Our Sermons

Bible Passage: Luke 10:25-37
Pastor: Pastor Schlicht
Sermon Date:  January 16, 2022

Let’s play a word association game. What’s the first thing that pops into your head when I say: “Good Neighbor?” I’m going to go out on a limb and say that most of you thought about “Jake, from State Farm,” or had that particular jingle going through your head, “Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there.” If you believe the commercials, this “Jake” is quite a neighbor to have. When you need him, day or night, he’s just a phone call  away in his khakis and polo, ready to help. But, what does a good neighbor look like biblically? Because as much as we might wish, real life is not a State Farm commercial. Not every problem can be solved with a phone call. And the most meaningful help is not usually the kind you have to pay for… By the end of this sermon, I hope your picture of a good neighbor is a little different. Instead of seeing khakis and a red polo attached to a voice on a phone, I hope you think of a good neighbor as someone a bit closer to home, not across the street or over the fence, but the someone who stares back at you in the mirror. Today, Jesus shows us what a good neighbor looks like only by God’s grace.

The story of the Good Samaritan is well known even by people who aren’t Christians. We even have Good Samaritan laws on the books. But it is for that very reason that it is often ripe for misinterpretation. It’s like one of those murder-mystery shows where the detective shows up and the local investigators have already assessed the evidence and conclude who was obviously the culprit, or that the death was clearly a suicide, not a murder. But the main detective always knows that the real truth is more complicated. That may be the case with this story, it’s a little too easy for Christians to be too sure about the Good Samaritan story—to think it’s just about doing good to others, or just pressing us to be merciful and generous to those in need. While those aspects are certainly there, the deeper truth is that the story Good Samaritan was originally bad news.

That’s why we’ll start with the context:  Just then, an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus, saying, “Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” This man hadn’t come to learn from Jesus, he had come to “test” him. He wanted an argument, he wanted to catch Jesus off balance and get into a heated debate about the Bible, which was his area of expertise. But Jesus, almost casually, reflects the question right back at the expert.  “What is written in the law?” he asked him. “What do you read there?”The man, being an expert in the law, then summarizes all of God’s requirements in two commands: He replied, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength, and with all your mind; (Deut 6:5) and, love your neighbor as yourself.” (Leviticus 19:18). And in response, Jesus agrees with him, completely deflating the test: “You have answered correctly. Do this, and you will live.” Jesus simply leaves it there. He doesn’t comment on if it’s possible to do this, only that it is necessary. He leaves the expert with his own prescription, the hopeless task of trying to love God and love our neighbors perfectly. Do you see the wisdom of our Savior? In love, he is trying to lead this man to see that he can’t do this on his own. He must trust in a Savior, which if he were really an expert in the Old Testament, he would understand. But the expert in the law doesn’t give up there. There is a crowd present and he doesn’t want to seem like he asked such a simple question. Luke says, “He wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” Isn’t it funny? The man who came hoping to put Jesus on the defense now feels he needs to justify himself. 

And that’s when Jesus tells the story of the Good Samaritan. And as the story proceeds the crowd would have had some clear expectations. The priest and the Levite are the religious all-stars of Judaism and yet when they see the battered fellow, they both ‘went by on the other side’. It may be that they didn’t want to contract ritual uncleanness if they were to come into contact with his blood or if he were to die while they were ministering to him. The Pharisees in Jesus’ day taught that you could become if even your shadow passed over a corpse. So perhaps this was the reason they avoided this desperate man. But even if we assume that was the case, which is the most charitable assumption, it shouldn’t have stopped them from helping because Jesus said that both the priest and the Levite are heading down to Jericho, not up to Jerusalem. Whatever their temple duties had been, they were finished for now. If they were leaving the city they would have had time to complete purity rituals if they did contract uncleanness when helping this man. But again, even with the best construction, anyone listening to this story that day would not think they did the right thing, the loving thing. This is such an effective story, because not only was this outcome plausible, but shameful. It’s no wonder why the religious leaders wanted to put Jesus to death, is it? But the surprise comes at the end of the story. It was the Samaritan—the Jews’ national enemy—that saved the man. Think Gaza Strip, Palestine-Israel hostility today. It was just as bad, the Samaritan—the one who the expert in the law would have least expected to be “good” to that Jewish man. (Notice at the end when Jesus questions him which of the three men acted like a neighbor, you can sense his disdain as he isn’t even willing to say the word  “Samaritan”, but described him as ‘the one who showed mercy’.) Which of these three do you think acted like a neighbor to the man who fell among robbers?” 37 “The one who showed mercy to him,” he replied. Then Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.” Jesus is ruthless here in that the expert in the law would have no doubt seen clearly that in the priest and the Levite Jesus was painting his own portrait, a man who was more concerned with looking and sounding good religiously, rather than loving as God desired.

