Preaching text: Luke 10:25-37
It’s hard for our modern ears to truly hear just how radical Jesus’ story of the Good Samaritan really is. To us, the phrase “Samaritan” and all that it connotes is completely and radically different than it would have meant to the people of the 1st century. We name hospitals and social service organizations for the Samaritan. It’s meaning to us is overwhelmingly positive. It means a person of kindness and self-sacrifice, entirely because of this story. And that’s nothing like what the first hearers of this story would have thought.
It’s hard to overstate how little the typical 1st century Palestinian Jew would have thought of their northern neighbors. The Samaritans came about after the Assyrian Empire overran the northern kingdom of Israel during the reign of King Pekah around 740 BC. The Assyrians took the Israelites prisoner, enslaved them, and essentially bred them out of existence. The offspring of those unions eventually became the Samaritans.
Cut off as they were from the temple in Jerusalem, they adapted their beliefs to their circumstances, regarding several notable mountain peaks in Samaria as the center of Yahweh worship. Fast forward a few hundred years and they quickly emerge as the hated neighbor to the Jews. They were a symbol of defeat, they were not pureblooded, they worshiped differently. They were, in a nutshell, EVERYTHING the Jews feared would happen to them and they didn’t like being reminded of it. So they treated the Samaritans with utter contempt.
And then Jesus tells a story of a righteous, kind, and giving Samaritan. It’s probably a miracle they didn’t crucify him that very day.
Retelling the Good Samaritan to make an illegal immigrant the Samaritan is a pretty accurate way to depict the story to modern audiences. Because, behind a lot of the anti-immigrant rhetoric of today is fear. And it’s the same fear that drove Jewish hatred of the Samaritans, the fear of being replaced, of having their lands and society changed, of being defeated. They’re coming. They’re coming to take our jobs. They’re coming to vote their people into office. They’re coming to take our tax dollars away from things we want them spent on. They’re coming to marry our children and breed us white folk out of existence. And we have to stop them. We have to make the laws tougher. We have to secure our borders. That’s the rhetoric you hear. It would not have sounded alien to those of the 1st century.
And then Jesus tells us a story of a righteous, kind, and giving Samaritan. He does this, of course, because he knows the truth of the human experience. The truth that one’s bloodline or birthright is not what defines what is in their heart. We are not good or evil because of our skin color or national origin. We are good or evil because of our deeds and our attitudes. And if we let fear define our deeds and attitudes, the likelihood that we will slide from good to evil increases dramatically.
Jesus tells this story in the context of being asked what it means to love our neighbor as ourselves. And I know most of you who’ve listened to me preach for these years have long since realized this topic is a big deal to me. That’s because I believe every single person in this room wants to be good, sees themselves as a good person, and would like to live their life in that way. But I know also what you’re told out there, by our leaders and our media. In ways both subtle and gross, we are being taught to hate and fear those who are different. I get you for roughly one hour a week and I’ll be damned if I’m going to waste that by not reminding you of what a lie what they tell you really is.
I’m angry that they lie to you. I’m angry that some of you have begun to believe those lies. They make it easy, giving you outs where you can justify the hate and fear to yourself. It’s not all immigrants, just the illegal ones. It’s not all black people, just the criminals. It’s not all Muslims, just the terrorists. It’s not all gays, just the ones who molest kids. But then they keep pushing and pushing until the line between the acceptable and unacceptable begins to blur and eventually ceases to exist entirely. Then all have become unacceptable.
That’s why Jesus tells this story. You have heard it said that Samaritans are evil, worthless, horrible half-bred monsters. Let me tell you the real story. Let me tell you who they really are. Let me show you how you’re wrong about them. How they’re not what you think. He’s pushing back against the popular narrative of who these people are and, in doing so, teaching us what it really means to love our neighbor as ourselves. He’s reminding us that our neighbors include THEM.
The distinctions we make in our society between us and them are entirely arbitrary. They really are. We decided, at some point in our past, to define our tribal boundaries in such a way to exclude people of different race, language, sexuality, religion, etc. That was our choice, or more accurately, the choice of our ancestors. But it’s still our choice. We can look at one another today right now and admit what nonsense this all is. Because it’s nonsense to God. God doesn’t look at us like that. To him, we’re just human. Equally flawed and beloved at the same time. A precious people in need of rescue from sin and death, and thus came Jesus to deal with those very problems. Jesus did not go to the cross for white folks or Americans or English speakers. He went to the cross for all folks, all nations, all languages, all skin colors, all expressions of gender and sex, all people.
So the question comes down for each one of us. Which voice are we listening to? The voice of the world that eggs us on to hate and fear our neighbor? Or the voice of Christ that reminds us to see the good in all and love even those who are most different from us? As live through this Christian life, we called to answer that question every day. As I said, we all desire to be good people. Jesus shows and tells us how: Love your neighbor as yourself. Amen.
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