Luke 10:25-37 · The Parable of the Good Samaritan
Why Do We Call Him Good?
Luke 10:25-37
Sermon
by Dr. Ronald Love
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Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen, in his autobiography TREASURE IN CLAY, recounts a visit he made to a leper colony in Buluba, Africa. He intended to give a silver crucifix to each of the 500 lepers residing in Buluba.

The first person who came forward, however, was a man so disfigured by the ravages of leprosy that Sheen was repulsed by the sight. The man's left arm was eaten off at the elbow by the disease; so he extended his right hand. This hand, too, was unspeakably corrupted by this awful disease.

Unable to bear the leper's presence, Sheen held the crucifix above the man's palm and dropped it, where it was immediately swallowed up in the decaying flesh. Instantly, Sheen was aware of his unrighteous act. He had taken the crucifix ” God's sign of identification with humanity ” and refused to associate himself with one of God's children. Overcome with remorse, Sheen dug his fingers into the man's leprosy and removed the crucifix. This time, he gently placed the crucifix in the man's hand. Sheen respectfully handed a crucifix to each of the remaining 499 lepers and, in the exchange, learned to love them.

"And who is my neighbor?" someone once asked Jesus. Jesus replied by telling this story: "A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he fell into the hands of robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, took him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper. `Look after him,' he said, `and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.'" Now Jesus reciprocated with a question, "Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?" The answer was so obvious the inquirer responded immediately, "The one who had mercy on him." Then Jesus challenged everyone with these words, "Go and do likewise."

Nowhere in the Parable of the Good Samaritan is the word "good" used. Have you ever noticed that? Through the years, however, the word "good" has become synonymous with this man who dared to be a neighbor to a stranger. For all eternity he will be known as the Good Samaritan. Why? Why do we call him good?

FOR ONE THING, HE DID NOT TURN HIS BACK ON SOMEONE IN DISTRESS. Isn't that our first reaction? We see someone who is hurting and we look away. That's what the priest and the Levite did. They were the religious leaders in the community. But they ignored the forsaken traveler. We can only guess why. Perhaps they did not want to be made ceremonially unclean by touching one they suspected was dead. Possibly they were just in a hurry and did not want to be inconvenienced. Whatever the reason, they both turned their back. The Samaritan was good because he turned his face on the man, not his back, and he showed him simple human kindness.

Mark Twain once wrote, "Kindness is a language that the deaf can hear and the blind can read." He was right, of course. Everyone can understand the language of love. It can be spoken in any dialect and still be comprehended by a person of any nationality, by the rich and the poor, by the old and the young, by both male and female. Kindness is a universal language for it does not speak to the intellect, but directly to the heart. The Samaritan was "good" for he spoke the language of kindness. Even though he was a Samaritan and the beaten traveler was a Jew, he reached out to him.

But there is a second thing to note. THE SAMARITAN WAS ALSO WILLING TO DISRUPT HIS SCHEDULE TO HELP THIS MAN IN DISTRESS. Time is such a precious commodity in our world. A Pennsylvania consulting firm recently released one of those studies estimating the amount of time the average American will spend doing various things over the course of a lifetime. The results are not encouraging. Consider:

Time spent opening junk mail: 8 months.

Time spent sitting at stoplights: 6 months.

Time spent searching for misplaced objects: 1 year.

Time spent trying to return phone calls: 2 years.

Time spent doing housework: 4 years.

Time spent standing in line: 5 years.

With time such a precious commodity, sometimes the greatest act of Christian charity is the willingness to give someone else your time.

When Clara Barton learned of the terrible plight of the wounded soldiers at the battle of Second Bull Run, she immediately left the security of Washington, D.C.,

for the battlefield. Arriving on Sunday she labored all day and on through the night, aiding the stricken men. Exhaustion could not stop her as she bandaged one man and consoled another. Fear could not deter this nurse from her appointed rounds. As Rebel skirmishers began to pass over the knoll of a nearby hill, Barton continued her work. Alone, she treated the injured as the other medical personnel boarded the train, hoping to reach the safety of the city.

Slowly the Confederate forces advanced; soon the hospital would be overrun. Aware of the impending doom, a Union officer rode up to Barton with a mount in hand. He called, asking if Clara could ride a horse bareback. Nodding she could, the officer yelled, "Then you can risk another hour!" While bullets passed by her, she stayed to bandage yet another man.

When the Samaritan stopped along the side of the road to assist a fellow traveler, he was willing to risk yet another hour. He was willing to take the risk of getting involved. He was willing to sacrifice his time. He was willing to surrender some of his belongings. He was willing to walk, so another could ride. He was willing to offer his coins at the Inn for a man who had none.

