First Lutheran Church

July 10, 2022

Luke 10:25-37 Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” He said to him, “What is written in the law? What do you read there?” He answered, “You shall 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.” And he said to him, “You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.
But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. 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. But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he 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. 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.’ Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

 

Sermon

“Which One Are You”

Rev. Greg Ronning

Back in the day when I had the opportunity to teach or preach on “The Good Samaritan” I would always begin by singing “Which One Are You?” by Paul Clark. It goes something like this …

A certain man from Jerusalem went down to Jericho.
And he fell upon some thieves who beat him and stripped him of his clothes.
They left him lying there half dead on one side of the road.
And he probably was crying out for help; maybe someone was close.

The priest passed by and saw him and walked way on the other side.
Likewise, the Levite did the same, as the man cried.
A Samaritan on his journey came along and found him there.
And he bound his wounds with oil and wine and took him to the inn for care.
The next day, before he departed, he took out two denarii

and gave them to the inn keeper and asked him to take care of him.
Whatever more you spend, when I come back, I'll repay thee.
So I ask you now, my friend, which was the best man of these three?
The reason I sing this song is to make the point on which I stand.
If you say that you're a Christian, would you've stop and help that man?
You see there's a lot of religious talk and theory that you can do.
But just look inside and ask yourself, which of these three are you?

You see there's a lot of religious talk and theory that you can do.
But just look inside and ask yourself, which of these three … are you?

So, which one are you?  That’s the traditional question that we ask when we come upon this text.  Are you the Priest or the Levite?  Or are you the Good Samaritan?  Traditionally we have relegated this parable to a moral story, a story that teaches us how to behave in the world.  The moral of the story is supposed to teach you how to be a better person.  In this case, from this perspective, Jesus is teaching us what it means to be a good neighbor, how to love our neighbor, how to be a good person, how to practice our faith.

And there’s nothing wrong with this approach, however I believe there’s more to the story, I believe that it’s more than just a moral story, more than just a “go and do likewise” story; I believe it just might be a story that has the power to radically transform us!

So how do we get there, how do get past “the moral of the story,” how do enter the story more deeply?  We do so by going back to the traditional question, “Which of these three are you? ”Perhaps you’ve already noticed the flaw in that question, the thing that limits the potential of the parable, the thing that keeps the story from being transformational.  What’s wrong with that question?  (pause) There’s more than three characters in the story, there’s more than three people with which to identify, there’s more than three ways to enter into the story!  There’s a Priest, a Levite, a Samaritan, an Inn Keeper, and the man who “fell into the hands of robbers.”

This morning we will take a closer look at all “five” of the characters found in “The Parable of the Good Samaritan,” seeking to better understand what it means to love our neighbor, and also looking for that thing that might grab hold of us, and if we dare engage and embrace it, transform us. Remember that the parables of Jesus are more than just moral stories, they’re stories that are intended to turn our world upside down for the sake of the kingdom.

Let’s begin with the Priest and the Levite.  We’re pretty familiar with these characters.  They are the religious leaders of the day.  They are on the road between Jerusalem and Jericho most likely on religious business, heading to or from The Temple.  And while their behavior, “passing by on the other side,” is unacceptable, they do have an excuse.  These two are simply observing the Jewish Law, if they were to encounter a dead person, an unclean person, they would be unable to perform their duties as a faith leader.  People waiting for them at the temple or back home at the synagogue were counting on them to be present to perform sacred duties.  They could not risk the possibility of becoming “unclean,” ending up in quarantine, if they stopped and helped the man lying alongside the road.

And we’ve been there, too busy to stop and help someone in need.  We have lots of excuses, some of them are better than others, but we have reasons for “passing by on the other side of the road. ”We can’t just skip over these characters; these characters invite us into the life-giving act confession and repentance.  They expose us to our guilt, and sometimes our guilt goads us into being better people, but guilt does not transform us into a people empowered by faith.

And then there’s the Samaritan.  He’s the surprise hero in the story.  He goes out of his way to help the man lying half dead on the side of the road.  He’s a surprise because he’s a Samaritan.  The Jews of Jesus’ time considered the Samaritans to be their mortal enemies.  We are reminded that they had been enemies for generations.  The people who first heard Jesus’ parable must have been shocked.  This is the first hint that this story has some real power in it, the notion that the one in the story who truly loves his neighbor might be one of those Samaritans.

