I have a confession to make. There are a few Bible passages that come up in worship and teaching often and prompt me to think with a tedious sigh, “Oh. That passage again.” Yes, that response is sinful and disgusting. And the parable of the Good Samaritan, which is the Gospel for the 13th Sunday after Trinity, has been one of those passages.
But I am glad to say the Lord and two excellent sermons on this parable disabused me of that putrid attitude. First my Rector used the occasion to preach against false notions of social justice prevalent today. I am encouraged by this and other signs of push back in ACNA. He also noted that the inn symbolizes the church, something I had either forgotten or missed.
Then I read Sunday’s sermon at Pusey House from the Principal, George Westhaver. I found it a delight, full of history and interpretation that is new to me. The significance of traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho, the connection between the Gospel and Epistle lessons for Trinity 13, interpretations of the two denarii – these are among the new (or forgotten) things the sermon taught me. And, yes, the Principal’s thankfulness for the lawyer’s question also made me smile.
Need I say more? Read his sermon! (It can also be found at the Pusey House site. Be aware that his sermons are prepared for delivery more than for reading. There may be an occasion abbreviation or typo.)
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TRINITY 13 2020, The Good Samaritan Jesus Christ, Pusey House
Now which of these three was neighbour….
The hero of the Gospel story is obviously the Samaritan who cares for the injured man. But the Samaritan is not the only one for whom we may be grateful, we may also be grateful to the lawyer and his questions. People have many jokes about lawyers, but here lawyer is a kind of hero also. Who is my neighbour? The Lawyer’s questions alert us to an important challenge. How do I recognize my neighbour, know the call to love? We’ll look at the answer in a moment, but notice – both the lawyers questions were asked in part for bad reasons. We are told that lawyer wanted to tempt Christ, and that’s what the devil did. And then, we are told that he wanted to justify himself, which is what the Pharisee from Gospel a few weeks ago did, and we know that this is dangerous also. But, in the mercy of God, even these bad motives are turned to good. Thank God for the lawyer, not only for the good in his question, but also for the way the Lord Jesus turns bad to good, death to life. We pray or we ask questions of God for many reasons, and sometimes, with bad and good mixed up in or hopes and in our motives. Yet, if we take questions to Christ, if we persevere in our desiring and asking, we have a good hope that even our confused motives will be turned to good. I may pray for peace of mind, and don’t get it. And then, I am given grace to see that I don’t know the things which belong to my peace, then I see that the Lord is calling me to change so that he can give His peace.[1]
Some of you will have heard me speak about how his parable is presented in the stained glass of Chartres cathedral. When great Gothic cathedrals were built, filled with stained glass. In golden age of late 12th and early 13th, when glass of Chartres and Canterbury was made, most of these cathedrals had a Good Samaritan window.
The Good Samaritan window is the paradigmatic window of the classic age of stained glass--why?
On the one hand, the message of the parable is clear and straightforward. The one who is neighbour to the injured man is an outsider. The Jews looked at the Samaritans with hostility and distrust, and with some good reason. The parable teaches us to see in the outsider our neighbour, one stamped also with the image of God. We are warned about the forms of prejudice or hostility that lead us to deny the common humanity which we share with those different from us. This is of course true, but when the parable was preached on in the ancient Church, most commentators did not begin here. In the Gospels, Jesus is sometimes called a Samaritan, a term of abuse. When we ask who is neighbour to the man in need, the answer the early commentators on this passage gave first was Jesus. They saw in the parable a description the human need, and a description of the fulfilment of the promise in Christ.
A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho.
This is not just any journey. This is a journey from the city of promise, to the city of the curse. Jericho was a cursed place in the OT. It was a favourite retreat of Herod the Tetrach, who killed John the Baptist, and Jericho was near the traditional site of the Temptation of our Lord. The route from Jerusalem to Jericho was notorious as being infested by thieves, a dangerous route. Why would anyone want to leave Jerusalem, the place of the temple, the city of promise, to the city of the curse? If that sounds like a strange question, why would any one of us not chose things which belong to our peace? Well, it’s not so easy is it? We get confused, envy seems like justice, lust seems like love, idolatry seems like enlightened free choice, and even hatred can even dress itself up as hurt feelings.
We can find ourselves on the way to Jericho almost before we realize it. We may feel trapped, chained. The very things we hate about ourselves come out, again, the very things we confessed and desperately wanted to get rid of, again we find ourselves on the road to Jericho. Sometimes, we don’t think that we’ll go all the way to Jericho, but we can’t stay cooped up in a city of peace, joy, and faith all the time, can we? That wouldn’t be human, or it doesn’t seem that way anyway. This journey describes humankind which fell away from God, and each one of us choosing the wrong thing, finding ourselves, somehow, on the road to Jericho again. This certain man is Adam, every man, and us. When we make that journey, we always fall among thieves. Sometimes we convince ourselves that it won’t work out that way. But, when we give ourselves to hatred, or divisive anger, or contempt, we always loose something of ourselves: the thieves stripped [the man] of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead. This is a picture of the life-sapping character of sin, of all choices against the love and wisdom of God.
Next we come to the part of the story where we are most tempted to self-righteousness.
And by chance there came down a certain priest that way; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. And likewise a Levite,
On a human level, of course the priest and levite, the religious experts, should stop. We may feel convicted here, and see how we have done the same thing. Ironically, this is a problem more of those who are really trying to live well. The trouble is that our efforts to do the right thing can lead to a certain contempt for those who are in trouble.
