Sermon for Pentecost 5: "Jesus the Good Samaritan"

 + 5^th Sunday after Pentecost – July 13^th, 2025 +

Series C: Leviticus 19-9-18; Colossians 1:1-14; Luke 10:25-37

Beautiful Savior Lutheran Church

Milton, WA

 

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

 

Whenever you watch a movie or read a story a little game begins in your imagination. You imagine yourself in the story. You see Sherlock Holmes and imagine yourself as a clever, witty detective hunting down the villain. You see Superman and picture yourself leaping tall buildings with a single bound to rescue the child from certain danger. You and I picture ourselves, indeed we long to be, the hero or heroine of the story, the good guy, the Oscar winner for best actor/actress.

 

Jesus’ parables are no different. When you hear Jesus tell the story of the Good Samaritan – one of his most famous and familiar stories - who do you imagine yourself to be? Well, I sure don’t want to be that priest and Levite, unwilling to get their hands dirty and bloody and ritually unclean. And no one wants to be a bloodied and bruised, half-dead mess of a guy in the ditch. So, your answer is probably the same as mine; it’s gotta be…the Samaritan. 

 

And it’s tempting…easy even…to cast ourselves in the lead role of this parable. To put ourselves in the spotlight at center stage of this story and come out with a great moral lesson on helping others and being a neighbor to others around you – whoever that may be. And there is a place for you and I in this story…but it has to be as understudies, not the lead role. Jesus does instruct you and I to “Go and do likewise”, to be the compassionate neighbor you are in Him. But this comes only after Jesus is the neighbor to you. Only after Jesus has completely destroyed all our attempts to justify ourselves, and bound up our wounds, charging everything to his account, and places us in his holy inn.

 

You see, Jesus, the director, writer and producer of this divine drama, has the lead role of this parable set aside for someone else…and I’ll give you a hint, it’s not the lawyer; it’s not me; and it’s not you. It’s Jesus. He’s the Good Samaritan for you. But we’re getting ahead of the story.

 

Remember that this whole story begins with a conversation – really, an interrogation, a testing, a cross-examination. A lawyer, a teacher of the Law of Moses comes up to Jesus and asks him, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus answers his law question with a law-answer. What is written in the Law? The Torah. The books of Moses. The lawyer answers correctly. Love God. Love your neighbor. Do this and live. 

But the lawyer pressed his case. Luke gives us an insight into the lawyer and this story. Desiring to justify himself, he said to Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

This is how the old Adam – your sinful flesh and mine – thinks. That God’s Law is doable. Achievable. Manageable. That it’s like a checklist you can mark off as you go. Well, I haven’t murdered anyone today. I haven’t looted any Nike stores this week. And who is my neighbor anyway? I’ll help that person out and mark them off my list too. You and I treat God’s Law like the tax code, always looking for loopholes and exemptions. That’s good for taxes, not so good for theology.

 

So, Jesus answers the lawyer not with a dictionary or a DIY list, but with a story. 

 

There was a man who fell among thieves on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho. Jesus knew this road well; it was known as the Way of Blood. A popular pilgrim highway ripe for robbers and thugs. The man is stripped, beaten, and left for dead on the roadside.

Three travelers come across the man. The first, a priest, passed by on the opposite side of the road. No sense becoming ritually unclean by touching a dead body. Hard to do priestly things if you’re ritually unclean. Wouldn’t be safe or prudent or pure. 

 

Along comes a Levite, a priestly assistant. Second verse same as the first. He passes by the man. Finally a third man comes along. Jesus’ hearers would’ve expected someone like a Jewish layman to be next. Priest. Levite. Layman. But no. There’s a shocking, scandalous surprise. 

 

The third man stops. He’s filled with a gut-wrenching compassion. He jumps down into the ditch. Cleans the man’s wounds. bandages. First aid. Oil and wine. Sets him on his own donkey. Travels to a local village, where he’s probably hated and considered an outsider by everyone in town, pays for the man’s room and board, and tells the innkeeper to charge any additional costs to his account. 

 

And who was this kind stranger? We call him the good Samaritan. But this word doesn’t hit our ears the same way it would’ve hit Jesus’ hearers in the 1^st century. We hear Samaritan and think Good Sam Hospital or being a Good Samaritan. But in Jesus’ day, Samaritans were good for nothing. Half-breed heretics. The lowest of the low. Samaria was a place of outlaws and fugitives and idol worshippers.

 

We come back to the question…who are you and I in this story? Are you the nearly-dead man in the ditch? Or are you the lawyer and the priest and the Levite? The answer is yes. You and I are both the lawyer and priest and Levite – always looking to justify ourselves, and you and I are the nameless, lifeless half-dead, bloody, broken man in the ditch. There’s a little lawyer in each of us…who loves to stand in the courtroom with all the cameras on and argue your own case and present all the evidence. “At least I’m not as bad as others.” Deep down I’m really a good person. Truth is, there’s no end to the ways you and I attempt to justify ourselves. 

 

But you and I are also the man left for dead along the roadside. Broken by sin. Dead in trespasses. Wounded. Weary. Bruised and beaten by the world. Bloodied and left for dead by griefs. Sorrows. Aches and pains. Chronic diseases and cancers. Broken families. Broken bodies. Broken lives. 

 

Your story needs a hero. You need the Good Samaritan. One who has born your griefs and carried your sorrows. One whose wounds heal you and words give you life. Where you and I keep a check-list of our greatest and worst accomplishments, Jesus holds no records of wrongs and cancels your debt. Where you and I fail to love God and our neighbor, Jesus loves you with a perfect, sacrificial love.

 

Jesus is the Good Samaritan who travels the Way of Blood all the way to the cross for you. He pours out his gut-wrenching compassion to justify sinners. He is despised and rejected for you. He jumps down into the ditch and gets his hands and feet and whole body down in the mud and the blood and the uncleanness your brokenness and sin for you. He binds your wounds and heals you with his own. He charges every one of your expenses and debts to his own account. 

 

Jesus, the Good Samaritan, is also the one who also brings you and keeps you safe in the sacred inn of his holy Church. Here, He gives you food and drink and fellowship. A safe haven. A place of rest and restoration in the blood of Jesus. A place where you are given to bear one another’s burdens. A place where weary, broken sinners are also blessed to be innkeepers and stewards of the Good Samaritan’s gracious gifts. 

 

And as you travel the road of this life, Jesus is your Good Samaritan, and in him, you are good Samaritans too. Your life and faith and story are safe in the wounded, crucified and risen hands of Jesus your Good Samaritan.

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.