Sermons

Many years ago, there was a study was conducted at Princeton University designed to figure out the conditions under which good people would act for good, or at least be generally helpful. Two psychologists asked a group of theology students to walk to another building on campus to give a short speech, either about their motives for studying theology or about the biblical parable of the Good Samaritan. Meanwhile, the psychologists had arranged for an actor to be stationed on the path between the two buildings, slumped over, coughing and obviously in bad shape. The two experimenters had also led half the students to believe they were late for their speaking appointment, while telling the other half that they had plenty of time.

So, what do you think the responses were? Who was most likely to help: those with the story of the Good Samaritan uppermost in their mind or those thinking about the motives for studying theology? There was a significance difference between groups, but it was not along the lines of speech content, whether they had the Good Samaritan in their minds or not. The content of the speech made no difference. About the same number of Good Samaritan speakers and theology motivation students stopped. What did make a difference was how rushed the students thought themselves to be. Only ten percent of those led to believe they were running late stopped to help. Of those told that they had plenty of time, sixty percent stopped to help. It was those who had time, that drew nearer to their neighbor, to focus not on themselves but on the person in need.

It’s funny how we tend to label one another, isn’t it? The title of this Biblical story is the “Good Samaritan.” But why did the Samaritan need a descriptor? Were there bad Samaritans? Dr. Karoline Lewis says, “Was the Samaritan good because he actually saw the guy in the ditch? That could be it. After all, this is a main theme in Luke. Jesus sees whom others overlook and Jesus asks us to see those we might easily pass by. Was the Samaritan good because he was moved with pity (had compassion on him; had mercy on him; Psalm 25:6)? Was the Samaritan good because he went to the beaten man and bandaged his wounds? Was the Samaritan good because before bandaging the left-for-dead man’s injuries he poured oil and wine on them? Was the Samaritan good because he put the ditch-guy on his very own animal? Was the Samaritan good because he brought him to an inn and took care of him? Was the Samaritan good because the next day he took out two denarii, equivalent of two paydays, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him?’ Was the Samaritan good because he said, ‘when I get back I will repay you whatever more you spend.’ Was the Samaritan good because he did all of the above? What if the Samaritan was good because he simply made the choice to come near the almost dead guy in the ditch? To approach him? To decrease the distance between him and the man clearly in need of help?”

Honestly, I think we can put “good” in front of any ethnicity or religious background in this story if they decided to be the most loving person and help the injured man. I think the Samaritan was good for one reason, and one reason only. He made the choice to draw near, to come near to the beaten up and left for dead man in the ditch. The Samaritan made the choice to approach him, to decrease the distance between him and the person needing help. The Samaritan drew near to his neighbor despite the ethnic difference, the racial difference, the theological difference, the geographical distance, the inconvenient distance, the health and wholeness difference. That is what it means to bring salvation to the world.

Why does being a “Good Samaritan” seem to describe an extraordinary act of labor and love? What if Jesus’ command to “go and do likewise” meant that our day-to-day lives demand that we draw nearer to our neighbors at all times? It is time that we live our lives, each and every day, in the spirit of the Samaritan helper. We must draw nearer. We must draw nearer to the crying refugee child on the concrete floor. We must draw nearer to the black transwomen who are afraid for their lives here in Dallas. We must draw nearer to the homeless individuals and hear their stories. We must draw nearer to women as they try to tell their truth above the clamoring of powerful male voices. We must draw nearer to people living in the black experience so that we can heal racial tensions and bring racial equality. We must draw nearer to the Muslim American who values the constitution which says all people are free to worship. We must draw nearer, as the Samaritan did, even though he was a different religion and ethnicity, to one another… to help each other, love each other, listen to each other, provide for each other, tend to and care for each other. We must draw nearer to our neighbors!

Church, what if that is what heaven is like? What if that is what salvation is supposed to be? Maybe the kingdom of heaven is actually living out nearness to our neighbors here on earth. What if drawing nearer to people different than us is actually what Jesus taught us to do and to pray when he said, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth, as it is in heaven.” It is our job as followers of Jesus to not let distance keep us from being the hands and feet of Christ in the world. We know that’s not what Christ did when he touched the dead and dying, raising them from their ailments. We know that’s not what Christ did when he dined with sinners, letting them know that they could share the same table as him. We know that’s not what Christ did when he healed the woman of a bleeding disorder, receiving her closeness and her touch, giving up his power so that she could stand up straight in health and wholeness. We know that’s not what Christ did when he drew near to the demon-possessed, knowing that he must be close to the demons of the world to vanquish them and bring light and love. Christ didn’t let distance and difference keep him from bringing life. Christ drew nearer to his neighbor.

You know, we try so hard to keep people at a distance, don’t we? We live in a time when we have an overabundance of alarms and locks; when we drive down our alleys only to pull into our garages to avoid saying hello to one another; when we roll up our windows and lock our car doors when a homeless person is standing on the corner with a cardboard sign; when it’s easy to go out of our way to avoid those who are made in the image of God. I mean, here in North Texas we sure do like our privacy fences.

