Mission
Sunday – The 13th Sunday after Trinity, August 25th, A + D 2013
St
John Lutheran Church, Fairview, Montana
To
the Man – Incarnational Mercy Luke
10:23-37 , 2nd Chronicles 28:8-15
The Samaritan went to the man. He had compassion for his plight. Literally speaking, he had ‘his guts turned
out.” Esplangxnisthe, you can almost
hear the visceral reaction, the gut reaction, that is built into the Greek
word. Esplangxnisthe. Having compassion in his gut upon seeing the
beaten, naked, half-dead traveler, fallen on the side of the road, the
Samaritan goes to the man, right up close to him, taking on this poor man’s
problems, as his own. To the man.
That’s what it takes for real mercy, it
takes going to the man, to the woman, to the child. Whatever person is suffering and in need, to
deliver real mercy requires going to the man, getting up close with a person in
want and suffering.
If Cindi and the gang at ROI, o.k.,
they’re probably too short staffed to call them a gang, but anyway, it would do
no good for Cindi and the other staff at ROI to stand around at a meeting or in
a church basement, talking about how there are people with disabilities who
could really use some help. Helen could
write letters to the editor every day about how bad domestic violence is. Shelee could cover the countryside with
pro-life posters. Tim could stand
outside every bar in town with a megaphone, warning people about the dangers of
drug and alcohol abuse. None of these
deeds would be merciful.
They might be useful, like the prophet
Oded’s warning to Israel, which kept them from making slaves out of family,
kept them from abusing like cattle their captured cousins from Judah. There is
sadly a very necessary place for prophets like Oded in our world. We can and should proclaim the evils of
ignoring people with special needs, the evil of violence in the home, the
tragedy of taking the lives of babies, a tragedy for the child, for mother and
father, and for our nation. We can
detail the destruction of substance abuse.
We can warn and plead with people to flee from these evils, and some
people might do less evil. But that is
not showing compassion. That is not
giving mercy.
To be truly compassionate and merciful
requires going to the man, to the flesh and blood human being. To the woman who
fears the man she loves. To the drug
addict. To the person with
disabilities. To the single mother of
two, who is pregnant again. True mercy
is always in the flesh, flesh to flesh, face to face, messy, risky. True mercy is incarnational, that is, it
entails one flesh and blood person going to another flesh and blood person and
getting down in the trenches to try to help them.
And
you and I don’t really want to do that, do we?
We, like the lawyer in our passage from Luke, would like to qualify a
few definitions, in order to limit the need for us to press the flesh with
needy neighbors. Who, after all, is
really my neighbor? Do I have to help
the single mom next door? After all,
she’s on food stamps, so I’m already helping her through my taxes, right? Do I really need to go and help my elderly
father cut up his food and clean up his messes?
Isn’t that what we have nursing homes for? Is it really my concern if women all around
me are getting pregnant, and then are pressured into abortions by boyfriends,
husbands, parents or poverty? Are these
fallen people really my neighbors?
Yes.
According to Jesus, yes, your neighbor is every person in need you
meet. Consider that the Samaritan has no
tie to the wounded man. Jericho and
Jerusalem are Jewish towns, and so the Samaritan was passing through a land
where he was a decidedly 2nd class citizen, maybe even 3rd
or 4th class. Why, since Jews
have no dealings with Samaritans, should this Samaritan have compassion on the
fallen man, who is in all likelihood a Jew?
Surely the Jewish priest and Levite, who perhaps were still visible,
riding away in the distance, as the Samaritan came upon the fallen man, surely
they had a greater responsibility than the Samaritan, right? Why should he go to the man, right up to him,
cleansing his flesh and bandaging his wounds, sharing his donkey, and paying
for his care?
Why?
Because God has put him there for just that purpose. God gave the Samaritan the privilege of
feeling compassion in his gut, of getting up close and personal, of delivering
incarnational, in the flesh mercy. God
invited the Samaritan into executing the will of God by loving this neighbor as
himself. There is no higher earthly
privilege.
Are you feeling guilty yet? I am.
I can admire the idea of loving my neighbor. I can praise those who go above and beyond,
diving into the really messy situations. I can allow myself to be caught in situations
in which avoiding doing something is impossible. I can even grin and bear the unpleasantries
of loving my neighbor, especially if my reputation is on the line. I mean, I don’t want people to think I’m the
pastor with no compassion. But my whole
heart isn’t in it. I don’t very often
consider it a privilege. I do not
rejoice to deliver incarnational mercy, even when it dawns on me that the thing
I’m caught up in is from God. I do not
measure up to the Good Samaritan, not in my actions, certainly not in my
heart.
No one does. If we could, then
the Lawyer’s desire to justify himself could be fulfilled. According to Jesus, there is, at least in theory,
a way to be saved by the Law: “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.”
