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 OUR CHURCH: Sermons
Sermon Given on the Gospel of Luke 10:25-37 Grace and Peace to you from God our Father and Mother and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen. Who is my neighbor? Suppose that Jesus were here to ask you that question right here and now? How would you answer the question? Would you qualify your answer? Could you respond in equal love - this one and that one and that stranger over there? This is one of the most challenging questions that Jesus confronts us with in scripture. And, the question could not be more relevant today. Let's begin by exploring a bit about the Gospel lesson we've just heard read. What do we know about the route this poor man took from Jerusalem to Jericho? Well, first it was not a safe route. Indeed, it was a notoriously dangerous road and has remained so through much of its history. Jerome tells us that in the fifth century it was called the Red or Bloody Way. And in the early part of the 20th century a certain Abu Jildah was known to hold up cars traveling along the route, stealing from travelers and tourists alike. Indeed Jesus emphasizes the unsafe nature of this route by telling us how our traveler was set upon by brigands or bandits who stole from him and beat him. Generally, travelers taking this route would travel in groups or a caravan to assure a certain level of safety. And what do we know about this traveler? It would seem that this fellow may not have been too bright a lad, or at the very least careless, perhaps even reckless, for having traveled alone on this unsafe road. At some level, one might suggest that he had no one but himself to blame for his unfortunate circumstance. Or, was he simply an unfortunate victim of circumstance - caught at the wrong place and the wrong time? And then there is the priest, my colleague, who walks right by the traveler laying half-dead. Here is a man who has been held up by his community, called to do the right thing in all places and at all times, and yet he passes the wounded traveler by. Perhaps he thought the fellow was actually dead and knowing that, were he to touch a dead body, he would have been considered unclean and therefore lost his opportunity to serve in the temple. So, rather than sacrifice his privileged position, he sacrificed moral judgment. Quite literally he chose the privilege of participating in and being seen as a part of a religious ceremony over helping one in need of charitable assistance. He was too busy to even stop and risk the consequences. Then comes the Levite, who seems to pause and take a look at the wounded traveler, but perhaps unsure if this might be a set-up, a decoy to distract him from his journey, leaving him vulnerable to attack by bandits, he too decides to move on and leave the half-dead traveler laying there. And then we meet the Samaritan. As Jesus told this story, the listeners must have surely thought that something dastardly was about to happen as Samaritans were not a community of people that the Jews of the time would have had anything to do with. They were essentially untouchable to the Jews for they were considered unclean, heretical, and breakers of the ceremonial law. And yet it is this man, who we find takes pity upon the wounded traveler. And finally, there is the innkeeper who takes the financial risk of allowing the wounded traveler to stay on at the inn on the promise that the Samaritan will return and cover his expenses for allowing the wounded traveler to recover. He must have been a trusting man, for he trusted the word of the Samaritan, who in turn must have been one who kept his word and therefore was worthy of that trust. I suspect that each of us knows someone just like the characters in this parable. We all can think of people in our lives who are reckless and careless like the traveler, or who are victims of unfortunate circumstance. We all can think of those who are concerned more with privilege and appearances than sacrifice, or charity and hospitality like the priest in the story. We all can think of those, who like the Levite, seek to play it safe rather than take the risk and get involved. Perhaps if we look closely into the mirror we might even recognize something of each of these characters in our selves? How many of us would dare to take the risks of being like the Samaritan? How many of us would dare to allow ourselves the risk of being moved to great pity to the depths of our very being, enough to help another in a state of crisis - perhaps even at great risk to ourselves? How many of us would allow ourselves to be so vulnerable? How many of us even would dare to take the risks of being like the innkeeper and trusting that another, someone we perhaps barely know would actually fulfill their commitment to our sacrifice? These are weighty questions that challenge us to consider our own moral character and the way in which we interact with each other and the way we interact with the stranger. Jesus asks each of us the same question he asked the lawyer in the story. "Which of these was the neighbor to the wounded traveler who fell into the hands of the brigands?" Which of us could be the neighbor to the wounded traveler? Or, which of us might be like the priest or the Levite? Who is my neighbor? Who is your neighbor? Suppose that Jesus were here to ask each of us that question right here and now? How would you answer the question? Would you qualify your answer? Could you respond in equal love - this one and that one and that stranger over there? Some years ago, I awoke in the middle of a cold and snowy night to a wrapping at my front door. Against the advice of my partner, I went down stairs and opened the door. There stood a young man holding his hand and dripping blood onto the snow. He told me that he had been attacked by a small gang after he had left a neighborhood club. I quickly