Luke 10:25-37 / Proper 10C
Let us pray:
God, in your mercy, show us our complicity in injustice; convict us for our
indifference; forgive us when we have remained silent; equip us with a zeal for
righteousness and never let us grow accustomed or acclimated to
unrighteousness. Amen.[1]
I don’t know about you, but after a week of news
focused on the death of two black men by police officers and then 5 police
officers killed by sniper attack during a rally that was intended by its
organizers to be a peaceful protest, I’m
not sure I’m ready for more provocation.
I’m not ready for more Ferguson, more Cleveland, more Baltimore, more
New York City, more Chicago. In fact,
I’m a bit tired of it all and I suspect you may be too. So, we gather here on a Sunday morning –
perhaps seeking some comfort and some solace – some rest for our tired and
broken hearts. But you know who else is
tired? You know who else wants comfort and solace? Our black brothers and sisters. Our black brothers and sisters who are tired
too but who have been fighting and fighting and fighting and, asking God,
"How long? How much longer must we wait for justice?” And so those of us
here today wanting rest must pray now the words that will be a part of our
Eucharistic Prayer later this morning:
“Dear God, deliver us from the presumption of coming to this Table for
solace only, and not for strength; for pardon only, and not for renewal.”[2]
And today, we have a parable – a familiar tale – often
called the Parable of the Good Samaritan.
It is a story that many of us learned in Sunday School and the lesson
that most of us learned was that we, as Christians, are the Good Samaritans –
or, at least, should strive to be like the Good Samaritan – helping those who
are less fortunate than ourselves. But
here’s the deal. The parables aren’t
meant to tell us something we already know.
Of course, we should help someone on the side of the road who is beaten
and lying in a ditch! Any sensible
person knows that. But Jesus didn’t tell
this story because he thought his followers – in the first century or in the 21st
century - might want to hear a story about something we already know! No, he
told the parables to indict his followers, to indict us – to provoke us; to
provoke us to change.
I had an opportunity a couple of months ago to hear
Professor Amy-Jill Levine of Vanderbilt Divinity School speak at Bexley
Seabury’s Spring Convocation in Chicago.
She is a self-described “Yankee Jewish feminist who teaches in a
predominately Protestant divinity school in the buckle of the Bible Belt” and
is perhaps best known for her dedication to eliminating anti-Jewish, sexist and
homophobic theologies. In her keynote
address to the Convocation she spoke of how our misunderstandings of Jesus’
Jewish culture can create misinterpretations of the parables he told and how a
fresh understanding may provide new and provocative messages applicable for
today.
According to Levine, the word “parable” means to set
side by side things which do not go together.
She goes on to say that if our interpretation makes us more comfortable or more complacent then it is probably not a good interpretation.[3] So hearing the story of the Good Samaritan
and saying, “ah, yes, I am like the Good Samaritan” and stopping there . . .
not such a good interpretation. So what
do we really have at work here? What two things are being set side-by-side
which do not go together? Let’s start
with a little context.
Jesus tells this story to a lawyer who asks what he
needs to do to inherit eternal life.[4] This lawyer already knows what the law says –
“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 your neighbor as yourself.”[5] And Jesus says, YES, YES, you are EXACTLY
right and then goes on to tell him this simple story about a man in a ditch, a
simple story about the men who pass him by, and a simple story about one man
who ultimately comes to his aid. And he
tells them this story not to demonstrate what a good man this lawyer is but
rather to indict him – to indict him for being like the priest and the Levite,
good religious men in the story, who pass by the man in the ditch and who do nothing, who say nothing, who change
nothing. And what makes the story so
provocative is that the hero in the story is a Samaritan and the first century
Jews hated the Samaritans.
This enmity between Samaritans and Jews dated back
more than 5 centuries – to the time of the Babylonian exile. Both Jews and Samaritans shared the same
scripture but they interpreted it in very different ways. “The split between the Jews and the
Samaritans gradually widened until eventually . . . the Samaritans built their
own temple on Mount Gerizim” about 30 – 35 miles northwest of Jerusalem.[6] The Jews, on the other hand, maintained that
the Jerusalem Temple was the only place to worship God.
