June 19, 2005

Views from the Side of the Road

Deuteronomy 30:9-14
Colossians 1:1-14
Luke 10:25-37

There's a cartoon I saw that has a pastor in the pulpit making this statement to the congregation: "We interrupt the announcements about the church fair, the Women's Fellowship, the Men's Group, and the upcoming board meetings to bring you a brief message from our sponsor." Sound like us? Not that all these happenings aren't important, but sometimes we let things that are auxiliary or peripheral or organizational take precedence over the main reason we're here, that is, to worship God. This is why, though we've heard it many times, it's good to hear again the familiar parable of the Good Samaritan, the kind of story that helps us focus on what's really important in our church life and in our personal lives.

Today, we'll look at this story from several vantage points and pay attention to the various characters and how they fit into the story, "views from the side of the road." Let's begin by imagining the scene: a rocky desolate road that winds around for about 17 miles, dropping 3400 feet from Jerusalem to Jericho, a road infested with highwaymen who hide in the dark crevices of the rocks, waiting for innocent victims to come along. And along this dreary road come the characters in our story.

First is the victim himself. We'll come back to him in more detail shortly, but we need him now to help set the scene. He is probably a Jew, perhaps a merchant on his way from Jerusalem to Jericho, traveling the only logical route available, yet one filled with known dangers. Foolishly, he's traveling alone, a ready target for the robbers lurking in the shadows. And out they jump, perhaps two or three of them, scruffy, unkempt men, the dregs of society, we would guess. Who knows what drives such people to lives of crime? Is it the lure of easy riches with little chance of getting caught? Or, perhaps the poverty they live in? Have they been oppressed by those in political power? Did they have warped or deprived childhoods? What about negative influences from the culture? Or are they just nasty characters? We really don't know. But I'm guessing their philosophy is: "What's yours is mine, and I'll take it if I can." This is a philosophy still witnessed today in our "gimme, gimme" society. The bandits enter the story quickly, do their foul deed, and then disappear to continue on their way with no regard for their victim, left behind dying by the side of the road.

The man has been mercilessly beaten and stripped of his money and his clothing. He's lying in a crumpled, bloody heap by the side of the road, moaning, crying out for help. And then, O thank God, a priest is seen coming down the road. Priests represent the highest religious leadership among the Jews, pious, holy men who help the people understand the law and the prophets' teachings. I imagine the priest is deep in thought, perhaps saying his prayers as he walks along. As a revered holy man we'd guess he is relatively safe from attackers; they will leave him alone. So, his mind wanders as he walks along, dwelling more on heavenly matters than the rough stones beneath his sandals. But suddenly, as he rounds the bend, he is snapped out of his reverie by a gruesome sight and hideous sounds. There by the side of the road is a man, obviously half-dead, begging for his help. Immediately the priest's religious training kicks into gear, but not as we would think. It is not compassion for the victim that is foremost in his mind, but the religious taboos associated with cleanliness - not touching blood or a corpse. The victim's not dead yet, but no sense taking any chances, and he surely is bloody. So the priest, ignoring eye contact, walks by on the other side of the road, head bowed, muttering his prayers, pretending he has seen and heard nothing. Have you or I ever gone past a person in need, and closed our eyes to the situation, pretending it just wasn't there? I suspect at times we've shared that priest's attitude.

"So likewise a Levite" comes down the road. These are also deeply religious men, sort of lay-associates of the priests. Perhaps this day the Levite is trying to catch up with the priest ahead of him. In any case, he's in a big rush. He comes upon the horrible scene, and has to make a quick decision. He does so, and passes by on the other side. Like the priest, the Levite's philosophy could be summed up: "What's mine is mine, and I'm going to keep it." He really doesn't have time to stop and help his wounded brother; there are other matters more pressing, more important. And he's not a wealthy person; how could he possibly afford to take on such an expensive burden? Besides, it's risky getting involved. He could become a victim himself. Or maybe he'll be sued for medical neglect if the wounds aren't treated just right. Better to walk by - on the other side. I suspect at times we've shared the Levite's attitude also.

By now the victim is full of despair. He was sure these holy men would help him, but they haven't. Moments later another figure appears around the bend, and the victim recognizes in an instant from his foreign-looking apparel where this person comes from. He's from Samaria; he's a Samaritan. In spite of his agony and pain, our victim feels deep revulsion stirring within him, even hatred. Samaritans were looked down upon by Jews for many reasons, the antipathy going back centuries; the two peoples did not often interact with one another. Our victim is sure this Samaritan will also pass him by on the other side. But instead, he stops and helps him. The Samaritan has to know that the man he is helping probably loathes him. He has to be aware of the risks he is taking - if something goes wrong, he'll be the logical scapegoat. He also is probably busy and has other things to do and places to go, but he feels deep compassion and stops. Using oil and wine (ancient medication) and bandages made from his own clothing, he tends to the victim's wounds, and then placing him on his own animal, takes him to an inn, and cares for him there. When it is time for him to move on, he gives the innkeeper enough money to provide for him for close to a month, enough time for him to recover from his injuries. Contrary to the self-centeredness of the other two, the Samaritan's philosophy is: "What's mine is a gift from God, and I'll share it with you if you need it." His response to the victim on the Jericho Road is a model for the ages, an example of true caring and compassion. Our Good Neighbor, Sam the Samaritan, does three things, each relating to the letters SAM. First, he sees - not just a bloody heap by the side of the road, or an intrusion on his schedule (as do the priest and Levite) - but he sees a human being like himself. "What if I were him?" he must be thinking. He sees a need and does not overlook it. Second, he acts - not out of duty or a sense of obligation, but solely out of compassion and caring. He doesn't just contemplate the man's predicament, feel sorry for him, and continue on his way. He does something tangible; he acts. And third, he mobilizes other resources. He knows he can't help the victim completely by himself, so he engages the services of the innkeeper, and holds him accountable for caring on his behalf. (i) He sees, he acts, and he mobilizes resources.