And so, we try to be a “Good Samaritan.”  For the most part, the cultural identity and original context of the story, is not really that important to us.   What strikes us as important is his actions.  We are attracted to the Good Samaritan because he’s a good person, a good neighbor.  And we like to be recognized for being a good person, we like to be justified by our actions, we want to be a part of “The Good Sam Club.” And all that’s not so bad, but it’s not really transformational.  It’s the same old story, pride and sin, deep down we’d rather “be saved” by our own good works, than rely on grace.

Probably the most overlooked character in the story is the Innkeeper.  But he’s actually pretty important, after all he is the one who spends the most time caring for the man who was beaten.  He is getting paid to do it, but he is willing to do it.

In some ways, for us, the Innkeeper might be the most familiar person in the story.  It reminds me of our Caring Hands ministry.  People donate food, resources, and money to us; and we care for our neighbors in need.  And for those of us on staff here at First Lutheran we are reminded that we get paid to be “Professional Christians.”  It’s our job to lead you, to serve you, to serve with you, to serve our neighbors.  As you probably know, it’s also more than a job for us, it is our passion, but in some ways we are a lot like the “Innkeeper” in today’s parable.

And that leaves us with the last character in the story; the man who is robbed, beaten, and left dying alongside the road.  And as you may have guessed, the person who makes the story transformational.  At first glance it’s kind of hard to enter into the story through this character, thankfully most of us have never been in his dire situation.  By the way, those who have, already know the incredible power of this story.

However, the more I think about this parable I am convinced that this is the person Jesus is inviting us “to be” in the story.  The original audience that heard Jesus tell this story were most likely the average Jewish people of the time.  When Jesus talked about a Priest and a Levite, they knew who those people were, and they knew they were not those people.  And they certainly did not identify with their hated enemies, the Samaritans.  And while there may have been an Innkeeper in the crowd, they were certainly not a whole crowd of Innkeepers.  If you think about it, all the characters in the story are pretty well developed, and “beyond” the listeners.  The only character left for them to identify with - is the man. Someone only described as a man, someone they all could be, thus the someone by which they might enter into the story.  And in this man, rescued by one of those “awful Samaritans,” there is “only” radical transformation.

Imagine what it would be like to be “saved” by your mortal enemy.  Imagine how that might challenge your assumptions and your values.  Imagine how that might drastically challenge and change your world view.  I imagine that it would be like a great earthquake, shaking the very ground upon which you stand. When love comes to us from such an unexpected place, when God comes to us in such a scandalous way, when the kingdom of God is revealed on the other side of our expectations; we can’t help but be transformed.  Suddenly we are challenged to see in the eyes of the other, the stranger, and even the enemy;- the eyes of Christ.  And that changes everything, in every way possible.

So, what might that look like today? Debie Thomas writes, “Think about it this way: Who is the last person on earth you'd ever want to deem "the good guy?"  The last person you'd ever want to ask for a favor — much less owe your life?  Whom do you secretly hope to convert, fix, impress, control, or save — but never, ever need?”

A Ukrainian is robbed, and a Russian saves his life.  A White Supremist is robbed, and an African American saves her life.  A Ram’s fan is robbed, and a 49er fan saves their life. A Democrat is robbed, and a Republican saves his life.  A Republican is robbed, and a Democrat saves her life.

In today’s parable, in the story of “The Good Samaritan” Jesus is inviting us to move beyond our divisions, beyond our history, beyond our prejudices, beyond our political, racial, cultural and economic identities; beyond tribalism - and into a different kind of reality, into the Kingdom of God!  Jesus challenges us to find the divine in the different and totally unexpected places, in places that will lead to transformation, places where all things are being made new.

Today’s parable is more than a moral story, it is a call to be transformed by Christ - in, with and through - the love of neighbor.  It is also a powerful story of grace, a story that opens us up to the presence of God’s grace in places where we would never presume to find it, and perhaps in the very place where we desperately need to experience it. In our troubled world; in a man who was robbed, beaten, and left for dead; in the places where our life and his life intersect, in the places where our life and his life might intersect in the future; somewhere down the long and difficult road that we all must travel; - we all need as much love and grace as we can get.