Now hate is a strong word and yet, in the 1st
century it was an accurate way to describe the relationship – or lack of
relationship - between Jews and Samaritans.
So, what did the lawyer think after hearing Jesus’ story about the
“good” Samaritan ---hearing this parable – this setting side by side two things
which do not go together --- good and Samaritan--- and hearing Jesus conclude
by saying, “Go and do likewise?”[7] And
what are we to think?
On Friday at noon, I had the privilege of attending a
prayer vigil at Second Baptist Church in the wake of this week’s violence. I say I had the privilege to attend because
it is true. I have privilege just about
everywhere I go because of the color of my skin. I grew up being able to ride my bike all
around the neighborhood without fearing for my safety. I grew up being able to wander the aisles of
the local candy store without being followed because I looked like I might be
the sort of kid who steals things. I
grew up knowing that studying hard would get me into the college of my choice.
Today I don’t need to have a talk with my nieces or my nephew about what to do
if they are pulled over by the police because in my experience when people with
white skin like mine are pulled over it is because we have actually been
speeding, driving the wrong way on a one way street, or really do have a
taillight out. I can reach into my glove
box for my insurance card and registration and not fear being shot. Today I do not fear for the safety of my
nieces and my nephew. Today I do not
fear that I may be next. And this is
what it means to have privilege. White privilege.
It is tempting for those of us with white skin to get
defensive when hearing about Alton Sterling, Philando Castile, Michael Brown,
Trayvon Martin, Eric Garner, Freddie Gray, Tamir Rice . . . do I need to
continue the litany of brown- and black-skinned martyrs? It is tempting to
reply to the declaration that Black Lives Matter with a shout of ALL Lives
Matter or, in the wake of Thursday night’s sniper attack in Dallas with a cry
of BLUE Lives Matter. But here’s the
truth. While we may want to live in a world where ALL Lives DO Matter – after all that
is what our baptismal covenant says – that we will respect the dignity of EVERY
human being - the fact is, that today – and for at least the past 400 years –
White Lives have mattered more. That’s
called White Privilege and it is at the root of the Systemic Racism on which
our society was founded and built. I
want desperately for ALL Lives to Matter; but, until they do, I must add my
voice to the cry that BLACK Lives Matter.
And what about blue lives? What about the lives of the men and women who
are sworn as police officers to “well and truly serve . . . without favor or
affection, malice or ill-will. . . [to] see and cause our community’s peace to
be kept and preserved?”[8] What comedian Jon Stewart said so eloquently
in 2014 remains true today:
“You can truly
grieve for every officer who's been lost in the line of duty in this country,
and still be troubled by cases of police overreach. Those two ideas are not
mutually exclusive. You can have great regard for law enforcement and still
want them to be held to high standards."[9]
So, again, to be clear: Black Lives Matter. Period.
And that may make some of us uncomfortable. And that’s o.k.
Today we have a parable – a setting side by side of
things which do not go together. What
are we to think when we hold up the light of the good news as told in this parable
to the news of another black man killed?
What are we to do? What are we to
say? As a white skinned person, it is
tempting – and easy – to declare, “I am the Good Samaritan in the story.” But the truth is, more often than not, I am
the priest or the Levite who looks the other way – saying nothing, doing
nothing, changing nothing – because at the end of the day, I can go home to the
comfort of my bed and wake up the next day with my privilege, my life still
intact.
This story – this parable - is meant to provoke
us. Our worship is meant to provoke us. Philando Castile and Alton Sterling are dead
this week. Five Dallas police officers
are dead this week. Who is the man in
the ditch in our modern day news cycle?
Who are the priests and the Levites?
Who are the Samaritans in our society?
Who are you in the story? And is
it who you want to be? Is it who God is
calling you to be?
