Scriptures: Leviticus 19:18, Luke 10:25-37
How did I get so lucky? When we sat down together to plan out our Lenten series on the Most Famous Verses of the Bible, we doled out the verses, the locations, and all that with me drawing “Love your neighbor.” I could not be more fortunate. Why? Because I had an immediate go-to commentary on that verse written by what all Christian theologians would say is the preeminent expert on all things in the Scripture: Jesus Christ himself.
Jesus talks about this verse a lot in his teachings. He calls it the second greatest commandment, second after “Love God.” It’s interesting that this commandment does not appear among the Ten. Of course, since Jesus says upon this and the first “hang all the Law and the Prophets,” you could argue rightly that this commandment along with its companion is the Ten. Not “a part of.” Is.
That’s the teaching of Jesus that Matthew records. Luke, for his part, records another episode where Jesus talks about the second greatest commandment. We know this account very well, as it leads to one of the most famous parables in all the Gospels: The Good Samaritan.
One of the things I love most about the Gospel of Luke is how he inserts these little editorial comments here and there throughout the text. And his recording of Jesus telling this parable, he has one and I think it is vitally important to fully understanding this story. Jesus has an encounter with a student of the law who queries him about eternal life. When Jesus throws the question back at him, this diligent student repeats the first and second most important commandments: Love God and love neighbor. Right answer. He’s got it.
But then, Luke’s little editorial comment comes in. “Wanting to justify himself” Luke tells us, the man inquires further about “who is my neighbor?” Jesus responds with the famous story that we all know and love.
“Wanting to justify himself.” That tells us everything we need to know about what this guy’s motives are. He’s not interested in learning who his neighbors are. What he is interested in is learning who is NOT his neighbor. You see, while we can’t get inside his head completely, we know there’s somebody. Somebody he wants sanction to not love. Somebody he wants permission to hate. We don’t know who. Maybe its his boss or the folks who live down the street who party in the wee hours or maybe it’s his daughter’s boyfriend. Who knows? Maybe it’s the Samaritans and that’s why Jesus picks one as his counter-example. But there’s somebody. There’s always somebody.
As is true for him, so it is for us. There’s always somebody for us. And like this lawyer, we too are looking for sanction to not love. We too are looking for permission to hate. And we, like he is, are desperate to “justify ourselves,” to find some loophole, some exception in Christ’s command that will let us do that.
Jesus doesn’t give this lawyer the out he’s looking for. Neither does he give us ours. Whether we like it or not, there are no loopholes in this commandment. There are no caveats, no conditions, no exceptions. We are to love our neighbor. Period.
But despite that, we have found ways to pretend otherwise.
I always find it interesting how everyone loves this parable. I doubt very highly that the people who heard it the first time thought much of it. In fact, I’d wager people were really offended by it. People were really angry about it. The lawyer, to his credit, is not one of them, but everyone else I bet was ready to start gathering up stones. “We’re gonna have ourselves a lynchin.”
Yeah, we’ve all heard about how hated the Samaritans were back in the day. But we hear that statement with all the intellectual detachment that reading about people who lived thousands of years before we were born brings. Now if Jesus were right here in this church, and he was telling this story, it’d probably be quite different.
It might be the parable of the Good Ghetto Thug. Or the parable of the Good Homosexual. Or perhaps the Good Atheist. Or the Good Muslim. The Good Illegal Immigrant. Take your pick. There’s plenty of options.
But that’s not even really the offensive part. No, the offensive part comes by what’s in between the lines of this story. What it implies. You know that person that you hate. Those people who disgust you. Yeah, them? When they show love and mercy to their neighbor, they are better people that we are.
That atheist? When he lives with love for others, he’s a better Christian than you.
That gay man? When he lives with compassion and care for others, he’s a better Christian than me.
That Muslim? When he gives of his own for the sake of someone else, he’s a better Christian that we are.
Why? Because they obey what Christ has commanded. They are loving their neighbor. They’re doing the Father’s will. Are we?
I wonder sometimes.
I’ve had several friends over the years who have waited tables in restaurants. Without exception, everyone of them has said they hated working Sundays. Why? Because the Church crowd, those folks that come to eat after worship, would stiff them on their tips worse than anyone else. You know Jesus said to spread the Gospel, to make disciples of all nations and all peoples. Good luck harvesting that mission field. Good luck convincing those folks how much God loves them when we’ve made it clear that we don’t.
There’s all this hubbub in the news about this law in Indiana that got passed and how it gives legal sanction for discrimination against homosexuals. Let’s not mince words. We all know that’s what it’s about. It’s all dressed up as some effort at “defending religion.” You know Jesus said to spread the Gospel, to make disciples of all nations and all peoples. Good luck harvesting that mission field. Good luck convincing the members of the gay community how much God loves them when we’ve made it so abundantly clear that we don’t.
Phil Robertson, of the Duck Dynasty bunch, was invited to a prayer breakfast a few weeks ago. During it, he gave an example about atheism that included lurid amounts of violence, rape, and murder. Giving a window into the contents of his mind and how he thinks about those people. You know Jesus said to spread the Gospel, to make disciples of all nations and all peoples. Good luck harvesting that mission field. Good luck convincing those who don’t believe of how much God loves them when we’ve made it so blatantly and frighteningly obvious that we don’t.
Those are just three examples of where we’re still doing what this lawyer tries to do. Looking for the loophole. Looking for the exception. Looking for the caveat that lets us go on hating this group or that person. Looking to justify ourselves.
This is not about our opinions on homosexuality. This is not about what we think of atheism or other religions. This is not about our moral superiority towards people we regard as “sinners.” None of that matters. What matters is what Jesus has told us to do: Love our neighbor.
You know, I’m really not looking forward to that conversation with God. The one I know I’m going to have when I’m standing before his throne and he pulls out this list. What list is that? It’s the list of people that never got to know him because I got in the way. Because I couldn’t get over myself enough to do what God wanted me to do. Because I was more interested in hate than I was in serving him. I pray that list is small.
Love God. Love neighbor. It shouldn’t be this hard. It’s just four words. But, boy, do we stink at it. We go out of our way to do the opposite. Always looking for a reason to find out whether that other person “deserves” our love. More often than not, they don’t, but again that’s not what matters. We don’t deserve God’s love and yet what do we have?
You see, there’s our model. God loves without condition or exception. He overlooks our sins for the sake of Christ. Do we deserve God’s love? Absolutely not, but we have it anyway. And what a love it is.
You know another way in which I got lucky tonight is that I got to preach “love your neighbor” on Maundy Thursday. The “night in which he was betrayed” and all that goes with it. Do you remember what Jesus said as he passed the bread and the wine around that room on that night? “Love as I have loved you.” Jesus was well aware of what his love for us was going to do to him over the following 24 hours. Tomorrow, on Good Friday, we will gather to remember those very moments and the horrific events that Christ entered into willingly for the sake of those that he loved.
Jesus loved his neighbors so much he died for them. Died for us, because we are his neighbor. He died for the gays and the Muslims and the atheists and the immigrants and the ghetto kids and our daughters’ boyfriends and everyone else we don’t like. But they’re his neighbor too and they are ours. Amen.
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