Here the good and unforeseen news!  The grace of God, the love of Christ, and the communion of the Holy Spirit are all around us.  The Kingdom of God is near. May we find ourselves in the vulnerable and difficult parts of the story; may we be humbled and inspired, empowered and strengthened, and set free from all that keeps us estranged and afar; in order that we might experience the transformational power of God’s grace and love and be such grace and love for others.  Amen.

Sermon on Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

You came on a great Sunday! We’re going to do a new missions program: a real, biblically-based model. We didn’t announce it in advance, because we didn’t want you to bring any extra clothes. And I hope none of you brought your wallets or purses today.

We’re going to put everyone’s name in a hat, pull out names in pairs, and send you on your way to spread the good news.

One pair will go over to Brea, one to Anaheim, one to La Habra, one to Buena Park…you get the idea.

When you get there, you’re going to knock on a door and see if someone will take you in. If they do, you’re going to stay with them for as long as they’ll have you. See you in a few weeks!

That all sounds good, right? Right?

Huh. You all don’t seem very keen on this idea.

That’s probably because what Jesus asks of his disciples is really vulnerable.

He’s taking away their safety nets, their sense of what to expect, even his very presence to lean on.

He’s removing everything they’re used to relying on: money, belongings, familiarity with the town they’re in, the knowledge and presence of their rabbi.

That’s probably why Jesus sent out only the twelve the first time, in the previous chapter—only his first and most committed students. We don’t hear how it went, but presumably that pilot program worked, since Jesus is sending out seventy people this time (or seventy-two, depending on the translation).

This time, we do hear how it went: the returning disciples are overjoyed! They were able to do things they never imagined.

And Jesus is happy for them but reminds them that their true reward is that their “names are written in heaven.”

That sounds like they got a one-way ticket to a place with clouds and harps and halos after they die, but whenever Jesus talks about “heaven” or the “kingdom of God,” he’s not just talking about a far-removed place in the sky for dead people. He’s talking about being part of God’s mission in the world now.

The Reign of God that is both now and not yet is indeed now, at least in part. Jesus sent out his disciples to live vulnerably in the Reign of God wherever they went
Jesus sends them in pairs, because the Reign of God is something we do together.

Jesus sends them out without money and without belongings so that they will depend on others’ hospitality and build connections.

Jesus tells them to stay with only one household per town so that they will deepen that connection and develop relationships and community.

Hospitality and relationships create the kinship of the Reign of God. Some people even drop the “g” in “Kingdom of God” and call it the “Kin-dom of God,” emphasizing the deep family relationships that God invites us into.

That is exactly what Jesus is creating here. You can’t stay in someone’s home for a long period of time without getting to know them. You can’t offer genuine hospitality without forming bonds with people. You can’t heal people without caring about them.

By sending his disciples out in this vulnerable way, Jesus is creating microcosms of the Kin-dom of God. 

When I was in high school, I went on a couple mission trips to Mexico. It wasn’t anywhere near as vulnerable a situation as Jesus sends his disciples into, but it was different from anything I had ever experienced.

We spent a long weekend building a home or two: one room on a foundation with one window and one door. And we put on a Vacation Bible School program for the kids in the area.

As I have grown in my understanding of the world and the history of missions throughout the centuries, my feelings about my participation in those mission trips have become complicated.

Our intentions were good: we wanted to help our neighbors who had fewer resources than we did, and we wanted to tell people that Jesus loves them.

But looking back, there’s a lot I don’t know. I don’t know what organization we were working with. I don’t know where our materials came from—were they bought near where we were building so that it would stimulate the local economy? Were we taking work away from local people (who honestly probably would have done the work a lot better than a high schooler who had little experience with hammers)? Were the kids in our VBS missing school so they could hang out with us?

This only scratches the surface of the potential ethical issues of our trips, and I don’t have answers for how much good versus harm we did on those weekends.

My feelings about those trips are complicated, but I do know how I was impacted by the experience.

