit taken aback, you nevertheless take some steps closer. There’s a canvas on the ground next to him, and his hands are locked around something… something colourful, is it flowers?
GASP, it’s paint brushes he’s holding paint brushes! He’s an artist. He is THE artist
The people on the bike… they weren’t artists or kids’ church leaders. They were muggers! They’ve attacked this poor fellow and taken everything he had!
That explains the art supplies and the clothes the lady on the back was clutching!
Then it dawns on you that you are not the first to survey this dreadful scene of injustice.
That ordained minister. That young music team leader! They marched straight on past this man. Did they stop? Did they call an ambulance?
Did they offer a prayer for him? They could have gotten someone from the Village, there at least may have been a blanket. Presbyterians have a long history of social action and care.
This is all happening in an instant. You hear someone calling your name. It’s the welcoming team at the door of the Village.
You motion to the awful scene, but it’s just out of view for them.
You thought you’d seen everything today. But when you look back at the poor man,
You see someone kneeling beside them. Are you imagining this because it’s not in the picture on the screen?
You see someone kneeling beside them. They’ve taken off their coat and laid it on the man, and you can see they’re on their cell phone.
You feel a sense of relief. You stare mesmerised, who is it, that would be such a Good Samaritan?
They lift their head for a moment and meet your gaze. You’re blood runs cold. You’d recognise that face anywhere.
It’s them. Of all people, it’s them. That person who makes your blood boil. The person who, in your books, is the worst human in the world. You wouldn’t use the word hate, not out loud, but the indignation churning in your stomach maybe hints at something else.
You can’t believe it’s them! Why would they help? They’ve never helped anyone. After everything they’ve done. After all the people they’ve hurt. What are they even doing here? How is that even physically possible?
Who is that person for you?
…Are they your neighbour?
I think you may have recognised the story.
I’ll read it from Luke Chapter 10:25-37:
An expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” He said to him, “What is written in the law? What do you read there?” He answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind and your neighbor as yourself.” And he said to him, “You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.”
But wanting to vindicate himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and took off, leaving him half dead. Now by chance, a priest was going down that road, and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, while traveling, came upon him, and when he saw him, he was moved with compassion. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, treating them with oil and wine. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him, and when I come back I will repay you whatever more you spend.’ Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”
Perhaps the parable of Jesus is so well known, you could see through my attempts to dress it up differently. My story, like Jesus’, is a parable. It’s made up. I know if something like this happened for real, we Villagers, and all the other churches, would be right in the thick of it, helping.
But we have heard these stories so many times, it is so hard to hear like you’re hearing it for the first time. To experience the shock of Jesus’ words.
It’s not so much about the one who needed help as it is about the one who helped them.
For Jesus’s listeners, the words Good and Samaritan, do not go together in a sentence. We have plenty of evidence from first-century writings of the animosity between Jews and Samaritans. The distrust goes right back to the time, even before our Old Testament reading.
Many of the people of Samaria also traced their whakapapa to Abraham. They were the people of the 10 northern tribes of Israel who, when conquered by Assyria, were assimilated and, with other peoples, their new overlords settled in the land.
Isn’t it interesting the hyperlinks, if you will, our Old Testament reading has to Jesus’ Parable, in the Northern Israelites from Samaria, who recognise their own injustice, and seek to alleviate their wrong. They return their captives, clothe the naked, dress their wounds, and carry them on their donkeys’ backs to Jericho.
Even though Jesus’ story is fiction, it seems the Samaritans did know how to show compassion to their Jewish neighbours. Jesus is saying the question, “Who is my neighbour?” is nonsensical. For Jesus, ‘Human’ and ‘not my neighbour’ are the two terms that cannot exist beside each other.
Jesus is concerned with what sort of person we are and what sort of person we are becoming. We are never too young or old for Jesus to remake us in God’s image.
Jesus is intent on expanding our horizon about who our neighbour is.
This parable will not permit us to avert our eyes from a world scarred by war and injustice. Even if the other heavenly beings in God’s Divine Counsel turn to corruption, like in our Psalm reading, this Parable’s wisdom will not permit us to do the same.
This is summed up in a comment made by a journalist 25 years ago, covering the genocide then unfolding in Darfur: They said, “Where is the piety in reading the Bible and averting our eyes from genocide?”
Who is my neighbour, Jesus? Everyone, even your sworn enemy.
We see this Parable in action in the way God dresses our wounds, covers up our shame, and restores our life.
We, too, like the rest of humanity, had gone our own way. Confident in our wisdom, that we have the answers, that we know best, deluded into thinking that we are the centre of the universe.
That while we were still estranged from God, Enemies, Jesus came and showed us how to heal. Christ died and took the blows of the robbers, if you will. Christ rose, disarming the powers of chaos, injury, and death, and seeks to rob us of our true human image.
All to make us God’s friends.
His love compels us to make friends with others.
All that sounds good. Holy even. But surely, this can only be true in theory, right? Many have pointed out that living according to this wisdom is dangerous. It may even put us in harm’s way.
Let’s be clear, I am not suggesting we throw ourselves at the mercy of dangerous people. That does not bring us closer to the resurrection life of Jesus.
There are also many situations, whether close to home or around the globe, where we seem powerless to bring healing and life. How do we love our neighbour when we are separated by a wall of legislation, culture, or geography?
This parable is not prescriptive; it is not a blueprint for every situation we find ourselves in. It does not teach us HOW we are to love our neighbour, but it does teach us that we ARE to love our neighbour. We cannot be passive, disinterested, or self-absorbed.
Loving our neighbour as ourselves is difficult. But that is what followers of Jesus are called to do. There is no alternative. We need God’s wisdom, insight, and empowerment to help us discern how we work this out in our everyday lives.
It is an invitation to stay in conversation with God of love and compassion with all our Heart, Soul, Mind, and Strength. To continue and let that divine love speak to us and guide us, and bring us home to our true humanity in God.
That is the path to life.
Amen