Jump Start # 1512
Luke 10:37 “And he said, ‘The one who showed mercy toward him.’ Then Jesus said to him, ‘Go and do the same.’”
Go and do—that’s the central core to the N.T. principles and teachings. Christianity is a doing religion. It begins internally within us by becoming what God wants. But it doesn’t stop there. It spreads to the outside, by living those principles and becoming that light into the world.
Our verse today comes from the story of the good Samaritan. That’s what we call this parable. The Bible never uses that expression, but it is very fitting. The Samaritan was the hero of the story. He was good. A man was beaten and robbed and left on the side of the road. Now, one can spend a lot of time debating why that happened. Maybe he shouldn’t have been walking alone on those dangerous, curvy roads that lead from Jerusalem to Jericho. They were known to be the hiding places of desperados. It doesn’t matter whether the man was foolish, irresponsible, careless, of just plain dumb. The truth is he was robbed, hurt and left to die. No one deserves that. A priest passed by and did nothing. The priest saw him. The priest was probably heading home. His duty of serving in the temple was complete. He was off the clock. It wasn’t his problem nor his responsibility. The injured man could have been a trap. The man may have already been dead. Not only did the priest fail to do anything, he failed to tell anyone. Not my problem. One wonders if he had trouble going to sleep that night. Next came a Levite. He also worked in the temple. These men represent those who serve people and the Lord. He saw the injured man. He passed by on the other side. Nothing. Nothing said. Nothing done. No help sent. But the hero, our good Samaritan, felt compassion. He cared for the man. He took him to a place of safety and comfort. He followed up by promising to do more if it was necessary.
This story answers a question that someone asked Jesus. A person wanted to know about eternal life. Jesus asked him, “What is written in the law?” He responded by saying, ‘Love the Lord and love your neighbor.’ That was it. That was the correct answer. Do that and you will have eternal life. The man pushed the question. “Who is my neighbor?” Our story, the good Samaritan, answers that question. Your neighbor is more than the guy who lives across the street from you. Your neighbor is more than someone you know. Your neighbor is anyone that you can help. It may include someone that you disagree with. It may be someone that you have never met before. I dare say, if the roles were switched, and it was the Samaritan who was robbed and was laying injured, the man he helped would have passed by on the other side. Jews didn’t help Samaritans. If given the choice between helping a hurt animal or an injured Samaritan, most Jews would have helped the animal first. That was the feeling and the thinking back then. Your neighbor is even that kind of person, one that would not help you.
It is here that Jesus states, “Go and do the same.” Go and do. Don’t go and tell. Don’t go and share. Don’t go and teach. Go and do. It’s the doing part that has bothered me for a long time. I have found myself surrounded with Christians. I see myself always helping fellow Christians. They had questions, I found the answers for them. They had concerns, I was there for them. Faithful, loyal and dedicated, but surrounded by Christians. It was that Jew– Samaritan difference that bothered me. It was missing. The people in my life, the people I was helping, the people I was engaged with were all like me. We were all cut from the same cloth. Good was being done. I was smothered in work, God’s work, but this one dimension was missing. I have thought about it for a long, long time.
Last week, on our California trip, something special happened. The group that I was with, took a day and went to downtown L.A., skid row, to a shelter to help feed homeless people. We saw a side of L.A. that most never see. It wasn’t the beautiful mountains, the mansions, the glitzy Hollywood. Instead it was a forty block area of tents and tarps lining the sidewalks. People were walking about, like zombies. Debris and trash filled the streets. I have been to India, and this brought back scenes from there. In this wonderful shelter, in the middle of this hopeless zone is a haven for those who want to change. Help awaits them. There they house those who want to get help and get out. Food is given to them. Free clothing and personal items were given to them. Bibles were given to them. Many, stay on the outside of this shelter. They are not ready to leave the alcohol and drugs that have destroyed their lives. They do not want to commit to the rigid program. They will shuffle in for a meal but then they go back to the streets. What a scene it was for me. There were mothers with lots of little children. Wide eyed and scared looking, those sweet faces are dependent upon their mothers making the right choices. There were four waves of people we fed that day. The last group, the largest, were the men. Many were coming in from the streets. As they walked in, the room smelled of urine. Some hadn’t combed their hair in weeks. Their clothes were dirty as they were. We smiled. We tried to interact. We gave them a plate of food. Many said nothing. Some wanted more. A few thanked us.
My mind raced back to the scene from our passage today. I have easily dismissed the homeless as those who have chosen the consequences that comes from drugs and alcohol. Don’t drink and don’t do drugs and you won’t wind up there. That’s not the story for every one there. And in thinking this way, have I also joined the priest and the Levite, walking on the other side of the road? The scene from the Christmas Carol also crossed my mind. I had just recently watched it again. Ebenezer declares “are there not work houses” for the poor? Out of mind and out of sight and out of personal obligation has been my response. One day dishing out food in a mission house opened my eyes. Those folks, most a different race, miles and miles from where I live, are my neighbor. Why they are in that condition is not as important as they have needs and I can do something about that.
The good Samaritan wasn’t a church. He wasn’t an organization. Those are nice and neat ways to soothe our conscience. I’ll drop some money in the church plate or send a check to an organization and allow them to do all the work. The Samaritan was an individual. He is me. He is you. He didn’t have the backing of a foundation, a church or an organization. He simply did what he could do. He didn’t stop future people from being robbed and beaten. He didn’t chase down the thieves and bring them to justice. He simply helped where he could help. He helped a hurting man.
I left that shelter believing that what happened helped me much more than I helped them. Back home in my safe and secure Indiana, far away from those ratty tents in downtown L.A., the image has stayed with me. It has opened my eyes to look for neighbors who need me. It has moved me to want to do more in my area. It’s not just the homeless, it’s the discouraged, it’s the lost, it’s the neglected, it’s those with all kinds of needs. We can spend so much time with each other that we fail to see others. We can draw our circle so tight among us that we appear as a country club. Those on the inside enjoy the benefits, but those on the outside are ignored and excluded. I doubt that Jesus would approve of such thinking. We can do better. We must do better. Before anyone will listen to you, they must know that you care about them. Every person has a story. Every person has a journey. Listen. Engage. Talk. Do what you can.
I remember the story of a man walking along the beach. It was covered with starfish that came in with the tide. Now out in the sun, those starfish were struggling. The man was picking them up, one by one and tossing them back into the ocean. A person watching all this, and seeing the beach covered with those starfish, asked him, “Do you think you can make a difference?” The man tossed another starfish into the water and replied, “I just did to that one.” That’s what we must do. We can’t stop the tide nor change what has happened, but we can make a difference, at least to one.
Go and do the same—has a special meaning for me now.
Roger