Seventh Sunday after Pentecost

Seventh Sunday after Pentecost – Proper 10 Year C (RCL) 2010
Deut. 30: 9 – 14; Psalm 25: 1 – 9; Colossians 1: 1 – 14; Luke 10: 25 – 37
St. Stephen’s Episcopal Parish, Portland, OR
Sunday, July 11, 2010

“WON’T YOU BE MY NEIGHBOR”

Let us pray: God of our ancestors and of our children’s children; we have long struggled as you’re chosen to know who you call us to love as our neighbor. There are so many who claim our love in a world that has such need. Guide us to a right understanding of your commandment to love them as we love ourselves. Turn our hearts to know that the commandments that you call us to are not beyond our capabilities to obey. Widen our narrowness of heart, mind and spirit so that we might become the embodiment of your Word, which is very near to us. May we who gather in your temple be fed by your Word and Sacrament and go out to become food for our neighbors. Amen.

(SUNG) JESU, JESU FILL US WITH YOUR LOVE,
SHOW US HOW TO SERVE
THE NEIGHBORS WE HAVE FROM YOU

Sh'ma Yis'ra'eil Adonai Eloheinu Adonai echad. Barukh sheim k'vod malkhuto l'olam va'ed. V'ahav'ta eit Adonai Elohekha b'khol l'vav'kha uv'khol naf'sh'kha uv'khol m'odekha. “Hear, Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One. Blessed be the Name of His glorious kingdom for ever and ever. And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might.” These are words of prayer, which are taken from the Hebrew book of Deuteronomy (6: 4 – 9) and referred to, by the first word of the prayer as the “shemah”. It is considered the most important prayer in Judaism and its twice-daily recitation is a “mitzvah” or religious commandment. In a religion and culture dominated by law and commandment – this prayer would be as familiar to an observant Jew as “for thine is the Kindom and the power and the Glory, forever and ever” would be to observant protestant Christian. The prayer would continue with further wording from the 11th Chapter, verses 13-21 and would conclude with text from the Book of Numbers 15: 37 – 41. The remainder of the prayer commands that the words be taught to the children; that they be prayed when rising up or lying down and written on the doorposts of the house and gates. It tells of the rewards that will come from God for living out these commandments – and conversely gives an admonition about failing to heed these commands lest we arouse the wrath of God.

(SUNG) KNEELS AT THE FEET OF HIS FRIENDS, SILENTLY
WASHES THEIR FEET, MASTER WHO ACTS AS A SLAVE
TO THEM. JESU, JESU FILL US WITH YOUR LOVE, SHOW US HOW TO SERVE THE NEIGHBORS WE HAVE FROM YOU.

My point in sharing the text and the message of the “shemah” with you this morning is that the Lawyer in today’s story from the Author of Luke/Acts account knew already the answers to his questions before he asked them. Jesus was aware of this and calls this character on his stuff! A “lawyer” from the time and culture of this story would have been a lawyer of the Talmud – of the law of the Hebrew people handed down to them from the Prophets. This lawyer would have learned the “shemah” at his father’s knee – able to recite it before he even knew what it meant or what it commanded. Jesus knew this law just as well and was not interested in being dragged into a rabbinical argument about the finer points. So, Jesus asks the lawyer to tell what he interprets to be necessary to inherit eternal life. The lawyer recites the 3rd line of the “shemah” – “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and will all your mind,” and then adds a command from the Levitical Code – “and your neighbor as yourself.” Ah, here comes the “twist” in the story. Jesus tells the man – your right, you have the right answer – do this and you will live. Not willing to leave well enough alone – the lawyer presses on – and who is my neighbor? Here is the deep question that lies at the heart of our relationship with God and with each other. Who is it that God commands me to love; who is it that God loves? Who is it that is worthy of my time, my money and my energy? The same question, put in its reverse leaves an interesting conundrum – who is it that God commands me not to love; who is it that God does not love?

