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Good morning, I'm Helen and I'm part of the Christ Church Youth Group.
Today's scripture reading is from the book of Luke, chapter 10, verses 25 to 37, as printed
in your liturgy.
A reading from the gospel according to Luke.
On one occasion, an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus.
Teacher, he asked, what must I do to inherit eternal life?
What is written in the law, he replied.
How do you read it?
He answered, 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 love your neighbor as yourself.
You've answered correctly, Jesus replied.
Do this and you will live.
But he wanted to justify himself.
So he asked Jesus, and who is my neighbor?
In reply, Jesus said, a man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho when he was attacked
by 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 by 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, brought him to an inn, and took care of him.
The next day, he took out two denarii 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.
Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?
The expert in the law replied, the one who had mercy on him.
This is the gospel of the Lord.
Praise to you, O Christ.
Thank you, Halen.
That was a wonderful first time reading from you.
Look forward to you doing that many more times with us.
Praise God for our youth ministry.
Good morning, everyone.
My name is Andrew, and again, I'm one of the pastors here.
And I'm happy to be bringing God's word to you.
Our lead pastor, Jonathan, he's coming back.
Don't worry, he's coming back.
But today, he's not here, so it's me again.
And just a heads up, it's a little bit longer today because he's not here, so I get to do
what I want.
And just want to give you that heads up, all right?
Well, let's go to the Lord in prayer first.
Father, by your word and by your spirit, would what you have to say to us, would it mess us
up and make us whole at the same time?
Would these words of Jesus bring deep conviction of sin here at this church, at Christ Church
East Bay, and would it lead us to radical repentance, changed lives, and most of all,
holy compassion that makes a difference in the world in the name of Christ?
And show us, God, not only the depths of our sin through this passage, but the heights
of your grace and compassion toward us in Christ, your Son.
Amen.
Open our eyes to his beauty and his glory, and how right it is to worship him and follow
him as the Savior King he is, who gave his life, his whole self, to make us whole.
We ask this in the name of Jesus.
Amen.
So, we're opening up a passage in Luke's Gospel that's, you know, it's become so famous and
formative that the very meaning of the word Samaritan has been redefined in the English-speaking
world, right?
Jesus was that amazing of a storyteller and teacher.
He literally changed the history and the language of the world so that even when people today
might know very little about him, as soon as their car breaks down and a stranger comes
in the rain and helps them fix that tire or drive them to wherever they need to go, what
do they say?
They say, wow, what a good Samaritan, right?
And they say it with honor, right?
It's an honorable compliment because being a good Samaritan is a virtue that's still celebrated
across all of society.
Even if few of us actually live up to this ideal, no matter what religion you belong to,
no matter your ethnic culture, no matter your socioeconomic status or what side of the political
aisle you lean on, we'd all say that the world would be better, right, if there were more
good Samaritans around, strangers helping strangers in need with compassion and hospitality, generosity,
care, and sacrifice.
So again, this is a super famous and very familiar, well-loved passage of Scripture, but I also
think that's what makes it challenging for a preacher and also for all of us trying to
take seriously these words of Jesus and hear them with fresh ears.
This passage has just become so familiar and formative for the Western world that we come
to it already knowing how the story ends, unable to feel in our bones how shocking and radical
and foolish it would have sounded to its original hearers, and we come to it just assuming that,
yeah, we already got the point.
Like, okay, of course, the pastor's going to preach on the Good Samaritan today, and it's
pretty straightforward.
Jesus tells a story about a dude who shows up and shows a lot of love toward a stranger,
and then he goes, go and do likewise, got it, right, love my neighbor, already knew that,
thanks for the reminder, okay?
It's just so familiar, it's not fresh to us.
And honestly, it probably doesn't inspire us that much toward the high standard of love
that God calls us to live by, not just as followers of Jesus, but as human beings made
in his image and called to honor the image of God in one another.
And even if this passage does hit us with conviction and maybe even guilt and shame, like, even
if you do take seriously how radically loving this Samaritan was, and you take seriously Jesus'
command to go and do likewise, because that's what Jesus says we must do to inherit eternal
life.
Man, even if this passage does convict you, what are we supposed to do with that?
Who can truly live up to that?
