Sermon on Luke 10:25-37

On the occasion of his induction as Representative of the Council of the Evangelical Church in Germany to the Federal Republic of Germany and the European Union
Friedrichstadt Church, Berlin

Our reading was the parable of the Good Samaritan. Most of us know it well, perhaps even from childhood.

The parable of the Good Samaritan is one of the most important and best known in our Bible. Strong traces of it can be found in church and diakonia, in society and culture. Our language too has been touched by it. When we hear the word “Samaritan” we know immediately that it is associated with acts of kindness and compassion.  

Will this well-known story have anything new to say to us this morning? Let’s lend a fresh ear to the old words of the story.

A lawyer asks Jesus, “Who is my neighbour?” We learn that his motive for this is not sincere. He wants to catch Jesus out and look good himself. But Jesus is not interested in the lawyer’s motive. The question “Who is my neighbour?” is so important that it deserves an answer.  Jesus responds, and starts on a story.

“A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers.” With this first sentence, Jesus creates a highly dramatic situation. He makes the lawyer who is listening to him, and us who are as it were spectators of the event, accompany the man who is robbed. Everything that follows is seen from his perspective. All through the story we will be taking part in his fate.

Jesus  makes us adopt the perspective of the victim. It is not a pleasant one, but for Christians it is the only perspective. Why is that so? Because it is God’s perspective. The whole of our scriptures tell of God’s passion for sufferers and God’s weakness for those who are vulnerable.

“The robbers stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead.”

We are right there next to the victim as he is humiliated and has his clothes dragged off him. We can well imagine how he cries out as he is beaten, how he groans and finally can only whimper. How he fears for his life when he is left alone in the desert …

We feel with and for the man as he is assaulted, and we think of the many other victims around the world. We think of the fears of women, men and children fleeing the civil war in Syria. Millions have fled already. We think of the mothers and fathers in parts of Africa, Asia and Latin America, too many of whom cannot give their children what they need to survive, let alone any education or training. We think of people in need in our own country and in this city, people who do not have a fair share of the goods and gifts of our society.           

We think of the torment of girls and boys exposed to violence from the very people they had put their trust in.

“Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side.” This is devastating. Two men who should know better simply pass by.

Priests and Levites know God’s commandments better than most other people. They know that they should love not only God but also love their neighbour as themselves. These are the words in Leviticus.

Both of those who pass by are said to see the victim. We may assume that the victim himself is aware he has been seen. What a moment of hope in his desperate situation! Help is at hand! Everything will be all right! But there is no help, no change for the better. The priest and the Levite pass by. The victim must be in despair.

The rough terrain between Jerusalem and Jericho is not far, across the Mediterranean, from the external borders of the European Union. Within these borders, people are in safety, but they see on television what is happening almost daily at their door. Far too many refugees in far too small boats try to reach safety. Boats capsize and people are drowned. The Europeans see all this, some of them with a close-up view. Last week, fishermen off the island of Lampedusa saw refugees in distress but did not go to their aid because they feared severe punishment. The coastguards saw the tiny boats on their radar screens but did not help either.

Many of those who see sufferers from a distance or close up are Christians, in other words people who – like the priest and the Levite – know or should know the double command to love God and neighbour. How disappointed, shocked and despairing people must be who hope for compassion in Europe with its “Christian values” but are confronted with rejection and indifference.

“But a Samaritan while travelling came near him.” Now the victim probably began to panic. A Samaritan! A stranger! A foreigner! Not of the same faith! Someone your parents always warned you about: “Be on your guard with them. If we don’t steer clear of them, they’ll soon be taking charge and running everything.” And now – as if the victim’s situation wasn’t bad enough – a stranger like this comes by. Will this stranger with his alien religion revel in the victim’s fate? Will he ask him spitefully, “Where is your God now?” Might he even give him the final blow? In fact, everything turns out quite differently.

“When the Samaritan saw him, he was moved with pity. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him.” What balm this was for the body and soul of the badly injured man. How good it must have felt to have the stranger show feelings towards him, strong feelings at that. “He was moved with pity.”

Actually the Greek should be translated: “When the Samaritan saw the assaulted man, his stomach churned in horror.” And we can imagine the injured man suddenly seeing the light: this stranger, the kind my parents warned me against, is a human being!  A human being who has feelings, who has compassion. And not only that: this stranger is a human being who helps. Not like an amateur, but professionally. He expertly bandages the wounds, organises the ambulance service, manages admission to the clinic and provides the necessary care. We are still nearby, and we feel how it does us good. It reminds us that strangers can enrich our lives. They bring gifts and abilities and often a professional qualification. We will not forget this when Jesus sends us back into our everyday lives. But first the story goes on …

The victim is out of immediate danger; he is now safe. At the inn he cannot be attacked again by marauding gangs. His wounds will not become infected but will heal. At this point, something wonderful happens. “The next day he [the Samaritan] took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.’” The victim, still vulnerable, is to stay in this safe place until he can stand on his own feet again. That will be expensive: two silver denarii were quite a lot of money. But evidently it was natural to the Samaritan to spend this money, and more if necessary. How good this must feel for the patient, who thinks: “Here is someone not just looking at the rules and the budget but looking at me. Someone who is full of concern not for himself but for me.” We too feel how this does us good. And we sense that for refugees it must be very comforting when helpers in Germany see their distress and support them.

This is where the parable of the Good Samaritan comes to an end. But Jesus puts a test question to the lawyer and thus also to us. He wants to be sure that his answer to the important question about the neighbour has been understood. So he probes: “Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbour to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?” Jesus is still not releasing us from the perspective of the victim. It is only from his perspective that the decision can be made about what neighbourly love is and is not. The lawyer answers as the parable suggests: “The one who showed him mercy.”

Only right at the end does Jesus allow the lawyer and us to change perspective.

Jesus says to him: “Go and do likewise.” That is, go and act as the Good Samaritan did. Do it as someone who has learned to see with the eyes of a victim. Be moved with pity at people’s plight and help them.

We do not hear whether the lawyer did what Jesus called on him to do, but that is not so important. What matters is that we answer the call – through the government and society, the church and its diaconal ministries, and in our individual lives. We have opportunities to do so every day.

And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, keep our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.

Amen.