July 15, 2007
(Seventh Sunday after Pentecost; Proper 10)
The Parable of the Compassionate Hated One
By The Very Rev. Terry White, Dean
Amos 7:7-17 • Psalm 82 •
Colossians 1:1-14 • Luke
10:25-37
(From
The Lectionary Page)
Robert Martin Walker, a United Methodist minister turned full-time writer, has written an amusing little book called Politically Correct Parables, published in 1996, which continues to enjoy popularity. The rationale for Walker's book is to show the contrast between the values of our presumably "politically correct" culture and the teachings of Jesus in the Gospels.
The story of the Good Samaritan is renamed "The Generosity-Gifted Samaritan." In his retelling of "The Good Samaritan," Walker has Jesus ask the lawyer who was present, "Which of the three persons was the most sensitive to the male Jewish person's needs?"
The lawyer at first answers, "I wish I could have found that injured person myself and sued those morally indifferent persons", but then reluctantly gives the correct answer, "The one who was generosity-gifted."
When Jesus tells him to "Go and do likewise", the lawyer immediately runs down to the Jerusalem-to-Jericho road and begins looking for victimized persons (potential clients) so that he could enhance his income. (From web search for Politically Correct Parables, Feb. 22, 1998, R.M. Fewkes.)
As Canon Sommer mentioned in her homily a few weeks ago, in order to understand the power of this parable we must understand how much the Jews despised the Samaritans. Those who heard Jesus tell this story would have been shocked and repulsed to hear that a Samaritan was the hero.
So invite us to try to tap into the power of this homily. Replace the Samaritan with someone you might be embarrassed to admit that you despise. This isn’t the same as thinking of someone’s whose politics are diametrically opposed to yours, or an advocate of social policy you absolutely do not agree with, or a particular bishop in the Anglican Communion you are not happy with. Don’t even think of a member of the Denver Broncos. Think of a person or a group that causes you to have feelings you know you shouldn’t have, who you despise, who causes hate to well up inside.
Here’s my attempt, which I guess is also part confession.
An American in the Middle East was mugged one evening, beaten, and left for dead. Two clerics, ministers of God in their respective faiths, on their way to lead prayer services, passed by on the other side of the road keeping their distance from the injured person who was barely breathing.
Luckily, a third person stopped to help. He was thought to be a member of Al Qaeda. He treated the wounded American, bandaged the wounds, and literally carried the American to an emergency room. He left a bag of money to care for the treatment, and promised the attendant to come back soon, and pay for any charges that the bag of money did not cover.
Who was a neighbor to the beaten American?
Surrounded by many supporters, interested onlookers, and most certainly spies for the Pharisees, Jesus told this story commending the compassion of a hated Samaritan as fulfilling God’s command to love one’s neighbor. The very thought that a Samaritan could be an example of how to follow God’s law was repugnant.
The phrase “compassion of a Samaritan” sounded violently untrue to those who heard Jesus, just as the phrase “a compassionate member of Al Qaeda” sounds blatantly false to us. When we hear a person we despise praised for some act, our teeth clench, our anger builds, and often, we spout off if not lash out. And we will have no part in such blasphemy.
Picture dozens of people yelling at Jesus, walking away, or now agreeing with his opponents, that he was dangerous and had to go. Imagine a rock or two thrown anonymously, curses and threats hurled, too.
We must accept the challenge to wrestle with why Jesus told such an inflammatory parable.
In this situation of a horribly beaten man fighting for his life at the edge of the road, the righteous past of both the priest and Levite meant nothing to the half-dead man, nor for that matter did the blasphemous, sinful past of the Samaritan mean anything. What mattered was what each did. Two did nothing. One did something. And not even the lawyer who asked Jesus, “Who is my neighbor” could deny that the Samaritan set the example that every godly person should follow.
This parable is about our response to God’s lavish grace and love which has been freely given to us. Daily we are to show mercy, to do compassion. At every opportunity, compassion must motivate and lead us, and over-rule other concerns.
Compassion is at the heart of this parable. Literally, the word for compassion is in the very middle of this text: 68 words precede it and 67 words follow it. (R. Carlson, New Proclamation, Year C, 2004, p. 137)
With this parable, Jesus makes it pointedly clear that you and I are to do compassionate things when it makes no sense to do so. Note that Jesus does not promise a magic bubble of protection when we do the godly thing. Our Lord knew that being compassionate opens one up to risk. At any point while the Samaritan was offering aid, someone might have come along and seen the situation and accused him of harming the injured man himself. The Samaritan’s trial would have been swift and his sentence sure and final.
Jesus accused the establishment of apathy when describing the first two people on the scene - respectable, honored leaders, who did not act as neighbor to the injured man. Our Lord was proclaiming that God’s vision for a restored and redeemed creation requires that all people incarnate compassion. It was the same thing the prophet Amos saw when God showed him a plumb line. Compassion makes things right, and straight, and true.
A final point. Canon Herbert O’Driscoll writes:
Had the Samaritan ceased to help at any stage, he would have been excused for having done more than enough. He had already exceeded the social norms by binding up the man’s wounds. Then he displayed immense generosity when he took the man to an inn. And he went even further by accepting future responsibility and promising to pay additional expenses.
In our society, the real challenge is not the casual hand-out. Most of us manage this without much thought. It is the acceptance of long-term responsibility for care – be it personally in a family or corporately as a community – that deeply challenges us. (The Word Among Us, p.53)
We need to commit to the long haul.
The priest and Levite chose ritual purity as their response to those injured. Think about how the Church chooses purity today over embracing those injured and abandoned by our teachings our practices. We cannot continue to walk by while God’s children are lying broken at the side of our roads.
The Samaritan saw the injured man and responded with pity, the opposite reaction of the religious folks. The Samaritan accepted ritual pollution as he bound up the wounds of the injured man. He provided transportation to a safe place, lodging where he could recover, and money to pay the innkeeper. Not the Samaritan’s personal safety, the need to protect his possessions, or preserving ritual purity influenced his actions. His primary, overriding concern, was to come to the aid and meet the needs of another human. We, too, must free up our resources and free up our hearts and minds so that compassion can flow freely and abundantly. We must commit to the long haul.
What is central in our lives as Christians, and must be central in our life as a cathedral community, cannot be personal preservation or religious purity. In spite of various dangers and traditional boundaries we are called to place primacy on our duty to love God in concrete acts of mercy and in works of love towards those In need. Here is the most radical answer to the question, “Who is my neighbor?”
Let this parable challenge us anew to accept a long term commitment to “doing compassion.” Our calendars should reflect this commitment, our parish budget should clearly proclaim this commitment, as should our own checking accounts.
The lawyer in essence asked Jesus, “Given all that is going around me, what should I do?” Jesus responded with tough compassion: Come on, man. You know what you should do. Now do it.
