You’re Kidding, Right?
Luke 10:25-37
Not so long ago, the revival was how a preacher gathered a large crowd of people, in order to share the good news of Jesus Christ with people who were not regular attenders at church. A big tent would be set up on an empty lot, folding chairs brought in, and a stage would be constructed. Choir risers would promise stirring music beyond what most local churches could offer, which led toadvertising that hinted that this was going to be the best show in town. The hope was that people would come for the music, answer the altar call, and then keep enough inspiration to start attending church regularly.
Of course, this was before cable television dedicated whole channels to religious programming. This was before mega-churches offered orchestras and computer-controlled lighting and Hollywood-quality productions during worship. And this was before moviesand sports and other entertainments competed for the title of best show in town every night.
Many United Methodist Churches did revivals back then, but on a much smaller scale. There were no advance teams, just a few volunteers at the local church. Instead of setting up a tent, we held the services in the sanctuary. There might be special music brought in, but it was often the same local church choir that sang every Sunday. There were usually only a few visitors in the pews, and they were often members of other churches in town. And the preacher was often another United Methodist pastor, a friend of the local pastor who would come for expenses only.
It was under those conditions that I preached a 4-night revival at New Hampton, MO many years ago. I brought my Sears slide projector and some slides that had the words to the songs I was going to teach the people. And at the end of each service, instead of an altar call, the host pastor and I divided the congregation into small groups of 10-12 people to talk with them about their discipleship.
My group was the youth group. And one night the scripture was our reading for this morning. In our small group, I talked with them about the importance of loving our neighbors. These youth assured me that they already loved their neighbors. They had lived in this rural community all their lives. They knew each other, accepted each other, and helped each other. They were good to go, and there was nothing more they needed to do to be perfect disciples of Jesus Christ.
So I asked them a follow-up question – for “my own” clarification. I asked them, “Is there any one at school who is always the focus of pranks, who never gets invited to the parties, or who sits by themselves in the cafeteria?” Immediately, they named three youth, laughing as they told me about some of the pranks that had been pulled on these three. I listened to their stories, and their justifications for why these three deserved this kind of attention. When the laughing died down, I said, “These are the neighbors Jesus is calling you to love.” It got real quiet, and one of the youth said, “You’re kidding, right?”
Every time I read our scripture passage for today, when Jesus tells the lawyer to go and love his neighbor like the Samaritan did, I hear the lawyer say (in a voice that sounds suspiciously like a teenager in northwest Missouri), “You’re kidding, right?”
This is a famous scripture. Even people who have never read a Bible often know what it means to be a Good Samaritan. We have hospitals named for the Samaritan. There are even laws to protect people who offer assistance called the “Good Samaritan law.” But this passage isn’t really about the Samaritan. The Samaritan is just a character invented to illustrate a gospel truth. This passage is about a lawyer who asks Jesus a question.
Specifically, this lawyer asks Jesus a question about an inheritance. I don’t know about your experience with lawyers and inheritances, but this is my experience. When my father died over 20 years ago, the lawyer said that my father’s six children would be taken care of. And after all the debts were satisfied and the lawyer was paid, there were only two things left out of my father’s business and assets: an old Chevette which his girlfriend drove and thought of as hers, so we let her keep it; and a home-made trailer which cost more to have the title transferred than it brought when it was sold.
So, I hope you will excuse me that I sometimes get a little nervous when I hear lawyers asking questions about an inheritance. In my weaker moments, I get the feeling that some lawyers ask because they want to get a share of something that they would have no right to otherwisereceive without some kind of intervention.
But why does this lawyer ask about the inheritance of eternal life? The lawyer already knew that only God can give eternal life. So the question, to put a finer point on it, has become “what must I do to be a child of God, to receive the inheritance of eternal life?” That is a good question that all of us should ask. It is the kind of question that should be asked by everyone who knows that they have no right to receive eternal life unless there is some kind of intervention.
If we were to ask church persons what they had to do to inherit eternal life, I suspect we would get a lot of different answers. Some of those answers might be: In order to be a child of God, you have to go to worship. You have to tithe. You have to serve on a committee. You have to go on a mission trip. You have to avoid certain vices. You have to watch your language, at least in public. You have to dress a certain way. Do these things, and you will receive your inheritance.
To this, I think the world would say, “You’re kidding, right? That’s what it takes to get into heaven?” The people might think we were kidding because theyoften don’t see any significant difference between church people and everyone else.
Even though the lawyer asked, “what must I do?” I think he was really hoping to hear that he didn’t have to do anything more, or anything else. After all, if there isn’t any difference between heirs of the kingdom and regular sinners, then becoming an heir is nothing more than making sure your name gets on the list.