But we still see people suffering in our very state and in our very city every day. We see images on the news and we think it has nothing to do with us. We value our safety and our security and our self-preservation and our self-care. And that’s understandable. But most of the time we distance ourselves from things that challenge us because we are determined not to change. Isn’t that it? We resist getting out of our comfort zones and going into the hurt and pain and desperation in the world. We resist intimacy with people who are different than we are because our transparency might expose who we truly are. The Levite and the Priest didn’t draw near to the man, bloody and beaten and in need, because they would’ve had to face some hard truths about themselves. They would’ve had to reveal that they care more about their religious structures and purity laws than the people whom God created. They would’ve had to reveal that they were pretending to be holy people and that they didn’t love people who were less than holy. They would’ve had to reveal that they thought the “other,” that certain people, shouldn’t exist and that certain people didn’t matter. Drawing nearer to your neighbor means that you will have to come to grips with your biases and prejudices.

Dr. Lewis continues that, “Your neighbor is not just the person living next door – in a house you never have to enter, into which you might never be invited, to whom you never have to speak. Your neighbor is not one who happens to be convenient for you to help. Your neighbors are not those whom you can keep in their place. Your neighbor is not the one who meets the qualifications of your company. Your neighbor is someone who, without a doubt, is experiencing pain, struggles, challenges, and sorrow, and yet to whom you draw near. Your neighbor is someone who clearly has needs and you decide – I will help you. Your neighbor is someone who might even resist your assistance but you insist on it anyway.”

Many years ago, a man named Joe Edwards told a story of when he was a young man in his twenties working as a salesman for a St. Louis piano company. They sold pianos all over the state by advertising in small town newspapers and then, when they had received sufficient replies, they would load their little trucks, drive into the area and sell the pianos to those who had replied.

Every time they would advertise in the cotton country of Southeast Missouri, the company would receive a reply on a postcard which said, in effect, “Please bring me a new piano for my little granddaughter. It must be red mahogany. I can pay $10 a month with my egg money.” The old lady scrawled on and on and on that postcard until she filled it up, then turned it over and even wrote on the front – around and around the edges until there was barely room for the address. Of course, the company could not sell a new piano for $10 a month. No finance company would carry a contract with payments that small, so they ignored her postcards.

One day, however, Joe Edwards happened to be in that area calling on other replies, and out of curiosity he decided to look the old lady up. He found pretty much what he expected: The old lady lived in a one room sharecroppers’ cabin in the middle of a cotton field. The cabin had a dirt floor and there were chickens in the house. Obviously, the old lady could not have qualified to purchase anything on credit – no car, no phone, no real job, nothing but a roof over her head and not a very good one at that. Her little granddaughter was about 10, barefoot and wearing a feed sack dress.

Joe explained to the old lady that he could not sell a new piano for $10 a month and that she should stop writing every time she saw the ad. He drove away heartsick, but his advice had no effect – the old lady still sent the same post card every six weeks. Always wanting a new piano, red mahogany, please, and swearing she would never miss a $10 payment.

A couple of years later, Joe owned his own piano company, and when he advertised in that area, the postcards started coming to him. For months, he ignored them. But then, one day when Joe was in the area something came over him. He had a red mahogany piano on his truck. Despite knowing he was about to make a terrible business decision, he delivered the piano to the old lady and told her he would carry the contract himself at $10 a month with no interest, and that would mean 52 payments. He took the new piano in the house and placed it where he thought the roof would be least likely to rain on it. He admonished the old lady and the little girl to try to keep the chickens off of it, and left, sure he had just thrown away a new piano. But the payments came in, all 52 of them as agreed – sometimes with coins taped to a 3×5-inch card in the envelope. It was incredible!

Joe put the incident out of his mind for 20 years. Then one day he was in Memphis on other business, and after dinner at the Holiday Inn he went into the lounge. As he was sitting at the bar having an after-dinner drink, he heard the most beautiful piano music. He looked around, and there was a lovely young woman playing a very nice grand piano. Being a pianist of some ability himself, he was stunned by her virtuosity, and moved to a table beside her where he could listen and watch. She smiled at Joe, asked for requests, and when she took a break she sat down at his table. “Aren’t you the man who sold my grandma a piano a long time ago?” It didn’t ring a bell, so Joe asked her to explain. She started to tell him, and suddenly Joe remembered. It was her! It was the little barefoot girl in the feed sack dress!

She told Joe her name was Elise and since her grandmother couldn’t afford to pay for lessons, she had learned to play by listening to the radio. She said she had started to play in church where she and her grandmother had to walk over two miles, and that she had then played in school, had won many awards and a music scholarship. She had married an attorney in Memphis and he had bought her a beautiful grand piano. Something else entered Joe’s mind. “Elise,” he asked, “What color is your piano?” “It’s red mahogany,” she said.

That is what the Good Samaritan story beckons from us today. We are asked by Jesus to stretch ourselves, to go off the beaten path, to traverse the ditches of the world and lift up those in need. And when we choose to do that we are, in turn, assisting Jesus. Don’t you remember what Jesus said? “‘Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.’”

Jesus was basically saying in that Gospel of Matthew text that those who drew nearer to others in need were the sheep and those who isolated themselves and ignored others were the goats. And to be a sheep, drawing near to God and to one another, is the ultimate goal. That is what it looks like to receive eternal life. Eternal life, salvation, comes near when we draw nearer to our neighbors, when we commit to closeness, when we desire for less distance, and when we have a need for nearness. When Jesus said, “Go and do likewise,” he was saying to draw nearer to your neighbor. So, we must do the same. Go and do likewise.

Amen.