I saw poverty that I had never seen before in real life. I saw families living in shacks made of old garage doors and tarps. I saw pits of burning garbage. I knew those things existed, and I knew this was far from the worst poverty in the world, but it was different seeing it in front of me.(And lest we congratulate ourselves for living in a nation with a better quality of living, I have since seen worse poverty on Skid Row in LA, much closer to home.)

And on one of those weekends,we were given hospitality like I had never before experienced.

One of the families we built a house for insisted on feeding us. It was hard to bear the knowledge of what this meal was probably costing them, but you can’t insult people by not accepting their hospitality.

So, we ate.

It was my first taste of mole—an amazing deep brown sauce with warm spices and incredible depth because it includes a bit of chocolate. It’s not sweet at all—just rich and flavorful. Served over chicken and rice, mole is so good!

The family that served us was so gracious. I am still humbled by their generosity and kindness. As we ate and laughed and tried to communicate with our less-than-satisfactory high school Spanish, any “us versus them” melted away. Their hospitality created kinship and, like Jesus’ 70 disciples, we experienced a microcosm of the Kin-dom of God.

Jesus tells his disciples not to rejoice that they could cast out demons, but that they are a part of the Reign of God.

Jesus invites us not to do things that we can be proud of but to be a part of the family of God that transcends culture, border, nationality, and language.

This week, look at your neighbors (which is everyone around you) and don’t wonder what you can do for them, but see if there is a way to connect and find that kinship that Jesus invites us into.

When you do, the Kin-dom of God has truly come near.

Sermon on Luke 8:26-39

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

“Please, Jesus, just leave. You’ve done enough damage here. Just go.”

Not exactly the response we expect Jesus to get.

And that’s not the only weird and surprising thing in this story.

To begin with, Jesus just decides one day to cross the lake with his disciples. On the other side of the lake is Gentile territory—this is the first time Jesus goes to Gentile territory in the Gospel of Luke. And it’s not easy to get there, because there’s a big storm that starts filling their boat with water. Fortunately, Jesus calms the storm. The disciples are so surprised that they start asking each other, “Who then is this, that he commands even the winds and the water and they obey him?”

Then, they reach the other side of the lake safely.

All is not well, however.

In the land of the Gerasenes, there is a man who lives in the graveyard, who cannot be held by chains, who walks around naked.

This guy walks up to Jesus—not exactly the ideal welcoming committee—and he starts yelling:

“What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I beg you, do not torment me!”

Jesus tries to cast out his demons, and the man only cries out louder.

Then, the demons ask Jesus if they can possess a nearby herd of pigs, and Jesus agrees.

I hope the demons didn’t pay their rent in advance, because their new living situation is short-lived: the pigs immediately run down the hill and into the lake.

The demons aren’t the only ones upset by this: the folks who were caring for the pigs go and tell everyone around what had happened. A whole crowd comes and sees the formerly demon-possessed man at Jesus’ feet—the posture of a disciple, a student—and they freak out and ask Jesus to move along.

 

There is more to this story than meets the eye. There is something wrong at the heart of the community. The man with the demons has been cut off from his neighbors. In that time, it was shameful—not for the man to be naked—but shameful to the community that did not give him anything to wear.[1] And he lives in a graveyard. He has no part in the life of the living around him, except when they try to chain him up.

Then, when he’s released from being tormented by the demons, the community prizes their livelihood over the wellbeing of one of their own. They don’t want Jesus around if he’s going to threaten their income, regardless of his healing ability and works of power.

And, what might not be obvious to our 21st century minds is that there is another character in this story: the Roman Empire.

The man with the demons says his name is “Legion,” which the Gospel explains as meaning“ many demons had entered him.” But “legion” didn’t just mean “a lot.” Legion was a specific term for “a unit of approximately six thousand Roman soldiers.”[2] This man’s body is occupied by a legion of demons, just as the land he lives in is occupied by the Roman Empire. Both are kept in check by violence and oppression.

Perhaps what the pig farmers are afraid of is not just losing their livelihood but incurring the wrath of Rome when they cannot feed the occupying armies.

There is something wrong at the heart of this community.