Who can love so completely, so sacrificially, day in, day out, every day?
Who can love with this kind of a love?
Maybe for some of us, we're like, I mean, I'm going to try.
I'm going to try to love more, but I also feel pretty defeated and crushed by this high
standard, and I'm 100% sure I'm going to fail over and over and over again.
I'm going to go into my workplace this week with good intentions, but I'm going to lose it.
I'm going to be short with that annoying colleague, right?
I'm going to go into my home.
I'm going to try to serve my spouse.
I'm going to try to be patient with my children, but I just know I'm not going to be able to
sustain it.
And these thoughts just kind of color how we read this parable, right?
Like, yeah, I want to do it.
I want to live wholly and selflessly all day, every day, but man, it also seems kind of impossible.
Who could love like this?
Seriously, how could I ever consistently love like this?
Is Jesus really demanding this, or is he just, you know, really, really encouraging
us to try our hardest?
Well, in case you thought that the main point today was going to be, go love your neighbor,
try harder.
Come on, guys.
You can do it.
Love your neighbor more, or else no eternal life.
In case you thought that that was it, the real point, I think, or the question for us
this morning is what is it, what is it that will truly transform us into people of radical,
self-giving, self-sacrificial love?
The kind of people we all know that we were meant to be.
The kind of people we all want to be.
The kind of people we all want our children to be.
I think we all know deep down eternal life.
New creation life is a life lived with this kind of love.
But the question is, how do we live like that?
How do we live like new creation people, rather than being stuck as fallen creation people,
unable to love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength, and unable to love our
neighbors as ourselves?
Because again, we're all agreed, even if you're not a Christian, even if you don't believe
in God, whatever religion or lack thereof that you identify with, we're all agreed that
the world would be a better place if there were more good Samaritans, if we all loved as
we ought, with the fullness of our lives.
But the question is, how?
How?
What's it going to take to produce good Samaritans out of selfish sinners like you and me and
the rest of our neighbors?
That's where we open up our text.
Let's see what verse 25 has to say.
On one occasion, an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus.
In the Greek, it's the word entrap, to entrap Jesus.
Teacher, he asked, probably, you know, feigning respect and teachability.
He says, teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?
So here's a guy who thinks he knows better than Jesus.
He's an expert in the scriptures that Jesus teaches from.
And so he subjects Rabbi Jesus to a theology exam.
Okay?
And the question on the exam is, what must I do to inherit eternal life?
Or what must I do to be an heir of eternal life?
This was a frequent question that the theologians, the Jewish theologians of that day loved to
discuss.
And probably also a very weighty question that occupied the minds of many Jewish people,
this question about eternal life.
And listen, what we need to understand about eternal life is that, contrary to what many
of us might understand it to be, it's not some heavenly, disembodied, timeless eternity.
That's Plato and not the Bible.
Okay?
When people ask Jesus, what must I do to inherit eternal life?
They're not simply asking, how can I escape to that heavenly destination outside of this world
when I die, or how can I live forever and avoid death or hell?
No, they're asking about how they can enter into the new world of the new age that God
was going to bring, the age of justice and peace and shalom.
How can I enter the perfect and imperishable kingdom of God, the new creation where there
are no tears and no fears?
Eternal life here is way more than living forever, going to heaven, or avoiding hell.
It's about belonging to God and his consummate new creation in the age to come.
That's what they're asking about.
So this was indeed a weighty and important question that Jesus was going to take seriously,
even if his questioner had bad intentions.
And what Jesus basically says is, well, you're an expert in the law.
You know the answer.
We both submit to the same divinely inspired authoritative scriptures.
I'm not here teaching anything different.
Verse 26, what is written in the law?
He replied.
How do you read it?
And this expert in the law gets the answer right.
It's the same answer Jesus gives when other people ask him the question.
In verse 27, the law expert answered, love the Lord your God with all your heart and
with all your soul and with all your strength, with all your mind, the greatest commandment,
right?
And then the second one that is like it, love your neighbor as yourself.
And Jesus applauds this man's theologically correct answer.
Verse 28, you have answered correctly.
Do this and you will live.
He basically says, yep, you just said it.
Go do it.
Love.
Love God.
Love your neighbor.
It's agape.