I want to close this morning with the words of one of
our African-American brothers. His name
is Bernard Little and he is a minister at Second Baptist Church. This is what he posted on his Facebook page
on Thursday morning – words that were read at an Evanston prayer vigil on
Friday and again at an Evanston Black Lives Matter protest last night:
“Facebook
Family and Friends,
I
pray it not be the case but want and need your help if it were the case. If I
am next, please let my daughters and my wife know that I truly loved and adored
them. Let them know that I wish my life wasn’t taken by a senseless killing,
but for whatever reason it was. Let them know that regardless of what the media
says, I tried every day to be a good man but a better father and a loving
husband. Let them know their father loved the Lord and prays they do the same.
If
I am next, hug Krystal
Pernell Little for me. Let her know that I believe in her and wish I
was there to support her but I know that she can make it in the end. Make her
laugh. Wake her up in the morning and ensure she remembers where her glasses
are and to take her allergy medicine. Love her for me. Buy her a sweater
because she gets cold easily and every now and then make sure she has a steak.
She doesn’t like red meat, but if cooked well-done and seasoned properly, she
will appreciate it.
If
I am next, buy Peyton books every now and then. Listen to her dreams and answer
as many questions as she has. She has a lot of them. Let her lay with you, and
ensure her that she will be alright. She will miss her daddy. Please ensure
that she overcomes her emotions and remembers that daddy loved her. Make her
eggs in the morning with a side of avocado and tomatoes. Roma tomatoes. She
likes those the best. Don’t let her food touch each other on the plate and make
sure she pushes herself to achieve great success.
If
I am next, encourage Parker in every way but allow her to be quiet and come
around. Ensure her that no matter how loud the world is, she is safe and
secure. Watch her in large crowds, she hates them. But she is getting better.
Make her chicken and make her noodles. Never together though. And give her
chocolate frosting. When she’s up to it, let her help you cook. She really
loves slicing vegetables. But she doesn’t eat them all the time. Don’t force
her. And make sure that her mother doesn’t give her too much candy.
If
I am next. Take care of my girls. Love them. Fight for them. Keep pushing for
equality and a better world that they will rule one day. Teach them to drive.
Peyton really wants to learn. Attend their sporting events and recitals. Hug
them before they are baptized and let them know that God loves them. Give them
flowers on prom night. Scream too loud on graduation. Walk them down the aisle
for me if and when they choose to do so and love whoever they decide to love.
And sing. Because it annoys them but they know that daddy always had a song in
his heart.
If
I am next, please just love my girls.”[10]
Look around you. We are all
God’s beloved. Who among us will be a
good neighbor?
May the souls of Alton Sterling, Philando Castile, Brent Thompson,
Patrick Zamrippa, Michael Krol, Michael Smith, and Lorne Ahrens rest in peace
and rise again in glory. Amen.
God, deliver us from the presumption of coming to your Table for solace
only, and not for strength; for pardon only, and not for renewal. Amen.
[1]
Adapted from the concluding prayer by Yolanda Pierce from “A Litany for Those
Who Aren’t Ready for Healing,” Kinetics
Live, accessed online, July 7, 2016.
[2]
Eucharistic Prayer C, Book of Common
Prayer¸ 372.
[3]
Amy-Jill Levine, “Of Pearls and Prodigals:
Hearing Jesus’ Parables,” Telling
It Fresh April 28: Chicago Convocation 2016, Bexley Hall Seabury Western
Theological Federation Inc., April 28, 2016.
[4]
Luke 10:26.
[5]
Luke 10:27.
[6] Bernhard
W. Anderson, Understanding the Old
Testament, 4th edition, (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall,
1986), 530.
[7]
Luke 10:37b.
[8] Jim Heitmeyer, “Police Officer's Oath,” Law Officer Connect: Police and Law Enforcement Network, March 29, 2010, accessed online, July 8, 2016.
[8] Jim Heitmeyer, “Police Officer's Oath,” Law Officer Connect: Police and Law Enforcement Network, March 29, 2010, accessed online, July 8, 2016.
[9]
Jon Stewart, “A Single Factual Error,” The
Daily Show, December 8, 2014, accessed online July 8, 2016, [warning: strong language].
[10]
Bernard Little, July 7, 2016, accessed online July 8, 2016.
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