St. Christopher's Episcopal Church: Sermons

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A Sermon Preached at St. Christopher's Episcopal Church, Oak Park, IL
Seventh Sunday after Pentecost, July 11, 2004 (Proper 10, Year C)
by the Rev. Deb Seles

Deuteronomy 30:14
Luke 10:25-37

When I was first learning to park it was among the things that terrified me the most. My poor, infinitely patient father would sit in the passenger seat telling me, "Turn! Turn! Turn!" while gesticulating first one way and then another. Of course, this was in the days way before power steering so there would be much cranking back & forth of the steering wheel. And nervous and confused, I never knew which way he was gesturing. That I learned to parallel park at all is something of a small miracle. I just don't have the kind of mind that can judge distances well & I still wrangle back & forth to get into parking spaces.

So the other day, when I had to go down to the cathedral for a meeting, I was determined to get a spot on the side streets, had brought my quarters to feed the meter and started to back into a spot in front of the Whole Foods grocery store a few blocks from the cathedral. I was hopelessly far from the curb when I saw an apparently homeless man gesturing to me & showing me that I was still three feet from the curb. He cranked his arms back and forth, reminding me of my father's gestures so many years ago. It probably took us five minutes but I managed to get into the spot after all.

The whole time, I was thinking, "He's probably on drugs or an alcoholic and will beg some money off me when I get out of the car." And sure enough, he asked me for money. "Can you help a hungry man?" he asked. Now I always have a grappling with giving street people money, I go through the whole dilemma of whether it is feeding some alcohol or drug habit; I know I am not attacking the root cause of their homelessness. Simultaneously I feel guilty and somehow manipulated. Sometimes I give folks money when they ask, other times I do not. But I figured he'd earned this, after all, he'd helped me out and so I gave him some money as I pulled my quarters out to feed the meter.

"The word of God is very near you, it is in your mouth and in your heart," we've heard Moses in what was to be his last speech to the nation of Israel just before they were to enter the Promised Land. He reminds them that heaven is right there in their midst if only they recognize it and seize it. It is not far off, it is right in the midst of them.

The word of God, so easy to consider this just a fanciful notion or some unattainable ideal. But Moses says it is right here in the bodies of the faithful people-in their mouths and inscribed in their hearts. Whatever would that look like? What does it mean to have the word of God inscribed in our hearts and on our mouths?

Something to help us wrap our minds and our hearts around this notion of the word of God is to remember that when God speaks, things happen. When God speaks, the world is created. When God speaks, a virgin conceives. When God speaks, the Spirit enters a frightened group of men and women and the world is changed forever. So to say that the word of God is in our hearts and in our mouths is to say that God's world changing power is right here with us. Pretty heady stuff, wouldn't you say? Do you feel that way much of the time?

Or are we like the Israelites, tired from a long journey, freed from slavery but not yet into the Promised Land? So much of our lives we stand between the slavery of our old lives in sin and the fullness of our lives in the Promised Land of God's glory here on earth. How are we to believe the prophet Moses when he speaks God's word to us down the ages that the word of God is not in inaccessible heaven somewhere, not over the ocean, not so unintelligible that we too can understand it? And don't we say as Episcopalians, one of the reasons we gather together is to share our struggles and our questioning together? If the word of God truly were in our hearts and in our mouths, shouldn't it be obvious what we are to say and do?

The lawyer questioning Jesus about what he must do to gain eternal life was engaging in good Jewish spiritual practice. Debate about religious fine points was part of the life of the faithful-in first century Judaism as much as it is today. So this lawyer, wanting to see if Jesus was worth his salt, asked the question and then expands on it. The lawyer engages in what each of us is involved in when we struggle with our ethical questions. What is demanded of me?

"Who is my neighbor," is a question that begs-how far do I have to go in love? In good rhetorical style, Jesus does not answer directly but poses the now famous parable we've come to know as "The Good Samaritan." When Jesus concludes and tells the lawyer to, "Go and do likewise," the predictable conclusion is that the lawyer and all of us who hear and follow Jesus should care for the downtrodden, regardless of national or other rivalries.

Good advice, wouldn't you say? If that is the word of God, then it is indeed obvious and it should be in our hearts and on our mouths. How many sermons, lectures from parents and school teachers and others have told us to look out for those we would normally despise?

But it wouldn't be anything radical when we interpreted it this way. Even if we consider that in just the last chapter of Luke, Jesus rebuked James and John, the two disciples who wanted to rain lightning upon the Samaritans who had rejected Jesus. Jesus' message would not be so different from other prophets, the Christian message not so different from other ethics.

I'd like to pose an alternative interpretation: what if Jesus means that we should be prepared, when we are the downtrodden, when we are helpless, when we are in need and an enemy is willing to help us, we need to surrender to him. What it meant to me to accept the help of a homeless man last week meant that, for a moment, we were thrust into the same world. I could no longer pretend that we occupied different universes, that I was capable and he, incapable that I was superior and he, inferior. That five minute encounter forced a new recognition of the power of the word of God in my life.

"Who is my neighbor?" If we see this question from a point of superiority, we are asking, "What is the outer limit of my love? How far do I have to extend myself? I've got the 'goods' (however we define this) and I probably don't have enough for everyone, so how far do I have to go?" Jesus reminds us that his is a radical gospel, an overturning of all restrictive ways of looking at love. He begs us to consider the word of God, already inscribed in our hearts and in our mouths as being without limits. If we are the naked beaten person, thrown into a ditch by thieves and we are restored to health by our enemy, what does that do to the restrictions and limitations we have created between ourselves and others?

A man fell into a pit and couldn't get himself out.
   A subjective person came along and said, "I feel for you down there."
   An objective person came along and said, "It's logical that someone would fall down there."
   A Pharisee said, "Only bad people fall into a pit."
   A mathematician calculated how he fell into the pit.
   A news reporter wanted an exclusive story on his pit.
   A fundamentalist said, "You deserve your pit."
   A politician said, "Vote for me & I will fill all the pits!"
   An IRS agent asked if he was paying taxes on the pit.
   A self-pitying person said, "You haven't seen anything until you've seen my pit."
   A charismatic said, "Just confess that you're not in a pit."
   An optimist said, "Things could be worse."
   A pessimist said, "Things will get worse."
   Jesus, seeing the man, took him by the hand and lifted him out of the pit!

The simplicity and the complexity of the good news is that Jesus is both rescuer and the one we must recognize in the pit. As children of God, we are already saved, already redeemed and in that fellowship as God's children we are called to be neighbors of the world. So the command to "Go and do likewise" can be read as a command to realize a reality beyond our understanding: that God's love through Christ has made us citizens of the world. God's love has already erased the divisions between helpers and helpless. We are called to live into that reality by what we say and by what we do with one another. This then is the word of God that is already inscribed in our hearts. May its truth also be now what we proclaim with our mouths.