“Good Guys, Bad Guys, and Neighbors”

Luke 10:25-37

July 10, 2022

“When he saw the man’s condition, his heart went out to him.” 

(Luke 10:33b, The Message)

This is such a familiar story, isn’t it? Everyone knows the story of the Good Samaritan–how this man from Samaria, in the midst of a trip he was taking, came upon someone who had been robbed, stripped, beaten, and left for dead on the side of the road, and how he–the Samaritan–stopped and took care of him. 

This story is so well-known, in fact, that there are even laws named after it! “Good Samaritan laws” have been put in place around the world to, according to Wikipedia, “offer legal protection to people who give reasonable assistance to those who are…injured, ill, in peril, or otherwise incapacitated.” 

It’s such a familiar story. It’s so familiar that we hear it and think, “Oh yeah, the Good Samaritan. I know this one…. Let’s see–what do I need to do after I get home from church this afternoon?…” 

This story is so familiar that we don’t hear it with the shock value that Jesus’s first listeners would have heard it with. And there are so many stories in the Gospels like that! 

So many stories that, when Jesus first told them or when they first happened, they were totally shocking! Nearly unbelievable! Sometimes horrifying to consider! 

There are so many things in the Gospels that at the time turned the world as those first-century folks knew it, completely upside-down! Stories and experiences that were so incredible, so nearly incomprehensible, so previously unimaginable, that the people who heard them and/or experienced them couldn’t stop talking about them. Couldn’t stop thinking about them. 

And so they kept talking about them. And they kept wondering about them. They kept trying to understand the experiences and they kept telling the stories. For years. Until they finally someone wrote them down. The stories Jesus had told them and the things they had experienced with him were life-changing for them. 

And we hear them now, and they’re so familiar. We hear them, and we think, “Oh yeah, the Good Samaritan. I know this one…. Let’s see–what am I going to do this afternoon after I get home from church?…” 

SO, this morning we’re going to do a couple of things that I hope will help make this story fresh. That I hope will help us experience it with new ears, and wide-open eyes, and receptive hearts…because there is some good stuff here. Some shocking stuff. Some powerful stuff. Some potentially life-changing stuff. If we have the ears to hear it, the eyes to see it, the hearts to receive it…..

First, we’re going to turn the story into a mini melodrama. !! With cheering for the good guys and booing for the bad guy. This might stretch us a little–we don’t very often cheer and boo and otherwise carry on in church! 🙂 But I believe in you! 🙂 

And just so we’re all on the same page about who the good guys and the bad guys are—at least if you were hearing this story as a first-century Jew who would you expect the good guys to be? [the priest and the Levite] And who would you naturally understand to be the bad guy? [the Samaritan!] 

So now that that’s clear, I’m going to read the story again, and when I mention the priest, I want you to cheer! Cheer for the good guy! And the same for the Levite. And when I get to the Samaritan, what are you gonna do? RIght, boo!! 🙂 He’s the bad guy! He’s the enemy! He’s the one we love to hate! 

Ready? Here we go…

“A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and took off, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a priest… [CHEERS!!] …was going down that road and when he saw him…he passed by on the other side. Wait what?! So likewise a Levite… [CHEERS!!] …when he came to the place and saw him–wait for it…–passed by on the other side. What??! But a Samaritan … [BOO’S!!] …while traveling came upon him, and when he saw him……he was moved with compassion. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, treating them with oil and wine. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day he 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.’ 

Hmm. Maybe that helped a little. ?? Maybe that helped us see it a little differently, helped us hear it a little more like people would have heard when Jesus first told it. 

But not enough. I don’t think any of us–or at least not many of us–would leave here still thinking about, still wondering about it, still talking about it–even this afternoon, let alone for years!–if we left it at that.  

So I’m going to do something else that I think might make it even more real for us. I’m going to take a few liberties with the story–actually, I’m going to invite each of us to take a few liberties with the story, and see how we might tell it again, for a 21st-century audience. For ourselves.

Here we go…

Jesus begins: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho…

We’re going to change that. We’re turning this into a first-person story. I’m going to change the injured man to me. I invite you to change him to you. As you hear the story, imagine YOU are the one, robbed and brutally beaten, lying in the ditch on the side of the road… 

And let’s say we were going from Los Alamos to Española. That’s obviously too far to walk, but we’re already taking literary license, so we’re just gonna go with it. 🙂

So here’s my new version (and I invite you to tell your version to yourself as we go along): 

“I was going down from Los Alamos to Española. I was attacked by robbers, who stripped me, beat me, and took off, leaving me half dead.” A little different feel, right? 

Back to Jesus’s story. “Now by chance,” the story goes, “a priest was going down that road…” 

Next change. Who’s a “good guy” in your life? Who’s someone you would expect to stop and help you, no question?… I’m going to use Jennifer Holmes [a WRPC member and friend]. And yes, I asked her if I could use her name in vain! 

So my story says, “Now by chance, Jennifer Holmes was coming down that road…” 

What’s your version? Who’s approaching you, as you lie there, beaten to a pulp, on the side of the road?…

I can imagine lying there, barely conscious, and suddenly seeing Jennifer approaching. I can hardly believe it! I think I must be hallucinating! But no, it’s really her, and she’s coming closer! Does she see me? She sees me! I exhale, painfully, thanking God for the miracle of Jennifer showing up! I know she’ll help me…

Jesus’s story continues: “and when he [the priest] saw him, he passed by on the other side.” So my version becomes, “and when she saw me [Jennifer], she passed by on the other side.” Wait! Jennifer! Where are you going?!… 

What’s your version? Who saw you lying here, bleeding, who you were sure would stop and help you…and then–horrifyingly–kept on going?