To be "good" we, too, must risk another hour. Seldom do we have the opportunity to schedule when we need to be involved. Usually it is thrust upon us when we least expect it and are ill-prepared. Surprise will always be our first response. Inconvience will always be our first thought. Unwillingness will always be our first desire. Then we remember the word, "good." And we swallow our pride and our prejudice and take the time to help.

This brings us to a third thing to be said. THE SAMARITAN SHOWED HIMSELF CAPABLE OF THE HIGHEST ACT OF HUMAN CONSCIOUSNESS ” THAT OF EMPATHY. He saw in the traveler stripped and beaten on the road his own desperate need. For you see, suffering is a universal human phenomenon. Nobody can escape the heartache and sorrow of life. Everyone is subject to illness and grief. At one time or another we all will have to endure lost dreams and shattered ambitions. Money, power, and prestige offer no protection against such anguish. We are all neighbors, for you and I share the same physical, emotional, and spiritual distress. In the parable Jesus asked us to realize that the individual along the side of the road hurts as much as you or I have in a similar circumstance. Jesus hopes we will entertain the weary traveler's agony as our own.

Actress Ann Jullian's struggle with cancer and her resulting double mastectomy has been much publicized. She allowed her story to be told to encourage and support others who are enduring a similar ailment. Ann's husband, Andy, extends the same sympathy to the public. His sentiment is best expressed in a comment he made after viewing President Reagan on television. The newscast showed the former President lugging a potted plant to his wife Nancy, a patient at Bethesda Naval Hospital, who also had a mastectomy. Observing Ronald Reagan's concern for his beloved spouse, Andy concurred, "I felt sorry for him. He is simply a guy, just like you and me. He may be the President of the United States, but at that moment he was a husband worried about his wife."

Suffering is equitable, for no one is spared. Understanding the pain of our own afflictions makes us more willing to help our hurting neighbor. That help may come as a kind word, a visit, or a comforting embrace.

Mother Teresa once put it like this, "The biggest disease today is not leprosy or cancer. It's the feeling of being uncared for or unwanted, of being deserted and alone. The greatest evil is the lack of love and charity, and an indifference toward one's neighbor who may be the victim of poverty or disease or exploited and at the end of his life, left at a roadside."

In his Inaugural Address, President George Bush declared, "For this is the thing: This is the age of the offered hand." With all due respect to the President, my observation is that there are not enough hands being offered. Am I wrong? It appears to me we are still in the age of "looking out for No. 1." We need to see in our neighbor's distress our own desperate need.

But there is a final thing to be said: THE SAMARITAN WAS "GOOD" BECAUSE HE SAW IN THE TRAVELER CHRIST HIMSELF. Oh, the Samaritan wouldn't have expressed it that way, but Christ did. "When you do it unto the least of these...."

Walt Whitman expressed it this way, "In the faces of men and women I see God." In the face of every forsaken pilgrim stranded along the side of life's road, we perceive the presence of our Lord. Thus, mere acquaintances are turned into friends. Why? Because a man from Nazareth once befriended us.

Frederick Douglass approached the front door of the White House, seeking admission into Abraham Lincoln's Second Inaugural Ball. Just as Douglass was about to knock on the door, two policemen seized him, barring the black man's entrance. Douglass, a large, powerful man, brushed the officers aside and stepped into the foyer. Once inside, two more officers grabbed the uninvited guest, all the while uttering racial slurs.

As Douglass was being dragged from the hall, he cried to a nearby patron, "Just say to Mr. Lincoln that Fred Douglass is at the door!" Confusion ensued. Then suddenly the officers received orders to usher Douglass into the East Room. In that beautiful room, the great abolitionist stood in the presence of the esteemed President. The place quieted as Lincoln approached his newly arrived guest, hand outstretched in greeting, and speaking in a voice loud enough so none could mistake his intent, the President announced, "Here comes my friend Douglass."

The President had called Frederick Douglass friend. Who dared demean Douglass if he was a friend of the President?

Jesus Christ, the Lord of the universe, has called us his brothers and his sisters. God has called us His own children. But not only us. Also the person who lies stripped and beaten by the side of the road. He ” or she ” is our friend, our neighbor. So we pause and we help, because once there was a man who paused on a cross for us. And we remember, and like Bishop Sheen we retrieve the cross from the decaying flesh, and say, "Friend, what can I do to help?"

by Dr. Ronald Love