First Friends Meeting
Luke 10:25-37
Who Is My Neighbor?
Doug Gwyn

Nilah has just read one of our favorite parables of Jesus, the Good Samaritan. It appears only in Luke’s gospel. It’s placed shortly after Jesus has begun his journey south to Jerusalem. As he and the disciples get underway, they send messengers ahead. They probably drum up interest in hearing Jesus speak and arrange for places to stay. The trip south takes them through Samaritan territory. Luke tells us the messengers were turned down by a Samaritan village. They didn’t want to hear this Jewish prophet or give him a place to stay. They wouldn’t put him up and they wouldn’t put up with him. The disciples were offended. They asked Jesus if they should pray for fire to come down from heaven and consume the Samaritan village. But Jesus rebuked them for the very idea.

So this parable of the Good Samaritan comes on the heels of an experience of some not-so-good Samaritans. Our story takes up as Jesus is probably passing through a mixed area of Jewish and Samaritan villages. A Jewish scribe decides to put test this Galilean prophet, see what he’s about. He asks, what must I do to inherit eternal life? Jesus asks, well, what does the law require. The scribe gives a good, orthodox answer. “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” That summarizes all the laws of Moses. Jesus answers, yes, that’s the way of true life. But Luke tells us the scribe wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “But who is my neighbor?” It’s a fair enough question. We all would like to know just how far we have to go in loving others. The scribe knows that Jesus isn’t talking about sentimental love, a generalized well-wishing for everyone. He’s talking about actually helping people.

Now Jesus knows there would be longstanding tensions between Jews and Samaritans in this mixed neighborhood. But his parable doesn’t take place around there. It’s about a Jewish man on a journey from Jerusalem south to Jericho. That’s far from any Samaritan neighborhood. Anyway, this man is attacked by robbers (who would not be Samaritans). He’s stripped, beaten, and left half-dead. He’s lying there on the side of the road – he might be dead. You can’t tell without closer examination, without touching him and trying to revive him. First, a priest passes by. He doesn’t stop. In fact, he even crosses to the other side of the road. Then a Levite, another kind of priest, does the same. Jesus just briefly mentions these. He doesn’t offer any explanation of their behavior, or moral judgment on it.

Now, it would be obvious to Jewish listeners that the priest and the Levite face a particular dilemma here. The man might be dead. To touch him would risk cultic defilement. They would have to go through elaborate ritual washings before they could resume their priestly duties. And who knows, maybe both men are on a tight schedule. They may be letting people down by getting involved with this probable corpse. So there’s moral ambiguity here, and Jesus doesn’t clear it up. But clearly, neither of these clergymen is the hero of our story. Certainly, as a minister, this story always makes me uncomfortable. How many situations do I pass by – perhaps don’t even recognize as situations where I could help – because I’m on a tight schedule with Church business?

Now the hearers of this story would expect a common, everyday Israelite to come next. In rabbinic parables of that day, the sequence of priest, levite, and Israelite was not uncommon. And after all, the story is taking place south of Jerusalem. Who else is going to come along? But lo and behold, here comes a Samaritan, out of left-field. It’s the Samaritan who helps the poor man lying motionless on the side of the road. Now, up to this point, Jesus has told this story with a minimum of detail. But now he gives great detail on all the things this Samaritan does for this half-dead Jewish man, whom he does not know. The Samaritan must have money. Maybe he’s on a long business trip. Anyway, he bandages up the poor guy. He puts him on his own horse or donkey and walks to an inn. He pays the innkeeper two denarii (that would be two days’ wages for a day-laborer) to take care of the man. He tells the innkeeper that when he comes back, he’ll pay whatever else he owes for the man’s recovery. He has taken time and he has spent money to save the life of a man who, if he were conscious, might spit in his face for touching him.

So Jesus asks the scribe, “Which of these three do you think was the neighbor to the man?” Well, maybe it was just too hard to say, “the Samaritan.” But the scribe gives the right answer, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus replies simply, “Go and do likewise.” But there’s a funny twist here. Not only has Jesus placed a Samaritan where people expected an Israelite. The scribes question was “Who is my neighbor?” That is, “Who deserves to be the object of my love?” But the story Jesus tells makes the Samaritan the subject of loving action, not the object. Jesus makes the Samaritan the subject of several verbs of action, of compassion, generosity. So the scribe and the other Jewish listeners to this story either have to identify with the victim, the half-dead man lying on the side of the road, or the Samaritan who helps him. Not a happy choice.

This story is an act of genius. In a sly manner, Jesus portrays the way in which we grow in empathy. The way we extend our sense of love and concern in wider circles. The way we become neighborly to those we have shut out of our world. If Jesus were merely liberal, he would have told us a story of a suffering Samaritan victim and said, now shouldn’t we help him too? But by making the Samaritan the model of good neighborhood, by portraying the Samaritan’s actions in such detail, Jesus invites his hearers to view the next Samaritan they see not as a victim but as a neighbor, at equal at least.

Our book discussion group on John Woolman started last Sunday and meets again this morning. We are seeing how John Woolman developed greater empathy, or what he calls “a near sympathy,” by imagining the social conditions and suffering of others. He “enlarged the borders of his heart,” as he puts it, to see all people, all creatures, as his neighbors. Part of his growth in empathy was his habit of reading Scripture imaginatively. He entered into its stories with his heart and mind. He felt the conditions of its characters. That’s what we’re trying to do here, with this story from Luke. .

Earlier this week, I made a quick trip up to the Friends General Conference Gathering, which is being held in Wisconsin this year. 1200 Friends met up there all this week, on the theme, “Who Is My Neighbor?” The advance flyer for the Gathering had that title on the cover. The large question mark was made up of little pictures of all kinds of people. Young people, old people. People of different races and cultures. There were animals too, even the earth itself. And some identifiable individuals, like Osama Bin Ladin, George W. Bush, Pat Robertson, Fidel Castro, Jesus, Donald Rumsfeld, Bill Gates. Yikes! What a neighborhood we live in!

At the conference, several individuals expressed appreciation for a talk I gave two years ago, at the Friends United Meeting Triennial, in Des Moines. Friends in New England Yearly Meeting published it and it got around. In that talk, I expressed my hope that FUM will become more inclusive and affirming of gays and lesbians. There are many already among us. More would find their spiritual home with Friends. Now, I didn’t plan in advance to say that. But, with some of the things that were said before my talk, I felt the hand of the Lord very strongly on me to speak out. It was not a comfortable thing for me to do, and it made some people in FUM leadership pretty unhappy with me. I don’t think I’ll be invited to speak at another Triennial any time soon. But my sense of leading was clear. And since then, I learned that it meant a great deal to some in Friends United Meeting, to hear a featured speaker (and a pastor, no less) speak for their concern.

As I received that feedback this week and reflected on it, I realized that I had come to that moment two years ago in a way similar to the way the parable of the Good Samaritan works. It was the friendliness, helpfulness, and hospitality of gays and lesbians – Friends and other Christians – over the years that changed my mind about homosexuality. It was not by looking at homosexuals as the victims of prejudice. If that were all I saw, it would make me advocate for their civil rights, but not necessarily for their place in the Church. It was experiencing the neighborliness, the generosity of spirit, and the moral integrity of gays and lesbians that changed my heart. Jesus invited a little crowd of Jewish peasants, and one scribe, to make a change of heart in their neighborhood. With this amazing little story, he keeps inviting people everywhere to do the same.

As we go into open worship, you might reflect on this question: what are the experiences, what are the Scripture stories, and who are the people that have changed my mind, enlarged my heart, expanded my sense of neighborhood?