"Just Love."

Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood
First Congregational UCC, Manhattan, KS
July 14, 2016
Sermon Text - Luke 10:25-37

It’s one of those weeks where a preacher looks at the texts assigned in the Lectionary and then looks at the news going on out there in the world and has to just shake her head a little bit. The parallels are too bizarre.

Seems like most days this week, we woke up to bad news. First in Baton Rouge, then in Minneapolis, then in Dallas. News of continued violence day after day in the midst of a summer that's already had more than its fair share of violence - not just here at home, of course, but around the globe.

In the face of these ongoing horrors, some of us weep. Some of us mourn. Some of us grit our teeth in anger. Some of us throw our hands up, sick and tired of feeling like nothing ever changes. Some of us turn away, unable to stomach the bad news that just seems to keep coming  and coming and coming.

None of these responses are wrong. They just are what they are. I'll confess I've been known to have all of these responses….sometimes in one day.

After sitting with the story of the Good Samaritan this week and having my heart broken wide open by the news that just keeps coming in waves, I honestly don't have it in me to preach a big ol’ prophetic “we have to fix all the systems that perpetuate violence!” sermon today. Of course we must keep working to fix the broken systems that perpetuate violence and thrive on racism. That’s a given. Justice work never seems to be finished. Jesus once said that we would always have the poor with us….and I've always kind of thought that's because we will always have unjust systems with us. It's a lifelong struggle, this working for a world where all are respected as beloved children of God, all are loved, all are free, all are treated as precious. The struggle is not likely to end anytime soon, so of course we can always do more.

And that is, of course, one takeaway we could find in the story of the Good Samaritan. It’s such a powerful story because Jesus left out just enough of the details to make it inviting. We can imagine ourselves into all of the characters. We can wonder about all of the information that's left out. We can turn it over again and again to find new truths. That's the beauty of a parable - it doesn't have one right answer. It contains many truths.

The story begins like this: a priest, a Levite, and a Samaritan walk down the Jericho road. This is not just any road. Martin Luther King, Jr., in the speech he gave the day before he was killed, talked about a trip he and Coretta once took to the Holy Land. He says he noticed right away that the Jericho road is dangerous. It’s remote, winding. MLK said “it's really conducive to ambushing.” In short: it's not a place you'd really want to be walking alone. And if you were alone and you saw someone else injured on the side of the road, you might not want to stop for fear of what would happen to you.

So a priest and a Levite see this injured person - left for dead. And they do not stop to help. Over the centuries, people have wondered and puzzled over why they didn't stop. I mean, these are the “good guys.” Respected religious authorities. They should stop. Why didn't they stop? Some say that they didn't want to potentially risk their own religious purity by touching blood or a dead body. Others, like Dr. King, have surmised that they were scared. Because, you know, you look around and you're in this remote place and this guy has obviously just been robbed violently….maybe those robbers are still around and they'll attack us, too.

I have another theory to add to the mix - one that came to me this week as I'm watching so many in our own time struggle through the ongoing pain present in our own world. Maybe they were just tired of bad news. It's a dangerous road. People were probably hurt there all the time. We don't know - maybe they passed injured people on the road all the time. You know, you see one injured person - that first time, it's a shock and you DO something. But when the bodies keep coming day after day, week after week...eventually you start to get tired. Eventually, even the kindest person finds that it's difficult to keep their heart open to the pain in the world. Compassion fatigue. It's real.

We don't know why they didn't stop.

What we do know is this: when Jesus tells the story, the hero is neither the priest nor the Levite. And this is a formulaic kind of thing….it would have been common to tell a story and have three characters. The first and the second get it wrong. They've heard stories told like this before. They know the first two are going to get it wrong. They're waiting for the third person because they know they're going to be the hero - the one who gets it right.

So the listeners are waiting for the third person to come and save the day. Imagine their surprise when the hero is a Samaritan. Very unexpected. Because the people listening to this story would not have generally held Samaritans in high regard. They were the Other. Not expected to play the hero.

And yet - the Samaritan is the hero. Not only does he stop to help the injured man but he goes above and beyond, taking him to safety and leaving money with another person to ensure his continued healing and safety.