Do this, and you will live, says Jesus.” And so, we are dying. According to the Law, we have no hope,
because our love for God is weak, and dirtied by resentment and anger at His
rules. And our love for the neighbor is
very situational. I love my neighbors
who take care of their yards and have me over for parties and don’t ask
anything difficult of me. But needy
people? Not so much joy in having them
for neighbors.
Even those who do many visible good works
cannot but fail to live up to the standard the Lawyer quotes from Moses, the
standard which Jesus endorses. Scripture
declares this truth, by works of the law shall no man be saved. Honest consciences confirm it. You cannot justify yourself. You cannot do what it takes to inherit
eternal life. You are not the Good
Samaritan, and you never will be.
But there is a Good Samaritan. His name is Jesus. Almighty God, rejected by the men and women
He created, has chosen to come and find us anyway. Spiritually dead from sin-disease, even from
our birth, and dying physically as well, from the very beginning of our lives,
our future at the hands of that robber satan was grim indeed. But Jesus has come to us, all the way to
us. We do not, indeed, in our sinfulness
we cannot muster a love for our neighbors to match our selfish self-love. But Jesus has loved us perfectly, even though
we were His enemies. Jesus came all the
way to us, not merely coming along side His fallen creatures, but even entering
into our flesh, facing our temptations, struggling through our broken
world.
Indeed, the heavenly Good Samaritan has
come even farther than the Samaritan in our reading today. For while that Samaritan only came to the
fallen man and cared for his wounds, Jesus has shared in our wounds. Jesus was beaten, and even stripped naked, by
the Roman soldiers, just before He was nailed to the tree. Yes, the all-powerful Son of God has
submitted His flesh to the worst beating humanity could dish out. Even more, Jesus has accepted from His Father
the punishment that all of us deserve for all the cruel blows we’ve inflicted
on each other. Jesus became sin,
suffering in our place, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of
God. Indeed, our Good Samaritan is still
working His righteousness in us, for He is risen from the dead and is still
seeking fallen people. Jesus comes and
pours Himself out, baptizing sinners into His crucifixion, that they might
share His resurrection, declaring His absolution each and every time a
repenting sinner confesses her sins.
Jesus even pours Himself out for us in a physical mystery, by His blood,
poured into the Chalice, to give forgiveness and new life to all who eat and
drink His Supper in faith.
And so, in the midst of our world, still
soaked through with sin and sorrow and suffering, a new hope, a new love, a new
light shines, as the God who has gathered sinners into His Inn, into His
Church, and has cared for them personally, bringing them back to life and
health, now sends them out, to deliver incarnational mercy to other hurting
people. It’s no accident that these four
leaders of these four organizations are doing what they are doing. It’s no accident that so many other members
of our congregations are involved in these and other efforts to serve the
hurting people who are among us and all around us. It’s no accident that wherever you find real,
in the flesh human care, you find Christians involved. For as God feeds Tim, and Helen, and Cindi
and Shelee, and the rest of you at this altar, He is preparing you for the
service He intends. As God reminds you
how precious you are to Him, despite the sins that you still have to come and
confess, week after week, He is preparing your hearts, preparing your guts, to
feel compassion for your neighbors, for whom Christ also died, and rose.
We rightly rejoice in the care provided by
these organizations, but all the credit goes to God. For there is no truly good work among human
beings, except those God leads His faithful into. For it is Christ alone who is purely good,
and only by our communion with Him can any of us sinners do anything worthy of
God’s Kingdom.
Today we support and celebrate the work of
Richland Opportunities Incorporated, District Two Drug and Alcohol Program,
Sunrise Women’s Clinic, and the Richland County Coalition Against Domestic
Violence, four local organizations that are going to the man, to the woman, to
the child in need in our community, meeting hurting people in the flesh, in
order to serve them as best they can.
None of these organizations are Churches. But that does not mean God is not there,
working His mercy, for God has put His children in these organizations. Where there are Christians, there is Christ,
moving them to serve compassionately, and even creating opportunities for them
to tell others the reason for the hope we have.
And these are by no means the only places
where God is delivering incarnational mercy through His people. Every Christian mother or father, changing a
messy diaper, loving and disciplining their child through 18 years and beyond,
is God’s instrument of incarnational, in the flesh mercy. Every Christian who runs a business and works
hard to make sure she can keep her people employed for the long run is God’s
instrument for service to the neighbor.
Even when you and I are not whole-heartedly thrilled to be helping out a
person in need, God overcomes what is weak in us, as He works out His perfect
plans.
And so we rejoice to see God at work,
through the lives of His people. We
rejoice even more at the Good News that our good works don’t save us, our good
works aren’t part of what it takes for us to inherit eternal life, so we can do
them freely, without fear of failure.
And most of all we rejoice at the love and service and incarnational
mercy of God, found in the crucified, resurrected and ever-present Son of God,
Jesus Christ, our true Good Samaritan, who has come to the fallen man, all the
way to us, to save us and give us life, eternal life, in Jesus’ Name,
Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment