Pentecost 5C/Proper 10C
July 10, 2022
Luke 10:25-37
INTRODUCTION
Last week we heard a lot about the kingdom of God – what it is like, what it is not like, and how to proclaim it. This week, right on the tails of Jesus sending out 70 of his followers to proclaim the kingdom, and their return, we hear a very familiar story, the Good Samaritan, which gives us a concrete example of what it would look like if we did, indeed, love our neighbor. The familiarity of this tale has perhaps diminished how very scandalous it is! Today, as you listen to the first readings, hear that God’s law and hope for us has not changed since the Israelites entered the Promised Land; give thanks in the Psalm that God is present with us as we strive to live God’s word; and hear in our reading from Colossians a prayer for you as you strive to live a life of faith. Then, as you listen to the story of the Good Samaritan, place yourself in the story – not as the hero, the Samaritan, but as one of the other characters. Maybe the guy in the ditch, or one of those who crosses the road, or the innkeeper. For that matter, maybe you’re the lawyer asking the questions at the beginning. As you listen, imagine your character’s thoughts and feelings as this all plays out. Let’s listen.
[READ]
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
I read an opinion piece in the New York Times a couple weeks ago entitled, “America the Merciless.” The author, Pamela Paul, argues that a defining characteristic of our country is our lack of mercy for our own citizens. She cites several examples, including lack of access to affordable health care, the amount of gun violence, and several recent Supreme Court decisions, but she focuses mostly on prohibitions and restrictions around euthanasia (aka “mercy killing”) and our criminal justice system (America has the highest incarceration rate in the world). For the latter, she refers to the book-turned-movie by Bryon Stevenson, Just Mercy. The article includes this quote from the book: “Fear and anger can make us vindictive and abusive, unjust and unfair, until we all suffer from the absence of mercy and we condemn ourselves as much as we victimize others.”
I have been mulling this over these past couple weeks as I’ve been thinking about the parable of the Good Samaritan. It’s such a familiar parable, even to the point of its title being colloquial, that we may not anymore notice the details. But this week, after reading that New York Times piece, I noticed anew how the lawyer, in the end, answers Jesus’ question, “Who was a neighbor?” with: “the one who showed him mercy.”
First of all, did you see what Jesus did there? You remember, the original question the lawyer asked was, “who is my neighbor?” As in, who am I supposed to love with all I’ve got? The implied answer to that question is: anyone! Especially, anyone in need. But Jesus flips the question, instead asking back, “Who acted like a neighbor?” So not, “who should I love?” but instead, “how should one love? What does love look like?” And the answer the lawyer rightly gives is: “The who showed him mercy.”
And that is worth dwelling on for a moment. I know I usually assume “love your neighbor” means “care for your neighbor in need.” And, yes - but that’s not exactly what he says here. The neighbor here is “the one who showed mercy.” And so, Christian love and service must be rooted in mercy.
Mercy is not a word we use much outside of church, which is why the title of the article I mentioned caught my attention. Even in church, we mostly use “mercy” in reference to God. God is merciful. But mercy is, really, at the root of so many Big Moral Issues, and questions about how to act in a Christian way in this complicated world.
So then, what is mercy, exactly? Let’s first look at what mercy is not. Listen again to that quote from Stevenson’s book: “Fear and anger can make us vindictive and abusive, unjust and unfair, until we all suffer from the absence of mercy and we condemn ourselves as much as we victimize others.” Fear and anger are the culprits that lead to lack of mercy, leading us instead toward vindictiveness, injustice, and abuse. While Stevenson is writing about incarceration practices in America, we can imagine this playing out in the parable. The first two people who pass by the man in need – why do you think they pass by? They are religious men, after all, who would have known well the same law the lawyer cites to Jesus: to love God and neighbor as yourself. So then why didn’t they stop? I suspect there is some self-preservation instinct at play – they likely know that this road from Jerusalem to Jericho is a dangerous road. A common trick was to beat someone up, and leave them as bait for some merciful passer-by, and then beat and rob that person too. But what is that self-preservation rooted in? Fear. Justified fear? Yes, of course! But don’t we always think our fear is justified? That’s why we don’t pick up hitch-hikers, or invite the homeless we encounter to come and live in the ample space in our own homes, or even speak up in public on behalf of someone in need if it might harm our reputation. We have a healthy fear. We weigh the consequences, we decide on what is safest, and we act (or don’t act) accordingly.