Now, at this point, the law expert is sure that he's at least got the first commandment
down, right?
He knows who he's supposed to love the most, Yahweh.
No other gods before him.
But as someone who pays close, close attention to the details of the law, he notices in the
second greatest commandment, this is trickier than the first commandment, because who exactly
is my neighbor?
That can be interpreted in a lot of ways, my next door neighbors, my regional neighbors,
my national neighbors, my international neighbors, my extraterrestrial neighbors.
Like how far out does this neighbor love thing go?
He was trying to figure out or at least get Jesus' take on just how many people he was responsible
for loving as he loved himself.
And why?
Well, it says because he was seeking to justify himself, seeking to declare himself righteous
and worthy in the eyes of God and others by identifying God's standard and then meeting
it himself.
Verse 29 says, but he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, and who is my neighbor?
So he's trying to pinpoint the standard, right?
He's trying to pinpoint the standard of this love your neighbor as your self-command.
He's trying to discover what are its limits?
Who am I actually and reasonably responsible for loving?
Because he knows that this commandment, just on the face of it, that's a tall order if
it's just that, right?
Loving my neighbor as myself?
That's near impossible to love anyone as myself.
So surely this can't just mean anyone and everyone, right?
Surely there are limits to who my neighbors are and to who I am responsible to love and
to care for and to alleviate their needs.
This law expert is looking for an interpretation of the law by which he can justify himself.
And honestly, he's looking for and hoping for a limited interpretation of this law of love
so that he can say that he meets the standard.
Like many of us, he's hoping for a low standard so that he can actually meet it with his lifestyle.
He's hoping that he doesn't have to love as much as this commandment could possibly be
demanding.
But Jesus, right?
But Jesus is not a rabbi with low standards and neither is his God and Father in heaven whom he represents.
And so seeing that this law expert is trying to justify himself, seeing him trying to lower
the standard of love and redefine who our neighbors are, and seeing this law expert's confidence
in his own ability to meet the standard and earn for himself eternal life, Jesus has a story to tell.
Not just to answer this man's question, but to reveal the heart of God and the hubris of this
expert in the law.
Verse 30.
In reply, Jesus said,
A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho when he was attacked by robbers.
They stripped him of his clothes, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead.
So imagine the scene.
The Jericho road is known to be steep and dangerous.
It's a mountainous territory full of crags and caves, twists and turns.
And because it's a perfect hideout for bad actors to hide and strike and then escape with
great ease, it's known as the way of blood.
It's like the darkest alley in the worst parts of the city, only the nearest streetlight is
miles away.
And so, of course, a lonely traveler would be an easy target.
And Jesus' listeners probably heard stories like this all the time of awful things happening
on this Jericho road.
And so, of course, in this story, something awful does happen.
A lonely traveler finds himself helpless, stripped, naked, shamefully, violently, beaten,
bloody, forsaken, half dead, and hopeless.
He will likely die here unless, one, someone happens to stumble upon him on this treacherous
road that no one wants to go on.
And two, that person also decides to show him compassion.
So, Jesus continues.
And there are indeed glimmers of hope, actually, in the story.
Three glimmers of hope.
And for this Jewish traveler, two of these glimmers of hope are the exact kinds of people
he could have hoped for to help him in his greatest time of need.
A priest and a Levi.
Verse 31.
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 by on the other side.
These priests, and this priest and this Levite, they were exactly the kinds of people he would
have expected to help him.
Professional, religious people of the day called to serve God and to serve God's people and
to show and represent God's love and compassion.
And in the Jewish society, priests were actually the public health officials.
If you had an illness, they were the ones you went to for treatment.
The Levites themselves also were responsible for distributing alms to the poor.
And yet, we find here that neither of these two individuals decide to help the helpless man on the road.
And you know, if this fills you with indignation and disgust because of their lack of compassion
and maybe religious hypocrisy, then Jesus has actually caught you in his trap.
And you are convicting yourself.
Because the priest and the Levite, they had just as many rational reasons
to pass by this half-dead man as we do when we pass by all our neighbors.
Like, how would you really have responded in this situation?
If you were anxiously taking a shortcut through a dark alley,
you came across a groaning, bleeding man indicating violent thugs probably around the next corner,
what would you counsel your wife to do?
