Luke 10:25-37 · The Parable of the Good Samaritan
Who Is the Good Samaritan?
Luke 10:25-37
Sermon
by Leonard Sweet
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Love costs.

Asking people to personally identify with the story of the Good Samaritan is a little like asking all the children of a picnic-time softball team what position they would like to play. Just as surely as you are going to end up with nine pitchers, you will find yourself with a congregation full of hypothetical Samaritans.

Very few of us will voluntarily choose to identify with the priest or the Levite or the helpless wounded man lying at the side of the road. Even though we may readily admit that we fail to behave as the Samaritan on any consistent basis in our lives, he is still the figure is this story that we feel should house our own identity.

Arthur C. McGill, at the time of his death, was Professor of Divinity at HarvardDivinitySchool. In his posthumous book, Death and Life (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1987), completed by his wife, McGill suggests that this preferred identity has its roots in a deeper spiritual problem. McGill believes that many of us are caught up in a destructive "bronze people" myth living out a "bronze dream."

"Bronze" here serves as his image for people "so clean, so neat, so tanned, so buoyant and assured" that any trace of the frailties that are part of human life - suffering, fear, death - seem not to touch them in any way (26). The over-riding ethic keeping us "bronze people" alive is an ethic of "success or avoidance" (26). The "bronze dream" that attempts to incarnate this ethic is rooted in possessions and self-preservation. In the bronze dream, persons try to hold and possess their own identity; and they try to hold and possess the resources and supports by which that identity can be sustained. In other words, the bronze way seeks a mode of life which promises maximum security (81).

If this "bronze" ethic dominates all our actions, it is little wonder that the story of the Good Samaritan is both well-loved and completely misunderstood.

McGill brings us all up short when he finds our identification with the meliorative moves of the Samaritan not just wishfully optimistic but theologically backward. The Samaritan, as the one who is in control of his own life, wealth and well-being, is actually the incarnation of all our self-oriented little bronze dreams. Under our shallow perception of the Samaritan's actions, we find comfort in seeing ourselves as willing to help others, offering aid and comfort to one in need. What McGill proposes smashes this illusion.

In the Good Samaritan story we are not the Samaritan. Rather we are the anonymous beaten, bloodied nobody lying helpless in the ditch. We are the needy, not the helper (89). At the conclusion of his Good Samaritan story, Jesus asks the lawyer, "Which of these three...was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?" (v.36). The lawyer is being asked by Jesus to identify his neighbor - and the answer, of course, is the Samaritan. But the lawyer - the one seeking the way to eternal life - as well as the 20th-century reader, are both the ones who receive aid from this neighbor - i.e., the wounded man.

A falsely gleaming notion of "bronze love" is largely responsible for our notion that we are the Good Samaritan. In the neat and tidy world of the bronze dream, love is a well-ordered, one-way street. Bronze churches "speak of love as helping others, but they ignore what helping others does to the person who loves. They ignore the fact that love is self-expenditure, a real expending, a real losing, a real deterioration of the self" (87).

When we imagine ourselves the Good Samaritan, we hardly consider the cost compassion may actually require of us. These are the days when police and emergency squad workers have been known to refuse to give CPR or staunch the flow of blood out of fear of AIDS. Active, life-saving love could cost you your life. And these are the days when a burgeoning number of young families find themselves helpless, homeless and on the street. Active, compassionate love could fill your own home with a bitter, despondent stranger, shattering your serenity. And these are the days when our own nation's urban ghettos constitute a floundering Third-World country on American soil. Moving into such a neighborhood to try and help redeem it could jeopardize your own or your children's education or health or reputation. Love costs.

This is why we must begin by seeing ourselves as the wounded man, for all of us are incapable of truly being the Good Samaritan. The Good Samaritan, in fact, is none other than Jesus Christ himself. Jesus' entire existence was centered about bringing this kind of self-less, self-expending love into the world, into our lives. Jesus is our Good Samaritan, who picks us up, heals our wounds and provides for all our needs.

Yet Jesus does even more. He incarnated love so perfectly that he not only healed us. He died for us. While McGill's "bronze people" are busy stockpiling and safeguarding their sense of self with possessions and the illusion of control, Jesus engenders true life, true love, true identity - by giving up all that he has, even his life itself. In this way Jesus as the Good Samaritan shows all of us how to fulfill the first commandment so entirely that we can attain the eternal life we so desperately seek. Paul encapsulated this well when he stated:

His purpose in dying for all was that [people], while still in life, should cease to live for themselves, and should live for him who for their sake died and was raised to life. (2 Cor. 5:15NEB]

Now, "go and do likewise."

ChristianGlobe Networks, Inc., Collected Works, by Leonard Sweet