The road from Jerusalem to Jericho is a dangerous road – for 18 miles it goes down-hill becoming dry and barren along the way. Many people travel this road, for trade, as pilgrims en-route for the Holy days, and festivals in Jerusalem.
By the side of the road are rocky outcrops, places for robbers to hide, then spring out and attack lone travellers before slinking back into the desert via escape routes where pursuit is impossible.
When Jesus says “a man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho” everyone knew how dangerous this was.
Anyone who was robbed and beaten on this road would have been very vulnerable – with no water or shelter they would be utterly exposed and isolated—desperate for help. And anyone coming upon such a victim would not be able to avoid them. At points, the road is so narrow, a passerby would have had to literally step over their body.
When the priest comes along, the expectation then and now, would be that they would stop and help the poor man, attacked, beaten and left half dead by the side of the road.
Perhaps the priest couldn’t tell whether the man was dead or alive – if dead, the Jewish laws meant he couldn’t touch the body without making himself ritually unclean, and so unable to carry out his duties in the Temple. But if the man was alive, then there was no excuse for not helping him.
When Jesus says that a Levite comes along next – his hearers would have been settling in comfortably for a story running along predictable lines.
The hierarchy of Jewish society is being made an example of here surely – the high-class priest and Levite both fail in their moral duty – shocking – but rather enjoyable for those listening to see their supposed betters coming off badly. Surely the next person to come along the road, who of course will stop and help, will be an ordinary Jewish traveller – someone just like them – and they will smile comfortably and knowingly at each other and will go home reinforced in their usual way of thinking, their black-and-white world of who is in and who is out, unchanged in the way they look at certain people or cultures.
But of course, that’s not what Jesus goes on to say.
Absolutely the last person who would stop and help the Jewish man, lying there half dead, would be a Samaritan – he’d be more likely to have finished him off!
But amazingly, he tends the man’s wounds, puts him on his own donkey and even takes him to the safety of an inn, paying for all his needs until he is well again. He doesn’t just do the bare minimum but goes above and beyond.
Samaritans, to Jewish listeners, would never have been ‘Good’. They were looked upon not only as outsiders, but as the mortal enemies of the Jewish nation and people. They were defectors from the Jewish religion. For those listening to Jesus’ story, a Samaritan was totally unacceptable.
We often understand the story of the Good Samaritan as being about how we must help others – we mustn’t walk by on the other side and ignore those in need.
Well, that’s true of course – we are faced with this more and more it seems, people begging, needing help, people on the streets, outside our doors, sitting, lying by the side of the road. What does being a Good Samaritan look like for these people?
But we also need to take on board something else – this is not just a story – it’s a parable. When Jesus tells parables its to make us rethink our values, to examine our assumptions – to see things differently. Parables are dynamite – they get Jesus into trouble – they turn the world upside down and they are meant to.
The real question being addressed by the parable is – ‘who is my neighbour’?
The answer is that our neighbours are not just the people we consider ‘the insiders’ with whom we share values, or faith, language or background – the ones we feel safe or comfortable with – in other words- the ones like us.
If Jesus were to tell this parable today – I wonder who the characters would be? The victim a Ukrainian woman, the Good Samaritan a Russian General perhaps? Or a white supremacist US policeman and a Black woman whose only son was stopped, searched, and shot?
The fact is, uncomfortable as it may be – our neighbours are everyone. As an inclusive church we claim that we welcome all people in the name of Christ – this means everyone!
Not just those we like, or agree with, or whose cause, worthy though it is, we champion. It means absolutely everyone, even those who don’t agree with us being an inclusive church! It means those who beg on our streets, sleep in our porches, and aren’t always polite or well behaved. And it means those who have been residents of HM’s pleasure in the prison in our parish. In the parable, if we struggle with the idea of the Samaritan being a neighbour to the Jew, then another challenging question is who is the neighbour to the robbers?
As soon as we start to draw any lines of acceptability, we are in trouble!
Jesus makes clear here, elsewhere and always – everyone is welcome in the Kingdom of Heaven – whether we find that acceptable or not – God makes no distinction – the invitation is for all and all are our neighbours. Jesus’ message is that the kingdom of God knows no political or religious or ethnic or cultural boundaries – no rigid barriers between insiders and outsiders.
We live in a global society in which we interact constantly and yet so many people and countries want to protect their borders and keep everyone else out rather than to welcome and invite them in.
In the parable of the Good Samaritan, the wounded man has no choice but to accept the kindness and mercy of someone he would normally hate and despise.
But the parable is not a story about a nice person who helps his dying enemy – it’s about who we think the nice people are. The Parable of the Good Samaritan challenges our values and forces us to acknowledge the mercy of those we distrust or don’t like.
We are left, as with many of the parables of Jesus, with a view of the kingdom of God that we may not find very comfortable – it just might mean that to enter it ourselves, we have to accept the presence of those who we would rather weren’t there, and to recognise that we need them to be whole.
To enter the kingdom of God is to move beyond social expectations – our supposed enemy may turn out to be our greatest benefactor and the Father whom Jesus reveals is the God of the whole family of the human race.
Sermon: Reverend Michelle Dalliston. 10th July 2022. (St John The Baptist Church Peterborough UK)
Referenced Scripture: St Luke Chapter 10 vs 25-37
Photo: North Window St John The Baptist Church