What would you counsel your children to do?
Truly, the wisest thing is to hurry on to safety.
That's the reality for this priest and this Levite.
They've stumbled upon a man with massive needs, massive needs too great for them to handle,
the physical needs of his bloody wounds and his nakedness,
practical needs for transportation and shelter,
social needs for a companion and caretaker,
emotional needs from his shame and trauma, financial needs.
He's penniless.
He's going to have medical bills, spiritual needs even,
as someone who might soon depart from this life to the next.
Maybe the priest and the Levites thought to themselves,
man, I want to help.
I have a good heart, but I don't even know where to start.
I don't think I have what it takes,
or it costs me too much, more than I could afford.
I don't have the finances or the skills or the time or the margin.
Imagine I've got my own story, my own agenda to tend to,
and I'm not sure I have time to be a part of this man's story.
Maybe the priest and the Levite had just gotten off their shifts, right,
at the temple from Jerusalem down to Jericho,
looking forward to getting back to their families,
just trying to make it home to them without any trouble,
not looking to enter anyone else's mess.
And like, what if they did try to help and this man died?
Then they would be ceremonially unclean,
and that would have implications for the time they spent with their family
and also for their jobs and their duties in the temple.
Was it really worth the risk to help this man?
Shouldn't they preserve themselves for their family's sake
and for the temple's sake?
And really, what did they have to gain?
No one else was around to see them be a hero,
and also no one was around to see them neglect this man either.
Might as well just pass by, right?
Might as well just pass by.
We must not downplay the exorbitant cost and risk
of helping this half-dead man
and how sensible it was for the priest and the Levite to pass him by.
We do this all the time ourselves.
And look, Jesus himself,
Jesus doesn't even condemn these two men,
the priest and the Levite.
He doesn't make them out to be bad guys in the story.
They're just normal.
They're you and they're me.
But the question is, is that all that God wants us to be?
The German theologian Dorothy Soule wrote,
in Jesus' story, there are thieves and victims,
specters and helpers,
and Jesus intended this story for the people of the spectator
or passerby type.
And isn't that us?
The passerby types.
This story is for us.
It's meant to challenge us to be more than passersby.
Living like the priest and the Levite might be the normal,
might be the reasonable,
might be the socially acceptable way to live,
but Jesus always offers,
he offers us always a higher, better, more beautiful way to live.
And this better way starts with how we see people.
How do we see people?
Look again at verses 30 and 31.
It says the priest and the Levite saw the man,
but still passed by.
And what Jesus is pointing out here is that,
sure, they both see him,
but do they really see him?
They don't see him with the compassionate eyes of God,
and they can't seem to see,
or maybe they just refuse to see,
the image of God in this man.
They see him,
and yet they see him as someone
who they can and maybe even should pass by.
They see him as not worth their time,
attention, and assistance.
And this is a word for us.
It's a point of application.
Do we see our neighbors?
Do we see the people around us,
the people on our paths,
and do we see them with the eyes of God?
Do we see the image of God all around us?
You know, my dad,
he's one of the most consistent
and principled men that I know.
And you know,
he's particularly committed to friendliness,
deference, and selfless service, all right?
So if you go for a walk with him,
like at Lake Chabot,
you might try to have a conversation with him,
but he's always interrupting the conversation,
looking up at people,
making eye contact with them,
and saying,
hey, good morning, good morning, right?
It's super annoying, actually.
And what's even more annoying is
I went on a trip with him one time.
We were in Manhattan, all right?
I had places to go.
I had things I wanted to see.
I'm zigging and zagging my way
through the crowd, right?
Just like everyone else is.
These people aren't people to me.
They're obstacles to be navigated, all right?
But like every few steps,
oh, excuse me.
Oh, pardon me.
Oh, you first.
Holding the door open for like 30 people
who don't even recognize
the man is holding the door for them, right?
That's my dad.
Super annoying to be his traveling partner.
But at the same time,
if I reinterpret my dad's actions
in the best possible light,
man, what he was really doing
was trying to be a consistent human being,
humanizing other human beings,
acknowledging the dignity and the worth
and the image of God
in every stranger he encountered,
even in New York City, right?