Let’s be sure we pick up the emphasis of Jesus. We can miss it, because we tend to get sentimental over the good Samaritan and all the nice things he did for the man—how brave he was and how generous he was. But we may miss what Jesus was telling the guy who prompted the story in the first place. The man asked what must I do to inherit eternal life, and Jesus says judging by your own doctrine, you do not have life and you are very lost. Jesus will not urge the grace of God upon a man who doesn’t think he needs it. He leads him to despair of himself, for that repentance is where grace begins.

Do you see how the story exposes us, too? So often we too look the part but lack the love. We have pious sounding excuses, too, but in the end we know we aren’t doing what is right. We say “I would try to love and serve them …but she is trying to make me feel guilty. …but he is being so selfish! …but they are so small-minded. …but I’m busy and have other responsibilities. …but the help I give won’t do any good in the long run. …it won’t be financially prudent to love them.” We too try to justify ourselves by restricting our neighbors. Remember, God loves all human beings. God loves the world. Not ideal humans, but human beings as they are; not an ideal world, but the real world. What we find repulsive in others, what we think exempts people from being loved, what we shrink back from with pain and hostility, namely, real human beings, the real world, this is for God the ground of his unconditional love.

In other words, our lack of love for others is connected to our lack of love for God. Those two great commands of God’s law are sides of the same coin. You cannot hate people and love God at the same time. When we turn our back to our neighbor, we turn our back on God. Let us despair of ourselves and come to Christ, not to test him, but to desperately plead for his forgiveness, because repentance is where grace begins.

And there is much grace to be found in the story of the Good Samaritan. The Samaritan didn’t consider all the reasons he had not to help. He didn’t ask the question, “How does this affect me?” or “What would this guy do for me?” He just loved. He sacrificed. He went out of his way to help this man who probably would’ve run away from him if he could’ve. He used all his resources: bandages, oil, wine, money. He put the man on his donkey, and he walked. He gave the innkeeper his money and was committed to following through. That’s not what you do when you’re asking questions like, “What do I have to do?” or “How much is enough?” That kind of activity only comes when we realize what God has done for us. What does a good neighbor look like? It’s the one who is actually driven by love.

You see, Jesus not only teaches us what a good neighbor looks like, he also demonstrates it. In the story, it was the Samaritan that saw the man injured and wounded and didn’t pass by on the other side. In real life, Jesus saw us injured and wounded. For all the times we’ve been selfish, for all the times, we’ve made excuses instead of loved, for all the times we’ve tried to rationalize away God’s expectations—in other words, for all the times we’ve sinned—we were as spiritually helpless as that beaten man on the side of the road. And when Jesus saw us he set aside the pleasures of heaven for a time. He came here to bind our wounds and to take our sins upon himself. He came to prepare a place for us and paid with his own life for our eternal security. 

My friends, the truth is that you will only become a good neighbor in Jesus. Jesus makes us good neighbors. As we understand and grasp his love for us, we are empowered by him to love others. As the Holy Spirit allows us to appreciate all that God has done for us and the eternal riches he has stored for us in heaven, we are freed from being so concerned about selfish pursuits on earth. We are freed from ourselves so that we can be good neighbors to those around us, whoever they may be. 

You know, many people think that the idea of loving our neighbor is beautiful so long as it remains an idealized, abstract concept. But the concrete reality of loving our neighbor, that all-too-real, exasperating person that we would not have chosen and might prefer to escape, strips the beauty away—or so we’re tempted to think. Yet in truth, the beauty of idealized love is just an ideal; it is imaginary. But the beauty of Christ’s love is real and it is revealed in the self-dying, unchosen call to love the sinners whom God has placed in your life. And according to the Parable of the Good Samaritan, just like Christ’s love for you, the glory of your love shines the most when it is costly and inconvenient. When only someone driven by the love of Jesus would act in this way. 

If you’re looking for some ways to do that, if you need to be challenged to get yourself out of those old habits of only being loving to the loving—check out your commitment cards. There are some great ways to show love there—both individually and working together as a congregation. There are things on there for introverts and extroverts, for young kids as well as adults. We all can participate! But really it comes down to learning what Jesus  is teaching today. “Who is my neighbor?” is the wrong question. “What do I have to do?” is the wrong question. Only in Christ do we find freedom and the love which drives us to love others freely, not bound by the constraints of common conventional kindness, but able to be radically selfless and generous to those around us. What does a good neighbor look like? It looks like you. It looks like someone who loves Jesus and shows his mercy to others. May we “Go and do likewise.” Amen.