took him in and brought him upstairs to the bathroom, cleaned his wound and bandaged it. I asked him if I should call the police and he protested. I asked him if he would like to rest awhile and he said that he would be fine to go. He thanked me and went back out into the night. Had I been a good neighbor, or had I been reckless and careless like the wounded traveler who journeyed on the Bloody Way? Had I done the right thing, or had I put myself and my partner at risk? Who is my neighbor? Who is your neighbor? I have lived in my neighborhood of Columbia Heights in northwest for 26 years now. Many of you know that it is bounded by 16th Street on the West, Sherman Avenue on the East, Florida Avenue on the South and Otis Street on the North. Four years ago in August, I began to worry about my next door neighbor of 23 years whom I had not seen in a week. We barely spoke to each other for most of the years that we lived adjacent to each other. Carrie, at age 84, and with little education, often would not speak to me, perhaps shy, perhaps resenting my presence in her neighborhood. It is a part of the apparent conflict that arises in the city when two peoples of different eras, economics, cultures and ethnicities live shoulder to shoulder, especially in gentrifying neighborhoods like mine. Twenty six years ago, when I moved to this community, I integrated the neighborhood. Now, like many of my old time neighbors I often ask the question, where did all these white folks come from? When I was ordained to the priesthood, it seemed that my stock went up with Carrie and she suddenly found it OK to address me and even engage me from time to time in conversation, albeit speaking to me through my dog! Still, she refused, despite advancing years to enter into any meaningful kind of relationship. And then in August of 2006, worried that she had not been seen, I found myself banging on her door to see if she was OK. She often didn't answer the door when I knocked, so her silence was not unusual. Three times throughout the day this was repeated by my brother until I finally called the police. And then, at five that evening, she was found laying on the basement floor, badly decomposed, having died a week earlier. How had we failed each other as neighbors all those years? Who is my neighbor? Who is your neighbor? And then there is the homeless man who sat on Connecticut Avenue in a tree box not far from the corner of Q Street, NW. He was often quite listless and half asleep from the heat or the cold. His flesh badly scarred, mottled and burned. His shirt and trousers torn. Great patches of hair on his head have fallen out from incessant scratching perhaps because of lice. I could barely look at him when I passed, it was so painful. And yet each time I passed I was troubled by my failure to stop. I am ashamed that in this story, I am like the priest in our gospel lesson this morning! Who is my neighbor? Who is your neighbor? There are a reported 12 million undocumented immigrants in this country. Most are struggling to survive and eke out a modest living. Many live in situations of multiple families or individuals, sleeping in shifts, in housing that was intended only for single person or family occupancy. We see them every day, they are among us. They wash dishes at the restaurants that we eat at, they do the laundry in the cleaners we take our laundry to, they clean houses, they do yard work, they dig ditches, they build our houses and workplaces, they work in the Giant and at CVS and in a myriad of other places, some many of us would not even be remotely interested in working. There are those among us who fear their presence. At some level, they have become scapegoats for much of what ills our nation. Who is my neighbor, Jesus ask us? And what about the least among us, whose very being is threatened by the political expediency of policy makers who seek to balance budgets on the backs of the poor, the disabled, the under-educated, those of live on the margins of society? Are they not our neighbors too? We enter into relationships, as a nation, that suit our geo-political, economic, and military interests, but do we stop to really think about the consequences of those relationships, not only for ourselves but for the people of those nations? Do we find ourselves acting as the priest, hurrying by a nation and a people in distress as we certainly did before the earthquake in Haiti? Or do we, like the Levite, stop to see how much damage has been done, even offer seemingly meaningful rhetoric in international institutions, but refuse to pause and take serious hands-on action as in Darfur? Or do we choose to be as the brigands on the roadway between Jericho and Jerusalem and uninvited create havoc in the lives of unsuspecting peoples as in Iraq or Afghanistan at great consequence to their sons and daughters, not to mention the thousands of sons and daughters of our own? Who are our neighbors? Who is my neighbor? Who is your neighbor? Suppose that Jesus were here to ask each of us that question right here and now? How would you answer the question? Would you qualify your answer? Could you respond in equal love - this one and that one and that stranger over there? Could you respond to Jesus that you like the Samaritan have shown mercy to your neighbor? Could we as a nation respond that we have shown mercy to least amongst us, to the struggling peoples around the globe? Could we honestly answer that we have loved the Lord our God with all our heart, and with all our soul, and with all our strength, and with all our mind; and our neighbor as ourselves? As we heard in our Collect for this morning, Grant of Lord, that we may know and understand what things we ought to do, and also have the grace and power faithfully to accomplish them; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen!
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