15 OT C Lk 10:25-37 ~ "The Jericho Road" ~ Susan McGurgan, D. Min.

Who is my neighbor?

The scholar in this passage

asked Jesus this question because,

like all of us,

he knew that loving others is often hard,  

even under the best of circumstances.

I mean,

if we’re completely honest,

sometimes,

it’s hard to love our own family—

those wonderful,

      exasperating,

            occasionally dysfunctional folk

who share both our DNA 

and our Nona’s recipe for Tomato Surprise.

And despite our best intentions,

loving the eccentric Cousin Louie’s in our lives

can be tough—

even heroic work.

Contested wills,

     Complex holiday schedules,

            Lingering memories of childhood drama and trauma….

“Loving”

can make us want to throw in the embroidered,

Home Sweet Home towel

and cry “Uncle!”

And friends?

Colleagues?

Neighbors?

Can you say,

“Politics.

     Competition.

          Property Line Issues?”

You get the picture.

Love my neighbor as myself?

This might be possible,

if we closely define the term,

“neighbor,”

carefully guard the parameters,

and have a home security company on speed dial.

Teacher, who is my neighbor?

You can’t possibly mean the criminal in jail

or the weirdo down the street.

Surely,

not the immigrant at the border,

the gang that bullied my son,

trans people,

tax cheats,

environmental polluters,

heretics, atheists, the “other” political party—

the doctor who botched my diagnosis.

Who

Exactly

are my neighbors

and what

precisely

do I owe them?

The story of the Good Samaritan

challenges us to look

beyond

of our narrow circle of family and friends

and embrace the stranger as neighbor.

It invites us to see “community”

in a larger,

more inclusive,

and yes,

riskier ways.

But the problem is,

we are almost completely removed

from the powerful impact of this story—

separated from it

by a vast gulf of culture and language and time.

We don’t gasp in dismay. 

We don’t feel our blood pressure spike.

We don’t

clutch our pearls in shock

or cringe at the thought of a Samaritan

held up as “Good;”

as an example to follow

or a hero to admire. 

And every time we hear this story

of a Jew beaten and robbed on the Jericho Road,

and the Samaritan who stopped to help,

it becomes a little more

familiar,

a little more

comfortable,

a little more

tame.

Yet,

for the scholar who asked Jesus,

“Who is my neighbor?”

the words, “Good” and “Samaritan”

were an oxymoron—

a figure of speech that places         

contradictory or opposing terms

in conjunction for ironic effect--

something like “jumbo shrimp”

and “open secret.”

In his world,

there WERE no “Good” Samaritans.

There were only

Despised Samaritans.

Ugly Samaritans.

Bad-Terrible-NoGood-Rotten Samaritans.  

The mistrust between Samaritan and Jew

was centuries old,

rooted in the unholy triad

of history, politics, and religion.

It reached back to the Captivity,

and by the time of Jesus,

was as certain and as predictable

as the sun, rising in the east.

And so,

in addition to challenging us to see

“neighbor”

in larger terms,

this story reminds us

that the Gospel is –

or at least it should be—

sharp-edged and challenging.

It should cut deep into our prejudice.

Slice open our blinders.

Poke holes in our own importance

and invite us into a new way of being.    

The Gospel should make us gasp a little

and clutch our pearls

every time we come up for air.

It holds out an invitation

to embrace a vision of life and community

that hurls us into a risky landscape

where some things turn sideways

and others,

upside down.

If we can read scripture

without being astonished—

If we can hear these stories

without being surprised,

convicted,

and often confused;

It may be we are no longer really listening.

Or it may be we have heard the message so often

that its rough edges are worn smooth

and the radical surprise has dulled.

Who is my neighbor?

Who must I love?

The answer is never safe,

but then

safety

isn’t really the goal of discipleship, 

is it?

If we want to discover

answers

to the questions,

“Who are my neighbors and what do I owe them?”

we must have the courage to follow Jesus

down the Jericho Road…

and find out.