Jesus’ response to that questions leads to the story of the Samaritan who was traveling down from Jerusalem to Jericho. We are all familiar with this story, which appears only in the Luke/Acts account. We call the story the “good Samaritan” though Jesus never refers to it by this title; and the very statement would have been an oxymoron to the ears of those in Jesus’ time who heard it – “good” and “Samaritan” simply did not appear in the same sentence. We’ve explored the history of the Hebrew and Samaritan peoples before; and we know that Samaritan’s were not beloved of the Jewish people to put it politely. The true “twist” within the story though is the introduction of the “hero” being a Samaritan. The priest was of the highest social status, followed by the member of the tribe of Levi – and one would have expected in the natural progression of the “characters” in the story that the third person would have been a faithful member of one of the other tribes of Israel. This is where Jesus broadens the scope of inclusion to dare and suggest that the favor of God – and the example of hospitality and Godly concern come from the hands of a Samaritan. That, however, is Jesus’ point. That was always Jesus’ point – to delight in the despised; to welcome the wretched to sanctify the sinner. The Samaritan in Jesus’ story does not stop to calculate the costs and risks associated with helping the injured person who needed assistance. The Samaritan does not have an internal debate about what his feelings tell him he should do; the Samaritan doesn’t stop to consider what he thinks he should do – the Samaritan simply takes the action and does what he and everybody else who passed by knows should be done. I was struck earlier this week by a comment which I read from a story in the Book titled Alcoholics Anonymous (which we lovingly refer to as “the big book” and reads: “You explained the Big Book had no chapters titled “Into Thinking” or “Into Feeling” – only “Into Action.” When Jesus asks the lawyer who of the characters in the story was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers – the lawyer, unable to even speak the name of his perceived “enemy” says “The one who showed him mercy”. Jesus, who had ample opportunity at this point to chide, deride or scold simply says – “Go and do likewise.”

SUNG) NEIGHBORS ARE RICH AND POOR
NEIGHBORS ARE BLACK AND WHITE
NEIGHBORS ARE NEAR BY AND FAR AWAY.

JESU, JESU FILL US WITH YOUR LOVE,
SHOW US HOW TO SERVE
THE NEIGHBORS WE HAVE FROM YOU

Despite what we know to be the “right” thing to do; despite the example we have in Jesus’ life, death and resurrection and the lessons taught to the disciples and passed down to us in the gospel stories we often fail to live up to this call to “Go and do likewise.” I remember the incident from my youth of Kitty Genovese. Do you remember it? It led to a great national ethical discussion. Kitty Genovese was a young woman in New York who, one on early spring evening in 1964 was raped, stabbed repeatedly, and left bleeding in a stairwell in the Borough of Queens in New York City. That’s how horrible crimes occur. But this terrible crime was notable because it occurred within the full hearing of Kitty Genovese’s neighbors. Over a period of about 45 minutes, Ms. Genovese screamed, cried out for help, and pled for someone to intervene. In the investigation afterwards, it was revealed that a least a dozen of her neighbors actually heard her cries for help. And no one did anything. Many of us know, instinctively, even without having to think about it, what we ought to do, but doing what we ought to do is another issue.

“Good Samaritan” stories abound in our own culture and the phrase has even been borrowed by to describe certain behaviors. “Good Samaritan Laws” exempt those who might stop to help an injured person, and by their actions cause further injury or death to the person – and frees them from any “liability”. A modern day “Good Samaritan” story evolved just about a year ago on the upper slopes of Mt. Everest. On the morning of May 26, less than 1,000 feet from the summit, American guide Daniel Mazur abandoned his own climb toward the top of the world to save another climber who had been left for dead by his own team. Despite the fact that Mazur’s decision to aid the fallen mountaineer meant that none of his group, which included two paying clients (at $60,000/person) would make it to the summit, Mazur’s action acknowledged who his neighbor was. The fallen climber was Australian Lincoln Hall, who had succumbed to the oxygen-poor altitude the previous night and become desperately ill. The two guides with him tried to help, but they eventually had to leave to save themselves. Hall was declared dead, but when Mazur and his team found him the next morning, he was sitting up, though disoriented. Mazur’s team gave him emergency assistance and set to work to bring him down the mountain. They also radioed for help, but by the time others arrived to take over the rescue, Mazur’s group had expended too much energy at that life-sapping altitude to complete their own summit bid. While Mazur’s team was helping Hall, two Italian climbers passed by en route to the top, and Mazur asked them to assist. The pair claimed not to understand English and kept moving. Later, their claim was discovered not to be true. We may not claim that we don’t know who is our neighbor. We may not claim that we don’t understand the commandment to love our neighbor as ourselves; for it is not a difficult concept and it is taught to most of us at our parent’s knee. What then is it that prevents us from doing that which we know to be the right thing? Ethicist’s and Moral Theologians have written volumes around the failure of humanity to do what it right toward our neighbor. In spite of our tendency to protect ourselves and “our kind” from the onslaughts and horrors of human behaviors – we know that our neighbors are Jews and Gypsies and Homosexual’s imprisoned in Nazi concentration camps. We know that our neighbors are starving and malaria weakened refugees in Darfur. We know that our neighbors are hungry and homeless families in Lane County. We know what is the right thing to do. “Go and do likewise.”

(SUNG) NEIGHBORS ARE RICH AND POOR
NEIGHBORS ARE BLACK AND WHITE
NEIGHBORS ARE NEAR BY AND FAR AWAY.

JESU, JESU FILL US WITH YOUR LOVE,
SHOW US HOW TO SERVE
THE NEIGHBORS WE HAVE FROM YOU

Amen