This place that, yeah,
we might think of as crowded and congested,
but at the same time,
a place that's covered
with so much image of God
per square foot, right?
What if we saw the world like that,
as covered with the image of God,
people and opportunities
to share the love of God with?
So again,
do we have eyes to see God's image
in others?
Or do we permit ourselves
to pass by
by seeing people as less than
what they're worth
in the eyes of God?
Think of all the people
you pass every day
on BART,
on your commutes,
all the people we pass by
without recognizing
the image of God in them.
And then maybe you think
I'm talking about
that homeless person
you drive past every day.
And yes,
I am talking about them,
but man,
I'm thinking some of us
are passing our spouses by
and our children
and our coworkers
and our fellow church members
and our next door neighbors.
Maybe we don't even know their names.
When Jesus said
to love our neighbors,
he meant more than just
our immediate neighbors,
but certainly not less.
G.K. Chesterton said,
we make our friends,
we make our enemies,
but God makes
our next door neighbor.
God is constantly
putting neighbors
into our path.
The question is,
will we see them?
Do we see them?
Loving starts with seeing them
and seeing them
with compassion.
And that was the difference
between the priest
and the Levite
and the Samaritan.
They all saw
the half-dead man,
but what does verse 33 say?
But a Samaritan,
as he traveled,
came where the man was,
and when he saw him,
he took pity.
In the Greek,
you could translate this.
He was filled
with compassion for him.
In the Greek,
splagitsomai,
all right?
He saw this man
and his insides churned
and his heart broke
and his guts ached.
It's the same word
that Jesus felt
when he saw the widow
who lost her son.
It's the same word
that the father felt
for his prodigal.
And listen,
this Samaritan's compassion
likely shocked
Jesus' original hearers
because the Jewish
and the Samaritan people,
they hated
and terrorized each other.
To the Jewish folks,
Samaritans were heretics
and half-breeds
who intermingled
with the pagans.
And to the Samaritans,
the Jewish people
were self-righteous
Jewish supremacists
who looked down
upon the Samaritans.
And if the tables
were turned,
a Jewish person
coming across
a half-dead Samaritan
might take the opportunity
to make him
a fully dead Samaritan.
And so one would have
expected the same
from this Samaritan
toward this half-dead man
lying in the road.
But the Samaritan here,
facing the same risks,
facing the same costs
as the priest
and the Levite,
and yet with even more
racial and cultural reasons
to not care,
the Samaritan shows
radical, unexpected,
and undeserved compassion
instead.
Look at verses 34 and 35.
It says,
he went to him.
He offered friendship
and advocacy
to this half-dead
Jewish stranger.
He risked his own safety,
gave physical protection,
gave up his schedule,
canceled his plans.
He bandaged his wounds,
pouring on oil and wine,
becoming dirty and bloody
by personally administering
medical treatment
to this person
who surely would have
considered him as unclean
just because of his race.
Then he put the man
on his own donkey,
which meant that he probably
had to walk
the rest of the way.
He made his resources
available.
He provided transportation
for this guy
and found shelter.
He brought him
to an inn
and he took care of him there,
spent a whole night
nursing this guy
and then financially,
he took out two denarii
and gave them
to the innkeeper.
He offered two days
worth of wages
for a few weeks' rent,
right?
He offered open-ended
generosity
in a situation
in which the chance
of extortion
was high, right,
from the innkeeper,
but he still said,
I will pay you
for any expense
he incurs.
And on top of all this,
he makes a follow-up plan.
He promises to return
and reimburse the extra expenses
to come back and visit
and he takes financial
responsibility
for this victim
without any arrangements
for repayment.
Now,
have any of us
loved anyone,
even our own beloved family
and friends,
not even mentioning
our enemies?
Have any of us
loved anyone
in the world
like this?
Jesus here
is saying that
this extravagant,
radical,
sacrificial love
is what God
not just suggests
but demands of us
when he tells us
to love our neighbors
as ourselves.
It's not a suggestion,
it's the law
of the Lord.
You know,
we often think
of the Good Samaritan
parable
as a lesson
on charity
and mercy
but it's actually
just as much
if not more
a lesson on justice.
Biblical justice.