Finally, let's turn again to the victim himself. What is his view from his side of the road? We can imagine the pain he's in - it has to be excruciating - from lacerated skin, pummeled body, and broken bones. He puts up a fierce struggle, but the odds are too great. He is broken, bloodied, beaten, and defeated. He is treated by his adversaries with contempt and callous disregard. And, those from whom he expects to be helped walk by on the other side. It's devastating! After they ignore him he is disillusioned and depressed, and he awaits the inevitable end. He's not capable of helping himself; he can hardly moan because he is so weak. In such a vulnerable state, his philosophy, if he could speak, would be: "I have nothing to give you, but I need you!" What about his expectations? Prior to his misadventure, the victim does not expect anything like what happens to him. He expects to travel on the road as he's done many times, and he expects to arrive safely in Jericho. He assumes that such tragedies only happen to others. After his attack he expects help from the priest and Levite. When they don't help him, the situation seems hopeless. Then comes the Samaritan, from whom he does not expect (nor want) any help. Pride and prejudice are stronger than the pain. Yet he receives what he doesn't expect - mercy, caring, and compassion - and what a wonderful surprise that is. Do his prejudices vanish after this encounter? We'd like to think so, but we really don't know. I hope they did.

We've come to the end of the story, but I'd like to make a few more observations. What we've done in looking at the parable this way is to enter someone else's story. This is what empathy is all about - "self-conscious awareness of the consciousness of others." (ii) We also travel down that Jericho Road; at times we may be the victim, sometimes we're those who ignore the need, sometimes we're those called to be the neighbor, and sadly we may at times be the ones who cause hurt and misery and pain. We can relate to each of the characters in the story on some level, especially to the victim and to the Samaritan. Many of us have felt the pain of the victim, the loneliness, the despair. We've been in that ditch, left alongside the road - perhaps some of us are still there. But if we're going to completely empathize with the victim, then let's be sure to remember the surprise he receives; he doesn't expect to get help from the Samaritan, but he does. This is what the kingdom of God is all about - the surprising grace of God. God's grace comes to us when we may not deserve it, and often when we least expect it.

As we consider God's grace we naturally think of the Good Samaritan. We all need to receive help at times, and we all need to give help. We help others because they need it; we love because God first loves us. We live today in a confusing, complicated world. From Jesus' parable we learn that caring for others begins with seeing - seeing the common humanity we all share with sisters and brothers in need. To overcome the apathy, paralysis, and perplexity of this complicated world, we also must act - to feed and clothe and visit and care - however best we can. And we must mobilize our resources with those of others, and support systems and institutions in our society, like the church, that can translate our simple caring into effective programs of service, justice, and peace. (iii) We're reminded that God gently guides and directs us to become better neighbors, when we reflect upon the words of the Deuteronomist, who wrote: "Surely, this commandment that I am commanding you today is not too hard for you, nor is it too far away. ... No, the word is very near to you; it is in your mouth and in your heart for you to observe."

Not only can we do it, we must do it, we must see others in their true humanity, and act in caring ways toward them, not under coercion nor out of a sense of duty, but because of love and compassion, inspired by God's love for us. Martin Luther King Jr., the great prophet of our time, spoke these words over 30 years ago, but they're still relevant today: "More than ever before ... [people] of all races and nations are today challenged to be more neighborly ... No longer can we afford the luxury of passing by on the other side. Such folly was once called moral failure; today it will lead to universal suicide. We cannot long survive spiritually separated in a world that is geographically together. In the final analysis, I must not ignore the wounded man on life's Jericho Road, because he is part of me and I am a part of him. His agony diminishes me, and his salvation enlarges me." (iv)

And Jesus asks, "Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?" He replies, "The one who showed him mercy." Jesus says to him, "Go and do likewise." And this is also Jesus' word to us - go and do likewise. Amen.

The Pilgrim Church of Duxbury
Rev. Kenneth C. Landall

i Peter Weaver, Word & Witness, 7/20/80.
ii Pulpit Resource, 7/20/80.
iii Word & Witness, op. cit.
iv Martin Luther King, quoted in Word & Witness, op. cit.