Or maybe the reason the two men don’t act is the other reason Stevenson mentions: anger. I don't know that that’s what is going on in this story, but I do know that I am guilty of this, too, sometimes. I let my anger about something or someone fester to the point that when something bad happens to the person or situation causing my anger, there is a vindictive part of me that says, “Good. They deserve it.” And no, in these situations, I don’t feel inclined to help or have mercy.
I know (and feel) that there is a lot of anger and fear in our country right now. People fear for the future of their rights. They are angry at injustice. Many are fearful that we are so divided, and feeling so helpless and increasingly hopeless, that the only way out of this will be civil war. These fears and angers are justified. BUT… we must not let them rob us of mercy. Listen again to this quote: “Fear and anger can make us vindictive and abusive, unjust and unfair, until we all suffer from the absence of mercy and we condemn ourselves as much as we victimize others.” This is what a lack of mercy does to us as individuals and as a country.
So how do we combat all of that – vindictiveness, injustice, abuse, and self-condemnation? We cultivate mercy, in our individual lives and in community. Knowing now what mercy is not, let’s define what mercy is.
Mercy sometimes means kindness. It is noticing that your waitress is having a rough day, and so you don’t tell her your order is wrong, and instead you tip a little extra.
Mercy is sometimes forgiveness. It is a willingness to hear someone’s genuine apology, and choose to believe them, and to release the grudge over them.
Mercy could look like grace. It is choosing not to shame someone publicly, but instead coming to them in private to correct them gently, using the opportunity to build the relationship instead of damage it. Mercy does not undermine or overlook the need for holding someone accountable, because accountability can be merciful – it can be exactly what helps set someone down a more life-giving path. But mercy does offer accountability without shame.
Those are all important expressions of mercy that we can and should strive for. But the mercy that I’m thinking about especially this week is mercy as the action that springs from compassion. This is what we see in this parable, and it is the sort of mercy that can help us deal with the division and the moral issues we face as individuals and as a country.
And my friends, I admit to you that no matter how many times I have returned to this sermon in the past week, this is where I get stuck, every time. I’ve rewritten this sermon several times, and each time, I run into this wall. Because I confess, as your pastor, that I am struggling these days with having compassion for the people who are causing me to feel that fear and anger that can, as Stevenson observes, “make us vindictive and abusive, unjust and unfair, until we all suffer from the absence of mercy.” If showing mercy for someone – even someone I despise, as a Jew would a Samaritan, or vice versa – if that is what makes us a neighbor, then I confess that I am struggling to be a neighbor.
Oh, I have lots of good, faithful, justified reasons for this, don't you worry (and like the lawyer, I’m awfully good at trying to justify myself). Those people are abusing their power, I think. And those people are liars. And those people are doing just fine, only caring for themselves, and have no compassion for the people I think they ought to have compassion for, so why should I be compassionate and merciful toward them? They surely don’t need my care!
But here’s the thing: if, in my justifying my lack of mercy for these people, I have discovered all the things that are, in my mind, wrong with them… then it sounds like they could indeed use my mercy and compassion. Because I know from personal experience that my less attractive qualities usually rear their ugly head when I am suffering in some way – when I feel something lacking, or I feel uncared for, or tired, or stressed. When I am not my best self. Those are the times when I really could use some mercy. That’s not to say that I, or they, should not also be held accountable – remember, accountability can be an act of mercy. Just that this accountability is rooted in compassion and mercy for their struggle, their suffering, whatever it may be.
I’m grateful every day that I receive this mercy from my God, who relentlessly listens, and guides, and cares, and forgives, and gives me another shot to get it right. I receive God’s mercy every single day, and Lord knows, that can’t always be easy! Yet it is also a daily reminder that what the lawyer in this story says is true: to be a neighbor, to love God and neighbor with all that we’ve got, is to show mercy. And as Jesus says, when we do this, we will live – not just eternally, but right now. We will, today, find what it means to have life. May God, who is gracious and merciful, full of compassion and abounding in steadfast love, grant us the will and the strength to do it!
Let us pray… Merciful God, you often put people in our paths who cause us to feel more anger and fear than love. In these times, soften our hearts to feel mercy and compassion, so that we might be a neighbor. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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