See,
in the Bible,
the word for justice
doesn't simply mean
punishing those
who do wrong,
it means treating people
equitably.
It means honoring
the image of God
in other people
and giving people
what they are due.
Over and over again
in Moses' law,
it spoke of
caring for widows
and orphans
and immigrants
and the poor
not as a ministry
of mercy
but as a society's
responsibility
for upholding
justice.
Compassion
and loving
our neighbors
as ourselves
isn't just a matter
of charity
and generosity,
it's a matter
of justice.
And so let's be real,
we all fall short,
don't we?
This is why we confess
our failure
to love our neighbors
here every single week
in that liturgical moment,
the confession of sin,
because none of us,
none of us
has lived up
to this demand.
We are neither merciful
nor just
in the eyes of God.
And if we
take Jesus' words
to this law expert
seriously,
we know that
he couldn't justify himself
and neither can we.
We are guilty,
guilty, guilty
before this law of love
that God demands.
Even with respect
to the people
in our lives
that should be easiest
to love,
we have all severely
missed the mark.
And none of us
has done anywhere close
to what it takes
to inherit eternal life
in God's new creation.
Instead,
we've lived
according to the ethic
of a broken
and fallen creation
instead.
So where does that
leave us?
Well, it leaves us
at the mercy of God.
It leaves us
at the mercy of God.
And see,
that's what distinguishes
!
Christianity
from every other religion.
Christianity isn't unique
in telling us to love,
to care for the need,
to be good Samaritans,
to be kind,
loving,
compassionate,
and hospitable
to the poor.
Virtually every religion
teaches this.
And it either says,
oh, just try
and do your best,
like,
it's not that big a deal,
the standard's not that high,
or it says,
do this or else, right?
And absolutely crushes us
under the weight
of its guilt
and shame
for our failure
to love like this.
But what I want to suggest
is that only Christianity
offers the motor
that can actually
sustain and inspire
the kind of heartfelt,
radical compassion
that the law demands.
And that motor
isn't guilt and threats,
we'll never be guilted
or threatened
into loving our neighbors.
It's not hyper-vigilance,
discipline,
and hard work.
We are far too weak
and wicked to pull that off.
No, the motor
that Christianity provides
for us to love
as God demands
is the gospel.
It's the gospel.
I want you to notice here
how Jesus ends his discussion
with the law expert
in verse 36.
Which of these three
do you think
was a neighbor
to the man
who fell into the hands
of robbers?
The expert in the law
replied,
the one who had mercy
on him.
Jesus told him,
go and do likewise.
Now remember,
carefully,
think carefully,
and I remember
the original question
from the expert
was,
who is my neighbor?
Who do I have to love
and who do I have
to be responsible for?
But look,
Jesus doesn't ask
the same thing.
He doesn't ask,
who is the Samaritan's neighbor?
Who did the Samaritan
have to care for?
No, he flips the roles
and asks,
who was a neighbor
to the half-dead man?
The law expert
was asking,
who do I have to help
in order to have
eternal life?
But Jesus asked,
who would you want help
from in your time
of life-threatening need?
He puts him
in the place
of the man on the road.
You see,
most of us,
if we were trying
to make a parable,
trying to teach people
to love their enemy neighbors,
their Samaritan neighbors,
we'd probably say,
once upon a time,
a Jewish man
found a Samaritan
lying half-dead
on the road
and he cared for him.
Isn't that nice,
Mr. Law expert?
Go and do likewise.
The needy Samaritan
is your neighbor.
But honestly,
that'd just be
a moralistic story
that wouldn't have done
a thing
to this law expert's
self-righteous heart.
Jesus knows this.
He knows that
in the law expert's mind,
he is the hero
in his own story.
And he's trying to figure out
how much of a hero
he needs to be,
what heroic deed
he needs to do
to check the boxes
for eternal life
and be his own hero
to justify himself.
But by making
the Samaritan the hero,
when Jesus makes
the Samaritan the hero,
by making the Jewish man
the one close to death
and in need
of a neighbor,
Jesus is pointing us
to the only thing
that will actually
transform selfish sinners
like us
into self-giving people
of love like him.
By making the Samaritan
the hero,
Jesus' primary message
isn't,
hey guys,
be nice,
be a good Samaritan,
okay?