We can see this in the reading. The lawyer has answered well, and thinks a right answer is enough to get on the list. Many people still think that is enough: “Do you believe Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God?”“Yes.” “Welcome – you are now a member of the church and on the list of eternal heirs.” If the scripture ended right there, the lawyer would be very happy indeed.
But Jesus says we have to do something – wehave to love our neighbors. But the lawyer is ready for this. He knows that every requirement is subject to precedence and possible loopholes. Did Jesus mean the neighbor in good standing in my restricted kosher neighborhood? Did he mean my neighbor in the slums outside the walled city gates? Did he mean my new neighbors, the foreigner Romans, who have just moved into my neighborhood? Who is my neighbor?
Let’s review this again. The lawyer asks, "How do I get on the inheritance list?" and Jesus responds, “You know the law.” The lawyer says, “Yes I do, but it depends on how you define‘neighbor’?” Jesus leans into the man. “Ahhh, now we're getting somewhere. Let’s take that answer out of your head, and apply it to your heart.” And Jesus tells a heart-tugging story about being a neighbor.
A traveler was on his way to Jericho when he was beset by robbers who beat him and left him for dead alongside the highway. Now, by chance, a clergy person, a priest, happened to be walking down that same road. Good news, we think. Surely this guy will help the injured man. After all, that’s what the clergy are supposed to do, and we expect them to do it. Yet, the priest, on catching sight of the bloodied body, chooses to pass by on the other side of the road. And the crowd listening to Jesus thinks, “You’re kidding, right?”
We all recognize that the situation cries out for the priest to help. But stopping to help will throw off his schedule. Stopping to help would surely be messy, and unclean, and costly, and maybe not successful. Stopping to help might put the priest at risk. And besides, the priest already knows that he doesn’t have to, if he doesn’t want to.
The priest knows, as does the Levite who follows, that the law says we are to love our neighbors. But he also knows that there are verses that instruct a priest not to approach a dead body because it would defile him and prevent his priestly service to God. As is so often the case, there are conflicting precedents within the law. Most people decide that what takes precedence when there is a conflict is whichever choice most benefits us. If doing something is seen as too big of a risk, without enough reward, then we don’t do it.
Joe Garagiola, a former major league catcher, tells about a time when Stan Musial came to the plate in a critical game. Musial was at the peak of his career. The opposing pitcher in the game was young and nervous. Garagiola was catching, and he called for a fastball to be pitched to Musial. The pitcher shook his head. Joe signaled for a curve, and again the pitcher shook him off. He then signaled for one of the pitcher's specialties – stillthe pitcher hesitated. So Joe went out to the mound for a conference. He said, “I’ve called for every pitch in the book, and you shook them off. What do you want to throw?” “Nothing,” was the pitcher’s shaky reply. “I just want to hold on to the ball as long as I can.”
The priest and the Levite were trying to hold on to their status as heirs, but without taking too much of a risk. All too often, we treat our inheritance of eternal life like that pitcher, and the priest, and the Levite. We want to hold on to it for as long as we can, keeping it and ourselves untainted by contact with an unclean world, afraid that if we let go terrible things might happen. Yet, one of the deep truths of our Christian faith is that it is only in letting go that we can receive the inheritance of eternal life through Jesus Christ. And the lawyer in us responds, “You’re kidding, right?”
We have to let go of what others might think about us when we help persons in need, particularly when those persons are outcasts. We have to let go of those limiting things that define us, so that we can be defined by our relationship with God and our neighbors. We have to let go of our pride, so that we can be filled with the humble love of Jesus. We have to let go of our power, so that we can receive the power of the Holy Spirit. We have to let go of our claims of worthiness, so that we can receive justification by grace through faith in Jesus Christ. We have to let go of our life in this world, so that we may have life eternal.
But that is what Jesus did. Jesus let go of everything except love of God and love of neighbor. Jesus let go of everything that this world considers important so that all that remained was the kingdom, and the power, and the glory of God, forever and ever. And because Jesus could let go of everything else, he could intervene on our behalf before God, atoning for our sins, and making us heirs of salvation. He did this so that we don’t have to worry about standing before God at the Pearly Gates, and watching God look over the account of our many mistakes and sins, afraid that God will hesitate before saying, “You’re kidding, right?”
What must we do to inherit eternal life? Love God. Love your neighbor, as the grace of Jesus Christ enables you. And who is my neighbor? They are the people we find them where cross the crowded ways of life.
Hymn 427 “Where Cross the Crowded Ways of Life”