Jesus then says, “So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him….” 

So we need another “good guy.” Maybe this time we can imagine someone we don’t know personally but who represents goodness or holiness or helpfulness. I’m going to use, for example, someone from the Presbyterian Mission Agency. I’m gonna say it’s Diane Moffett, the Executive Director. You could use someone from Catholic Relief Services. Or the American Friends Service Committee. Or someone from the Red Cross, or Self-Help, here in Los Alamos. 

Up to you to furnish someone else who would be expected to stop and help…

So my story goes on like this, “So likewise Diane Moffett, head of the Presbyterian Mission Agency, when she came to the place and saw me…passed by on the other side.” 

What? I think as I watch her turn her eyes away and keep going. Just like Jennifer had. Are they not seeing me? No–I know they’re seeing me! Why aren’t they helping me? God, where are you??

Jesus continues. “But a Samaritan, while traveling, came upon him…” 

This is where it gets even more interesting for us. Who will we put in the place of the Samaritan, as the first-century Jews understood him? Who might we consider that sort of “bad guy” in our lives? Someone whom–because of where they’re from, or what they look like, or what they believe–we’re inclined to dislike, we’re inclined to distrust? Someone around whom–because of cultural or familial or religious traditions or teachings–we’re inclined to feel a sense of unease or judgment…? Is there anyone whose appearance or lifestyle or choices–if we’re honest–sometimes generate feelings of fear? Or anger? Even if only momentarily, before we catch ourselves…?

Who is such a person for you, whether someone you know personally or someone who represents a larger group? Whom, for example, would you not want to encounter on a lonely stretch of road, whether you were lying bloody in the ditch or not? 

I can imagine if we polled random people from all over the country, we might hear answers such as Donald Trump or Nancy Pelosi. Or the Far Right, or the Far Left. Or people of color from the inner city. Or white men from the Bible Belt. And remember–these are perceptions of “bad guys”– sometimes even unconscious perceptions–just like the perception of the Jews in Jesus’s time of Samaritans as “bad guys.” 

I can imagine that some people might name transgendered or nonbinary people, gay men or lesbians. Perhaps people of Mexican descent, or people of African descent. Maybe some would name Muslims or Sikhs; maybe some would name Christians! And I suspect there are people around the world who might say obnoxious Americans…

I’ll be honest and admit, though not proudly–there’s more than one person or group I could use here. And I dare say that if any of us are thinking, “Well, I can’t think of anyone,” (which I think I would have said to myself a few years ago) then we are likely not being really honest… 

For this exercise, I’m going to use a guy named Travis Barker, who is a drummer for the rock band Blink-182. If I’m honest, he represents a type of person that can make me feel at least momentarily uncomfortable… 

So who’s your Samaritan? Who’s the “bad guy” in your story?… 

Jesus’s story, as you remember, went like this: “But a Samaritan while traveling came upon him, and when he saw him he was moved with compassion. [WHAT?? THE BAD GUY TURNED OUT TO BE GOOD??] He went to him and bandaged his wounds, treating them with oil and wine. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day he 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.’” Beautiful, right?  

Think about how your version would go. 

My story continues like this: “But Travis Barker, looking like a punk, his body covered with tattoos, his nose pierced–while traveling came upon me, and I was scared, and even in my half-dead state, I braced myself to be kicked just for fun, or at best, ignored… “ [but] when he saw me, he was moved with compassion. And he came to me and bandaged my wounds…. Then he put me in his car [he was driving, not walking!], took me to a hotel, and took care of me. Himself! The next day he took out a few hundred dollars, gave them to the hotel manager, and said, ‘Take care of her, and when I come back I’ll reimburse you for whatever else you spend.’ Beautiful. Beautiful. 

And not only beautiful, but completely unexpected. Right? In my version of the story of the Good Samaritan, it wasn’t Jennifer who stopped to help me. I thought for sure she would. Nor was it Diane Moffett, with all of the resources of the Presbyterian Mission Agency at her disposal. It was a scary-looking white guy–his body covered in tattoos, his shaved head and Causasian skin screaming to me white supremacist–who saw me and was moved with compassion, and who opened his heart to love me. 

That is the love-of-neighbor Jesus is talking about in this story–

Unexpected care. 

Non-obligatory concern. 

Tenderness, independent of tribe. 

Empathy, regardless of external similarities or lack thereof. 

The love-of-neighbor Jesus is talking in this story is undivided attention to the condition of those who are on the side of the road, hurting, beaten up–or maybe in today’s world, beaten down; those who are feeling invisible in their distress… 

And perhaps especially when giving that attention is inconvenient, when offering that tenderness is uncomfortable, when expressing that empathy feels risky. 

This, I believe, is the love-of-neighbor that will bring Life. That will transform lives. 

This is the love-of-neighbor that we are to go and show. 

This is the love-of-neighbor that Jesus calls us to go and do.

So the question I hope to be thinking about when I leave here this afternoon is, who is the neighbor I am called to love? And likewise, who are the neighbors we are called to love? 

I’ll leave your question up to you. 

Amen.