No.
By making the Samaritan
the hero
and the Jewish person
the one in need,
Jesus' message
to the law expert
and to us
is that we are
the ones
in need
of a good Samaritan.
We have to understand
that first
if we are ever
going to be
good Samaritans
ourselves.
We are the ones
lying half dead,
naked,
helpless,
penniless,
completely at the mercy
of someone
whose compassion
we don't deserve
at all
and who actually
has every reason
to forsake us
and crush us
because we all
like sheep
have gone astray
down the wrong
and treacherous road
of violence
and mayhem
loving neither God
nor our neighbors
but only ourselves
and things that are
unworthy of our love.
But the gospel says
that in Jesus Christ
God still sent us
the neighbor
we needed,
the ultimate
good Samaritan.
God became man.
He became the neighbor
who came near
to our bloody mess
to pour out his life
and all his resources
unto death
on a cross
to pay for our healing
and our health
to save and resurrect
his undeserving people
even when we
were hostile
to him.
And this
is the gospel.
This is the gospel.
This is the motor
we need to love
as God
requires of us.
We cannot earn
eternal life
by loving super hard.
We cannot.
It's only when
we acknowledge
that Christ
is the ultimate
good Samaritan,
the neighbor
we always needed.
It's then
and only then
that we will ever
begin to live
this eternal life
of self-giving love
as branches
growing from the vine
that he is.
It's only when
we acknowledge
that we have
the ultimate Samaritan
who loved us
at his greatest expense
that we will be able
to obey
either of the two
greatest commandments
with the help
of the Holy Spirit.
We only love God
because he first loved us.
We only love our neighbors
because he first loved us
as our good Samaritan neighbor
and he's given us
his spirit
to follow in his footsteps.
Our focus shouldn't be
who is my neighbor
that I have to love
but how can I be a neighbor
to whomever
is in my path?
How can I be like Jesus?
If you've experienced
the transformational
neighbor love
of Christ
toward you
that is the next question
for you.
What holy habits
of generosity
and service
will you take up
in response
to the good Samaritan
who generously served you?
What new
and uncomfortable paths
might you intentionally walk
and come into closer proximity with
just as Jesus came near to you?
Would you consider
fostering a child?
Supporting a foster family?
I'd love to talk to you
about that.
There's a wonderful organization
Foster the City
in this area.
Did you know that
even if just half
of the 700 churches
in Alameda County
had one new foster family
all the rest
of the foster children
in Alameda County
would be taken in?
There's also
our Care Portal team
that collaborates
with local social workers
to help families in need
or families
that are at risk
of their kids
being sent
into the foster system.
Join our Care Portal team.
Or would you
consider tutoring a child?
The pandemic
massively wrecked
the reading aptitude
of the children
of Oakland.
Harbor House
and Children Rising
are wonderful places
that you might volunteer
two hours every week
to help a child
learn to read
and build those skills.
Maybe your next step
is simply supporting
your first,
your second,
your third,
your fourth,
maybe your fifth
Compassion International Child.
We're a compassion church.
Or maybe it's volunteering
on March 15th
at Project Peace
East Bay Day of Service
or joining Abil
and Jesus,
our elders,
and feeding
and befriending
our homeless neighbors
in their loaves
and fishes ministry.
The next one's
on March 8th.
This is coming Saturday.
You'll learn more
about all of this
on our website
under Church Life
Serve With Us.
But what's our next step?
And this is a fitting season.
What a fitting season, right?
Ash Wednesday
is this Wednesday.
We hope that you'll
show up to that.
The beginning of Lent
is upon us.
And listen,
it's not merely
a season for self-denial
and individualistic
self-improvement.
The season of Lent
is just as much
a season for service
and giving.
So let's do it.
Jesus said,
go and do likewise.
Let's do it,
Christ Church.
Let's be truly
for the city
as we say every week.
And let's go
in the name of Jesus
to love and serve
this world.
Amen?
Will you pray with me?
Lord, show us
in Jesus Christ
that we have
not just the good Samaritan,
but the best one,
the ultimate one.
And help us
to go and do likewise
out of admiration
and gratitude
and compassion
for this world.
In your name we pray.
Amen.