But there is also a deeper truth here. The priest and Levite aren't heartless, they’re just not capable of helping the man. They are the law and the prophets. They can see the man in the ditch, they can see that he has fallen among thieves, they can see that he needs help, but they are not the Saviour. This old interpretation explains what might seem like an odd choice for the Epistle. The Epistle describes the relation of promise and law, what the law can give, and what the Christ will do. St Paul says that the law was a kind of schoolmaster to bring us to Christ. At the same time, it’s not enough to be given a law, or a code of practice. The law needs to enlivened by the Spirit, by the goodness which the prophets embraced and preached: for if there had been a law given which could have given life, verily righteousness should have been by the Law.
The priest and the Levites are the Law which reveals why it is a bad idea to go to Jericho, but a law which cannot heal the deep wounds which we get on the way there, they cannot give life to the dead or the half-dead.
But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was; and when he saw him, he had compassion on him
The Good Samaritan is the one who is the perfect neighbour to the man in need, or, to speak more generally, the perfect neighbour to humankind in need. According to the early interpreters of the Bible, Augustine, Origen, Ambrose, for example, this Samaritan is Jesus Christ. The Good Samaritan is the one who, for us men and for our salvation, came down from heaven, and took the road of this present life. He is the seed of Abraham in whom the law and the promise is fulfilled. In the words of Pusey’s mentor and confessor, John Keble, out of love for us, "He made Himself a Samaritan, one who was despised and an outcast of the people."[2] Christ took the road from Jerusalem to Jericho to be our fellow-traveller, and he falls among thieves for us. In the great Good Samaritan window in Chartres, the certain man gives his back to the smiters, he opens not his mouth, the thieves are like the vicious soldiers in a passion painting, all the while the cross-shaped tree waits for the noble weight of the limbs of the Son of God.
The Good Samaritan, Jesus Christ does not pass by. He falls among thieves for us, but the viciousness of this un-love has no power over him. He rises from the dead to come to look for us, wounded, and half-dead (note well – only half dead). He pours in wine: this is my blood of the new covenant which is shed for you and for many for the remission of sins. The good Samaritan does not pass by, he finds each one of us, "binds up our wounds, pouring in oil and wine, healing our past sins and giving us grace".[3]
What happens next?
The Samaritan puts the man ‘on his beast’.
In the tradition, this beast is the human nature which the Son of God takes on. Human nature had become beast-like, but the Word becomes flesh, and then carries us with this flesh.
Another interpretation is that this beast is, you know this of course, this beast is the clergy.[4] By the grace of God, our Lord can use the most stubborn animal to serve his purposes of love, even the clergy.
The fathers heard the inn as a description of the Church. In the two denarii they saw the treasure of the Gospel, the Old and New Testaments, the two great sacraments, baptism, and HC. Our Lord departs, but it is his treasure, his Word, the sacraments of His life, which sustain us.
This is, of course, a very brief tour of a very rich parable, rich with the treasure of the Gospel.
Which now is neighbour to him that fell among thieves? First, it is Christ. We are blessed to see the love of God which searches out the man in the parable, but which searches out each one of us on the way from Jerusalem to Jericho. It is his love in us which sends us out to love and to serve.
Who is the Good Samaritan? This is tricky.
In a phrase worthy of Stalin, Roger Hallam, one of the founders of Extinction Rebellion, was heard telling his followers that 'the people that run society, run big business, run governments, run the elites' are fully responsible for the 'climate catastrophe'. The solution? MPs and business owners who do not support his understanding of caring for the environment 'should have bullet put through their heads'. Hallam presents his work as saving humanity. That sounds like work of Good Samaritan. But his words reveal something more dangerous and dark, a hatred of at least some of the people he wants to save.
Some of the conversations about race in recent months show the other problems. Martin Luther King and so many of the great champions of racial equality saw this promise as an expression of the Gospel, of the equal but different dignity bestowed on every person made in the image of God, created to love and to enjoy God’s goodness. On the one hand, we are invited to renew this search for the dignity which God intends. On the other hand, some use language which suggests that some have more dignity than others, language which encourages resentment and division, which condemns the past but shows a great blindness with regard to the present.
We are living through strange political times, and we need the probing questions of the lawyer in the parable, who is my neighbour, and above all the grace and wisdom of GS JC, a love which conquers hatred and death, and which turns the bad in our mixed motives, to the good wine of his grace. Whatever enables us to see one another, to really see, through eyes of GS JC, this comes first. Then, raised up and enabled to see, with ears unblocked and tongue loosed by the grace of God, then we can, with the lawyer in the parable, Go and do likewise.
Let us come to have our wounds bound up, to have grace poured in, to have our eyes open, and to see and love one another in the inn to which the Saviour takes us.
[1] Sometimes, if we get exactly what we pray for, it would be like our heavenly father giving us a stone when we need bread. That change is part of how the lawyer’s mixed motives are turned to good, for him and for us. Ask for something, we get something different, important not to go on as if there is no mercy of God, no goodness of God in the different answer, or, from the reading this past week, maybe the struggle is where we find God’s strength in our weakness. Both too simplistic, perhaps. Finding God’s mercy and God’s wisdom in the answer we didn’t want to get is important, key to learning to grow up in our life of prayer.
[2] Keble Sermons, Trinity XIII-end, p. 22.
[3] Keble.
[4] Thanks to Fr Jonathan Beswick for this.
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