The occupying empire, as well as the occupying legion of demons, is threatening the wellbeing of the community.

Seven years and two days ago, something obliterated the wellbeing of a faith community in Charleston, South Carolina.

On Wednesday, June 17, 2015, a young white man walked into Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church and joined the folks there for Bible study. He sat and listened through the whole Bible study, and then, during a prayer, he pulled out a gun and shot and killed nine of the twelve people there.

The attack was motivated by white supremacy.

And, lest we think that the problem is hundreds of miles away and has little to do with us, the shooter grew up in an ELCA congregation.

White supremacy insults the image of God in every person. It poisons people and allows them to believe that there are people who are not beloved children of God.

White supremacy is a demonic and sinful belief system that should have no place in our nation or in our denomination. But it does.

White supremacy is insidious. It’s not always so easy to identify as a Confederate flag or a Nazi swastika. It also seeps in in the form of a bad joke, a suspicious glance at someone who looks like they “don’t belong,” and any number of other sly ways. It comes in drops that we might not notice on a daily basis, because it’s a system that floods the world we live in. Those drops build up into storms of violence and hatred and disregard for the image of God in Black people and people of color.

When the image of God is forgotten in any person, just as the community in Jesus’ time had forgotten the humanity of the man with the demons, there is something wrong at the heart of that community.

But Jesus doesn’t leave us to our own devices, throwing his hands up in the air, declaring that our communities are too messed up to do anything about.

No, God has authority over death-dealing systems. Just before this, we saw Jesus calm a storm that had professional fishermen quaking in their sandals. His own followers were amazed: “Who then is this, that he commands even the winds and the water and they obey him?”

Even his own disciples don’t have a good understanding yet of how powerful Jesus is.

But the demons occupying the man in our story do. They know exactly who Jesus is and beg him not to torment them. Demons aren’t really supposed to be the begging sort, but they know who they’re dealing with.

And then, the people who had been watching the pigs saw everything, and they told everyone about this powerful stranger. Granted, the reaction wasn’t exactly positive, but everyone there knew Jesus’ power. And they were so frightened that they asked him to leave them alone.

God has power over death-dealing systems like occupying forces and even white supremacy.

The most violent, destructive systems that exist in our world do not have power over God.

But in our story, Jesus does honor the people’s request for him to leave. He does not smite them or rain down fire on their town—he simply goes on his way.

But he doesn’t wipe the dust of their town off his sandals either. He, in fact, leaves someone very important behind to do God’s work.

The man who had been possessed begs to go with Jesus, to become one of his disciples and follow him wherever he goes. But Jesus tells him to stay there instead.

Jesus is not welcome where they are, but this man has roots in this place. And he has a story to tell about Jesus’ power and compassion. There is work to be done right where he is.

There is work to be done right where we are, too,

in dismantling white supremacy wherever we find it,

in instilling anti-racism in our denomination,

in creating the Beloved Community that God envisions.

There is work to be done right here, especially for those of us who are white.

Those of us who are white have learning, listening, advocating, repairing, and empowering to do. Start where you are, learn something new, listen to your Black siblings and siblings of color, do what you can while following their lead.

Now all of you children of God, take heart. Our God is powerful. Our God is a God of liberation.

God liberated the man in our story from the occupying forces inside him.

God equipped him to share the story of Jesus’ liberating power.

Where all is not well, there is work to be done, and Jesus equips us to do it.

Two days ago may have been the anniversary of the shooting of the Emanuel Nine, but today is also Juneteenth, a celebration of long-overdue freedom for the people who were enslaved in Texas at the end of the Civil War. And today is the anniversary of the passing of the Civil Rights Act of 1964—a step in the direction of honoring the image of God in all people.

God created us all to be free, to be cherished, for our communities to be whole.

We are made in the image of God, and there is work to be done here to remind the world of that.

Let’s make sure the world knows what Paul wrote to the Galatians in today’s reading: “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.”[3]

All of us are one in Christ Jesus. Thanks be to God! Amen.

[1]Nerds at Church podcast

[2]Judith Jones, Working Preacher: https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-12-3/commentary-on-luke-826-39-4

[3] Galatians 3:28