Deuteronomy 30-9-14; Colossians 1.1-14; Luke 10.25-37

It’s a very well known story. What else is there to say about the Good Samaritan? Those of us here this morning have probably been familiar with this story for a very long time. And that’s one of the difficulties with it.

When we know something very well, we often feel that there is little more to learn from it. If we’re reading it, we might find ourselves skimming it rather than reading it word for word. If we’re listening to it read, we might find our minds wandering because we know what the outcome of the story is.

We know that the man is going to be attacked on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho.

We know that the holy men, the priest and the Levite, are going to ignore him. We know that the baddie in the story - the Samaritan - is going to turn out good.

But there are some things that we might not notice either because of our familiarity.

The lawyer asks Jesus a question to which he already knows the answer. But we’re told he’s testing Jesus, presumably in the hope of catching him out, trying to make him say something that will get him in trouble. But, as so often, Jesus turns the question back: what is written in the law? Jesus is pointing out to the lawyer the blindingly obvious. You know the answer, he is saying.

And, of course, he does - as we all do. To receive eternal life, we must love God and love our neighbour - simple, straightforward.

But sometimes the most simple things are also the most profound. Loving God and loving our neighbour couldn’t be more straightforward, until we try to live it out.

The lawyer wants to justify himself. He wants to prove to Jesus that he’s a good Jew, that he does indeed keep the law, and that he will therefore qualify for eternal life. So he asks the question - who is my neighbour? - expecting in return from Jesus a list of people who are included in that designation.

I suspect the answer he wanted was people like you. Good Jewish people who keep the law and don’t rock the boat. He certainly wouldn’t want the answer to include those whom the Jewish people saw as unclean or as their enemies. The divide between Jew and Gentile was great. If the Jews were to remain pure, that divide needed to stay in place.

But, as so often with Jesus, the answer the lawyer wanted was not the one he got. Instead of a list of acceptable neighbours and those who were not, Jesus told a story: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho . . .”

Often those who hear this story assume that Jesus is saying - everyone is my neighbour, even those people whom I hate. But, if we look more carefully, we see that the neighbour in the story is not the injured man, the one in need, but the one who offers help. So often this story is interpreted that the one in need is the neighbour to whom we most show love. And, of course, that’s an important message. But . . .

“Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbour to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” He said: “The one who showed him mercy.”

The neighbour in this instance is the Samaritan, the one who showed love, not the one who received it. 

The Levite and the priest were not good neighbours. They were blinded to the need of the wounded man. So caught up were they in their own concerns, in their not wanting to get involved, in their desire to stay pure, that, though they noticed the man, they passed on by. Their many rules and regulations would not have let them touch the injured traveller, just in case he was not a Jew - of course, there was no way of telling since the man had no clothes on by this point. They didn’t know who he was.

But, if there was a possibility that he might contaminate them, either because he was not Jewish or because he was dead, they had to avoid him at all costs. If a priest touched something unclean, he would lose his entitlement to tithes and so put his well-being and that of his family at risk. Priests had to remain ritually clean; the process to restore this cleanliness was time-consuming and expensive, so it really wasn’t worth risking that.

The true neighbour was the Samaritan. We miss the impact of what that means, because the word Samaritan does not induce in us the same horror it would have done in the lawyer’s mind. But we have equivalents which will make this story powerful again. Perhaps, knowing that the man who was attacked was Jewish, putting a Nazi in the role of Samaritan might cause some impact.

A real-life Good Samaritan might be someone like Valentin Müller. Müller was the Nazi in charge of Assisi’s hospitals during the Occupation in the Second World War. He persuaded the authorities to declare Assisi a hospital city, which meant that the troops were kept out of the town and the fighting away from it.  He arranged for German troops to be evacuated so that the Allies wouldn’t be tempted to bomb Assisi. When they left, he arranged for large quantities of medicine to be left in Assisi for use by its resident, something that put him at risk of a severe punishment, but certainly an action that would be seen as one of a good neighbour. And he continued to visit Jewish homes long after any other doctor.

Perhaps today in 2007, the shock factor would be highest if we cast in the role of the Samaritan, a Muslim fundamentalist, maybe a member of Al-Qaeda.

To be a neighbour was to show compassion for others, not to be bound by laws and conventions, but to act in mercy and love. To be a neighbour was not about a clearly defined set of who was in and who was out. To be a neighbour was to show compassion to those in need.

The lawyer was after a straightforward answer - and in reality that is what he received. A neighbour is one who shows mercy.

Go and be a neighbour, Jesus was saying. Don’t worry about who the person is or where they’ve come from before you act as a neighbour. Don’t worry about whether you will be defiled before you become a neighbour. Don’t let yourself be blinded by your own concerns so that you are prevented from being a neighbour. Just go out and do likewise.

One very good example from this village of people acting as good neighbours was the way in which people cared for Nancy Tranter - visiting her, taking her shopping and to the doctors, helping her with finance and admin.-type stuff and so on. People giving of their time and skills and of themselves to be a neighbour to someone in need.

What, I wonder, prevents us from being a good neighbour? Are we blinded to the need around by our prejudices, by the boundaries we draw around ourselves about who it is and isn’t acceptable to help? What would have happened, if the Samaritan had seen the victim as a Jew rather than as a person in need of help?

Are we blinded by a lack of time that causes to be so busy that we don’t lift our eyes beyond our own busy lives? What would have happened, if the Samaritan had been too intent on reaching his destination in time to stop and help bandage up the wounded man and bathe his wounds in wine and oil and put him on his donkey and take him to an inn?

Are we blinded by a lack of generosity? What would have happened, if the Samaritan had not been generous enough to open his purse and pay the innkeeper and promise to make good any shortfall?

Are we blinded by our own shortsightedness? What would have happened, if the Samaritan had had the attitude that charity begins at home or that he was living a good life because he didn’t do anyone harm?

It takes honesty to face up to who we identify most with in the story, particularly if it’s one of the characters portrayed in a bad light, but Jesus’s commandment is clear: Go and do likewise.

Go and offer love to those in need. Keep your eyes open so that you are aware of where the need is. Open your purses to help those who have nothing. Be compassionate. Show mercy. Love God. Love your neighbour.