#012: A Far Better Samaritan

The Fifth Sunday after Pentecost, or the Fourth Sunday after Trinity (Proper 10)

Readings Deut 30:9-14; Ps 25:1-14; Luke 10:25-37

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Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash

This parable (Luke 10:25-37) requires a modern-day Ugandan retelling. I will do just that.

A man was walking down a deserted, pot-holed road in a dangerous neighbourhood. The robbers interested in his belongings attacked him. They beat him up and left him for dead as they made away with his phone and laptop bag.

In the morning, Sunday morning, a priest, (or pastor—whatever suits you) was driving down the same route. Through the car window, he saw the man lying by the roadside, half-dead. He thought about his plans for the day: his parishioners were waiting for him.

This priest had spent the best part of the week preparing his sermon. He had translated it straight from Koine Greek to English. He had adequately done word studies of the key terms, and literally and grammatical analysis of the text. He had also contextualised it and then went ahead to turn his exegesis into a homiletical masterpiece. He now had a sermon.

The priest had spent the whole of Saturday rehearsing and preaching it to his wife and then finetuning it. It was near perfection. He could not wait to preach it. And that Sunday was the day.

As he looked at this dying man, he thought about his church. All those people who may die in their sins if he doesn’t get to church to preach that sermon. He thought about what God could do through his sermon, and how many souls could be saved. He decided to leave the man by the roadside and instead drive up to his church.

Then came a lay minister also going to his church. He was riding a brand-new Bajaj Boxer. When he saw the unconscious man lying on the ground, he stopped. But then he thought about his boss, the priest, who will need him for the smooth running of the church service. He was indebted to his boss for the opportunity to serve the church. He didn’t want to disappoint him.

So, he fired up his motorcycle and rode off.

The third man came. He was neither a priest nor a lay minister. He was a foreigner. He was hated in this country, and no one wanted to associate with him. His people were referred to as ‘dogs’, not worthy of a seat at the table. The people in this country did not even want to share their religion, much less their God with these foreigners.

For years, he and his people had been discriminated against, called ‘half-breeds’, sinners, and polluters of a pure and divinely chosen race.

When this hated man approached the one who was dying, he felt pity on him. He felt pity for one who hated him.

He came out of his car, went to the boot (the trunk, whatever), and got out his first aid kit. He cleaned his wounds and bandaged him. He then carried the man, laid him in the backseat of his car, and drove him to the hospital.

When he got to the hospital, he asked the nurse to examine the man and admit him. He then proceeded to pay all the medical expenses. He did not stop there, because the man was so weak to go home, the ‘foreigner’ booked him into a hotel, and paid for a couple of nights until the sick man is in good condition to go back home.

The ‘foreigner’ then told the hotel attendant that any extra costs should be charged to his credit card.

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It is after this story that Jesus asked, “Which of these three do you think became a neighbour to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” (v. 36). The expert in the law (theologian) answered that the neighbour was one who had mercy on the dying man. Jesus then told him to “Go and do likewise.” (v. 37b)

Jesus’s demand to “Go and do likewise” has two implications for us. First, it points to the impossibility of the demands Jesus makes of us; and two, the possibility of human flourishing here and now. We will look at each of these briefly.

First, the demands Jesus makes of us are hard, and most of the time, impossible. The parables, you see, point to our inability to do what we should be doing and to God’s ability to do those things on our behalf. The Samaritan here is Jesus, the ‘outsider’ who miraculously invades our world by way of a virgin’s womb. “Now the Word became flesh and took up residence among us” (Jn 1:14).

This outsider dressed in an insider body, like the Samaritan dressed in Jewish culture, and customs, and living on Jewish land was also rejected by his people. St. John tells us that “He came to what was his own, but his own people did not receive him” (Jn 1:11). This Jesus nonetheless dies to save all, even the ones who rejected him, those who betrayed him with a kiss and 30 pieces of silver, even those who denied Him three times before six in the morning.

The one who is a better Samaritan is God in flesh, we are the dying man. He saves us from the blows of sin, the flesh, and the devil by paying the ultimate price without requiring anything of us. Not even a ‘thank you’ note.

This better Samaritan also secures lodging for all those he has saved in the house where his Father is the innkeeper. He pays for it with his blood.

Secondly, the possibility of human flourishing. “Go and do likewise” is a call to be and do like Jesus. It is important to point out that the context of ‘doing’ here is Jesus’s doing, not ours. In other words, ‘to do likewise’ is to do like Jesus, learning from him.

A common misconception is to think that ‘doing likewise’ (v. 37) is what gives us eternal life (v. 25). That is far from the truth. Eternal life comes from trusting Jesus alone (you already know that). It is important then that we accurately situate Jesus’ imperative to ‘go and do likewise’.

Like I have said before, we do not work for salvation, rather we work from it. Whatever we do is a result of the salvation we already have. Jesus saves us by being the better Samaritan so that we can go out there and be good Samaritans to the wounded and beat-ups. Jesus’s work, therefore, enables human flourishing. It allows us to go out there and risk it all for the next person.

Paul says that Jesus brings waring and hostile parties together by breaking down the walls those two groups build so that they can maintain their loveless relationship (Eph 2:13-14). When the ‘dividing wall of hostility’ between the Jew and the Samaritan breaks down, the Samaritan can now take a risk on a person who has hated him without reason. Even where is a reason, Jesus bridges the gap.

The priest and his lay minister could not clearly see the dying man because they had put obligations their before him. In not seeing the man, they failed to see his need because until we see someone (recognise/acknowledge their presence), we cannot put a finger on their need.

How many times have we justified our self-centeredness with a laundry list of things that were waiting for us to do? We have plans, appointments, daily schedules, dates, etcetera. Anything that gets in the way of your witness is not for you but against you. Otherwise, it’s sad that we give prominence to things while walking on people. We love things and use people when it should be the other way round.  

We also like to do things that will benefit us. I think the business people call it ‘a return on investment’. What benefit would there be for the Samaritan in helping the Jew? I mean, the person he is helping already hates him. The Samaritan does not do it because there is a benefit for him, no. he does it because, regardless of how he feels about the guy, it’s the right thing to do.

We cannot flourish as believers until we see what Jesus sees in people. This is our starting point: Jesus.

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,

Amen.