Dr. King says it quite beautifully: he says that when the priest and the Levite saw the injured man on the side of the road, they asked themselves, “If I stop and help, what's going to happen to me?” But King says that when the Samaritan saw the injured man he asked himself, “If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?”

Jesus is telling this whole story in response to a lawyer who is asking him how to inherit eternal life. Jesus says to him, “Well, it's pretty simple. Look at your law books there. What do they say?” The lawyer knows the answer. He's got the head knowledge. He reads, “We're supposed to love God with all our strength, all our soul, all our might….and love our neighbors as we love ourselves.”

The lawyer isn't dumb. He understands that it's nearly impossible to love so broadly. So he asks a follow up question, hoping to find a way to make it all a little easier (I really like this guy). He says, “Yeah, Jesus. But who exactly is my neighbor?” And then Jesus tells this story.

This story is about a lot of things. It's about who is in and who is out. It's about the silliness of ever assuming anyone is out (because, spoiler alert: we’re all in). Dr. King preached another sermon on this text, earlier on in his ministry, and he said this story is not just about stopping to help someone who has already been injured. It compels us to ask, “Why is this person injured?” And to find ways to intervene and change systems and structures that continue to hurt people again and again. It's not enough to keep reducing beloved humans into hashtags. We have to figure out how to dismantle the racism and militarism that enables the killings. It's not enough to mourn the lives of five beloved humans who were killed on Thursday night in Dallas while trying to do a hard job. We have to reckon with a history of white supremacy that wrongly convinced the shooter that violence and retribution was the only solution.

As I think about this text and I think about Dr. King who once said, “I've decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear,” I notice that this story begins with a conversation about love.

Not that sentimental feeling and roses and teddy bears and cuddles. That's all fine, too, but this story is about the love that Christ compels us to have for one another….even if we don't know each other, even if (or perhaps especially if) we don't like each other. A love that goes beyond race, clan, geographic location, or any of the other divisions we humans seem so keen on inventing.

This is the love we share for one another simply because we are all humans - and we are all beloved children of God. This is the love that stems from being rooted in the knowledge that we are loved by God and we are called to love God fully with all our strength, our soul and all our might. From that rootedness...that deep and abiding love for the Holy, we become lovers of all of creation.

This doesn't happen overnight. Some days we get close and other days when we miss the mark entirely. No matter. We keep trying. We keep choosing love.

In the face of hatred, we love.
In the face of violence, we love.
In the face of fear, we love.
In the face of evil, we love.
In the face of terror, we love.
In the face of pain, we love.

We just keep loving and loving  and loving. It is our birthright, as children of the one whose name is Love. We carry a bit of that love inside of us no matter what. It cannot be removed from us.

That love was still burning bright inside of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile when they were killed. That love was still burning inside Brent Thompson, Patrick Zamarripa, Michael Krol, Lorne Ahrens, and Michael Smith - the five officers that died in Dallas on Thursday. That love was inside the countless number of people in Bangladesh, Saudi Arabia, Turkey, Iraq who have died during Ramadan.

That love transcends race, nationality, religion and any other division we invent. It cannot be stopped. It will not be stopped. It does not belong to us, it belongs to the Holy One whose name is Love and who comes in love again and again and again.

And here’s something more - I believe that love even remains inside the hearts of those who did the killing - that love was still there, even though they were unable to access it. I don't believe in good guys and bad guys. I believe in beloved children of Love who can sometimes be led so far astray by the evil forces in this world that they forget who they are.

And when we forget that our name is Love, we forget that we are rooted in Love, we forget that every other person we encounter is named Love….well, when we forget that, then we are capable of doing some really terrible, evil, horrible things.

When the Good Samaritan stopped on the side of the Jericho road, he was living into his birthright as a child of Love. He was in touch with his Source - the one who is named Love. He was in touch with the shared humanity of the person laying on the side of the road. He used all of that awareness and strength to DO LOVE.

I don't know what else to do, folks. But love. We have to keep loving. In the face of all the horrors, we keep loving. We remember we are loved and we keep loving. It's the main thing - maybe even the only thing that matters.