SERMON FOR THE SEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST

TEXT: Luke 10:25-37

Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” He said to him, “What is written in the law? What do you read there?” He answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” And he said to him, “You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.” But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.’ Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

TITLE: A Geography of Faith

PREACHED BY: The Rev. Stuart R. Tucker on Sunday, July 15, 2007 at Carter Memorial United Methodist Church, Needham, MA.

I went on a tour of Israel back in 1985. One day we saw the Jordan River, stopped at Jericho, and then headed for Jerusalem. Our guide announced that we were traveling the Jericho Road, which is the setting for the parable of the Good Samaritan. I looked out the window of our bus as we went up the steep, winding road. It was very dry, rocky country, like the surface of the moon in some places.

A thought came to my mind as the bus snaked its way uphill. The parable of the Good Samaritan is the only parable in the gospels which is set in a particular location: the Jericho Road. Why is that? I had read many commentaries on this parable and I could not remember any of the commentators remarking on this fact. The idea came to me that for some reason, the location was important; that it somehow added meaning to the story.

Then another idea clicked in my mind. Earlier the tour guide said that this road was part of the route taken by pilgrims from northern Israel to Jerusalem. From Galilee they would go east to the Jordan, then south along the river bank until they reached Jericho. Then they’d turn west and walk the steep mountain road up to Jerusalem. In the first century they had to do this way rather than directly south because the territory of the Samaritans was in the way. Jews and Samaritans hated each other and Jews were loath to cross alien territory. This meant the Jews had to walk days out of their way in order to get to Jerusalem. Certainly, the worst part of that long trip would be the last leg, up that steep, desolate path where robbers would be lurking behind every boulder. Imagine how you would feel toward people responsible for your walking miles out of your way, and if part of that way was a steep, rocky, dangerous path. It is reasonable to suppose that Jews cursed the Samaritans along every dusty foot of the Jericho Road.

I cannot prove it, and I think it cannot be proven, but I believe this was why, out of all the parables recorded in the gospels, this was the only one that names a place. The place had a special meaning. That meaning may have been as a painful reminder that the promised land, the land God had given to the Jews, was at that time split in two. In the north was Galilee. To the south was Judea, with the holy city of Jerusalem. And in the middle were the hated Samaritans, planted there five hundred years before by the Babylonians. The Jericho Road would have been a centuries-old legacy of that foreign occupation.

A road can become a symbol of a community’s pain and sorrow. The Cherokees called the road to Oklahoma the trail of tears because so many died along the way as they were forced to march there by the U.S. Army. People who remember World War Two will never forget the Bataan Death March and the horror it represented. African Americans remember the Underground Railroad and the Freedom March to Birmingham as passages in their struggle toward freedom and equality.

It is possible for the symbolism of a place to evolve and transform itself over time.For years after the Civil War, Gettysburg was a symbol of our nation’s bloodiest conflict. Forty-three thousand Americans on both sides died in three of the bloodiest days of the war. For perspective, that’s about a dozen times the number of U.S. dead in Iraq over 5 years. Imagine what lingering wounds such a conflict would leave. On July 3, 1913 Confederate and Union survivors of the battle were brought back to Gettysburg to commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of the decisive clash of the battle’s final day: Pickett’s Charge. The aged Confederates, wearing grey, assembled at Seminary Ridge and reenacted their doomed assault on the Union line. This time there were canes and crutches instead of rifles and bayonets. As they came near the stone wall on Cemetery Ridge where the Union veterans waited they raised a defiant Rebel yell. A witness wrote that a great gasp came from the onlookers as the sound pierced the air. The account reads, "It was then that the Yankees, unable to restrain themselves longer, burst from behind the stone wall, and flung themselves upon their former enemies. The emotion of the moment was so contagious that there was scarcely a dry eye in the huge throng. Now they fell upon each other – not in mortal combat, but re-united in brotherly love and affection." It had taken fifty years, but Lincoln’s vision of malice toward none and charity toward all had taken hold on the field of Gettysburg that day, and the Civil War was finally over.

What the fifty year re-enactment at Gettysburg tried to do I believe Jesus tried to do with his parable of the Good Samaritan: transform a symbol of brokenness and division into a sign of healing and wholeness. The parable was told when a lawyer asked Jesus, "Who is my neighbor?" Jesus gave an answer in the form of a story. It was about a man who was on the road between Jerusalem and Jericho. Why that particular road? Why name any particular road at all? Jesus did not say, but anyone from Galilee who had ever been to Jerusalem would have known that road. They had to go that way to get to Jerusalem because of the Samaritans.

The man was attacked by robbers and left for dead. Two upstanding members of the Jewish religious elite, a priest, and a Levite, saw the wounded man on the road and walked around him. It is possible they did not want to touch him for fear he might be dead. Touching a dead body would have made them unclean, according to their holiness code, and they would have been unable to worship in the temple. So the man was left bleeding on the road. Then a Samaritan of all people happened along. He gave the wounded man first aid, got him to the nearest inn, and provided money for his recovery. At the end of the story Jesus asked the lawyer, who was a neighbor to the injured man? The lawyer answered, "The one who showed him mercy."

Jesus said to him, ""Go and do likewise."

We must understand what a radical command it is to, "Go and do likewise." Becoming a Good Samaritan means more than doing a good deed every day, like a Boy Scout. One can be selective about what deeds to do and for whom to do them. The Samaritan stepped over the boundaries that separated him from the wounded man. He treated an enemy like a brother. Jesus tells us, "God and do likewise." If we would follow his command then we, like the Samaritan, would find ourselves in places we would rather not be, dealing with people we’d rather not be around.

A lot of us like to think of our life as a spiritual journey. It is a journey that can take us on different types of roads. Some of us were once unbelievers, and have experienced a sudden conversion experience. You might call this a Damascus Road experience, referring to the sudden conversion experience of the Apostle Paul. Others of us have had faith renewal experiences in which a shaky, or dead faith comes alive again. You might call this an Emmaus Road experience, referring to the two disciples who encountered the risen Lord on the road.

But these road trips would have no lasting meaning by themselves. Faith must be translated into action. The priest and the Levite in Jesus’ parable were certainly men of faith, but their faith did not prompt them to action. If we would avoid their example then someday our Damascus Road or Emmaus Road needs to intersect with a Jericho Road. This is when our faith is made real through acts of mercy. This is the cross-shaped intersection where we find the meaning of Great Commandment to love God and love our neighbor.

Faith joined with mercy has the power to turn a place that was a symbol of hatred into a monument of love. That place might be our own home. It might be our community. Sometime it may even be our church that has been torn by divisions. Whenever we encounter dividing walls of hostility we have the opportunity to create a Jericho Road event. May we be empowered to hear Jesus’ example of the Good Samaritan, and obey his command to go and do likewise.