Pentecost 7
Year C
July 11, 2010
Deuteronomy 30:9-14
Colossians 1:1-14
Luke 10:25-37
He lay in the ditch hovering on the edge of consciousness. Every part of him hurt. His mouth tasted of blood.
It had all happened so quickly. The gang of thugs had stopped him on the road, demanded his purse and he gave it to them. Then, they had beaten him unmercifully. He wasn't sure why.
Maybe they didn't believe that the denarii he carried was all he had. Maybe they just enjoyed watching people suffer.
He tried to push himself up, but couldn't. He just didn't have the strength. His arms felt like rubber, his legs like lead.
He heard someone on the road. His heart raced. Was it the bandits returned for more?
No.
It was just one person, shuffling along toward Jerusalem. Joy filled him! He was saved!
But, the person just – passed – by. He listened as the sound of the sandals faded into the distance.
Didn't the traveler see him? Didn't he hear his moaning? Couldn't he perceive his need?
He drifted into unconsciousness. Some time later, he was roused again by footsteps upon the road.
Once more, hope blossomed only to be disappointed. The traveler passed him by.
But, why? Why?
Life can leave us feeling pretty beaten sometimes, can't it?
Every day, I hear stories from people who feel battered by life. Who feel stripped and robbed, and left half-dead along the roadside.
It seems like troubles come in bunches for some people. Illness upon illness. Crisis upon crisis.
I know there are a lot of people here this morning who are wrestling with all kinds of difficult things.
Sickness.
Problems at work.
Family issues.
It can be overwhelming sometimes.
And people pass by you every day completely unaware. They seem to be looking, but cannot see the depth of your struggles or the pain in your face. And we begin to wonder if anyone really cares.
The reality is: we can identify with the man in the ditch. We know what it means to be beaten down. We know what it means to yearn for someone, anyone, to reach out to us with even an ounce of compassion.
Of course, that's not true of everyone here.
I would guess that some of you are sitting here this morning thinking, “Well, Pastor Mike, my life is pretty good right now. I am really blessed.”
Well… Then thank God for that!
But the truth is… the absolute truth is… eventually that will change.
Eventually, the challenges and trials and troubles of life find us all. Eventually, death finds us all.
At some point in all our lives, we will need some compassion. At some point, we will all need some care.
At some point, we all need a savior. Don't we?
A third time the beaten man heard noise upon the road. Footsteps. And the clinking of a bell on an animal's neck.
But, hope had long since faded. He had long since given up. No one really cared. He felt abandoned. Forsaken. Alone.
But, the footsteps stopped. The bell silenced.
And, suddenly, someone is there.
Leaning down. Checking for signs of life. Touching face and hands with a cool, wet cloth. Pouring water on cracked lips. Whispering, “It's OK. I'm here. Don't worry. I'll take care of you.”
He opens his pain-fogged eyes slowly. Who is this one who cared enough to stop?
A Samaritan. A Samaritan?! Really? How could that be?
But it didn't matter. Not one bit. Not one bit.
Did you know that there is one who leans down beside us when we're feeling beaten down along the road of our lives?
I know. Sometimes we feel hopeless, abandoned, forsaken, alone. Like no one… not even God… cares.
But, there is one whose compassion knows no limits and whose care knows no bounds.
There is one who was willing to give of himself – in fact to give his whole life – so that we might have our lives restored.
And that one is, of course, Jesus Christ our Lord.
He is the one who shows ultimate mercy.
The One who died on a cross – an awful death, – and rose again on the third day, so that we might know that there is nothing in heaven nor on earth that can destroy us.
No illness.
No crisis.
No tragedy or challenge.
There is one who knows the depth of our hurts and our pains – even when everyone else walks by oblivious to them.
That is the promise of our faith.
That is the promise of our Lord.
And sometimes – especially when we are in the depths of pain and despair -- that can be hard to feel. But, in those moments, just believing it is true has to be enough… it has to be! And it is… though it is usually only in retrospect – when the fog has cleared – that we see that clearly who has cared for us.
As I read the Parable of the Good Samaritan I wonder sometimes what happened to the man from the ditch. Of course, Jesus' story doesn't go there.
But, I could imagine that the Samaritan's mercy changed the beaten man.
I could imagine that the man never looked at someone in need quite the same way ever again.
I would guess that the one who received mercy became merciful.
That's how it works. Or at least that's how it should work.
You see, the question the Lawyer asked Jesus was the wrong question.
The question is not, “Who is my neighbor?” but “What does it mean to be a neighbor?”
Because if the love of God and the love of neighbor are inextricably connected – which this text implies -- then the love of neighbor can never be any more selective or restrictive than God's love is for us.
To love the neighbor means to risk extending the mercy we ourselves have received whenever and wherever we have the opportunity.
So, who is my neighbor?
The One who showed me mercy.
And the one who needs to know Christ-like mercy through me.
Amen.