An Inconvenient Sacrifice: A Sermon on Luke 10:25-37 (Proper 10C)

Nearly every person who has heard about Christianity—and perhaps even every person who hasn’t—has heard the parable of the Good Samaritan in one form or another. We know the familiar story of the victim beset by bandits and left for dead, the religious authorities of the time passing by without helping him, and finally the outcast, the Samaritan, reaching forth his arms in love for the victim—just as Jesus Christ reached out his arms on the cross to save each of us. The catch, however, is that Jesus not only saves each of us, but he also calls each of us to help complete his work in the world. Likewise, Paul reminds the Colossians in today’s epistle that they are called by God, who has enabled them to “share in the inheritance of the saints in the light.” As with Jesus’ call to all of us, this inheritance is both a great gift and a great responsibility, just as the saints were called to duty, and just as many of the saints were called to sacrifice their lives for their faith and for other people.

In today’s readings we see examples of people who betray their vocations to satisfy their own needs. The priest Amaziah lives out a life of luxury as King Jeroboam’s priest by telling him what he wants to hear rather than what he needs to hear, that God intends for his kingdom to fall. In Luke’s gospel, the priest and the Levite look at the waylaid victim but barely acknowledge his existence as they cross the road to pass by him.

On the flip side of the coin, we see examples of people who are called by God and who step up to live out their calls, despite great personal risk. The prophet Amos is sent by God to call the priest Amaziah to account for his failings as a priest, and Amos receives only death threats for his trouble. The Samaritan stops to help the victim, despite being alone in a bandit-infested land. He then goes the greater step of paying for the stranger’s housing at an inn, handing over two denarii to the innkeeper. So that we can understand what this must have cost the Samaritan, the Oxford Study Bible tells us that, “two denarii would provide approximately two months of lodging at an ancient inn.” So let’s do the math: At today’s prices, even a very modest inn would cost about $50 per night so, for 60 days, this good Samaritan would be handing over about $3,000, not including meals! How many of us would be willing to throw down $3,000 in cash for a stranger? This is definitely a financial sacrifice for the Samaritan.

Now, on the coin’s edge, we find the lawyer, likely a Scribe or someone well-versed in the Torah. We often forget the lawyer in Luke’s gospel because we are so caught up in the parable of the Good Samaritan, but the lawyer provides an intriguing perspective which for many of us probably hits close to home. Here, we have an educated person, able to articulate the letter of the law to Jesus. After all, in Luke’s account, it is the lawyer who recites the great commandments. But this lawyer seems intent on circumventing the spirit of the law to suit his own agenda, as we read that he tries to weasel his way out of responsibility by asking Jesus to specify who his neighbor is.

Here, the lawyer sheds light on our own preference to make things convenient for ourselves, sometimes even at the expense of other people. The self-preservation instinct is very strong in all of us, so it can be difficult to execute a conscious decision to hurt ourselves to help someone else. Jesus refuses to accept this, though, and he tells a parable whose moral is that the vocations to which we are called are often inconvenient. At our core, we are called to vocations which include self-sacrifice, and sacrifice is not sacrifice at all if it’s convenient or pleasant. Jesus’ answer is that the lawyer’s neighbor is not the priest or the Levite but rather, as the lawyer grudgingly admits, “the one who showed him mercy.”

Jesus tells the lawyer to “Go and do likewise.” But Jesus also says this for our benefit, since we have all received the great commandments: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” We have already seen that love requires great sacrifice, given the personal risk and expense to which the Samaritan goes. But more than that, it requires that we make inconvenient choices on a regular basis.

At the 1993 Commencement Address at The Citadel, President Ronald Reagan remarked:

“The character that takes command in moments of crucial choices has already been determined. It has been determined by a thousand other choices made earlier in seemingly unimportant moments. It has been determined by all the little choices of years past—by all those times when the voice of conscience was at war with the voice of temptation—whispering the lie that it really doesn’t matter. It has been determined by all the day-to-day decisions made when life seemed easy and crises seemed far away—the decisions that, piece by piece, bit by bit, developed habits of discipline or of laziness, habits of self-sacrifice or of self-indulgence, habits of duty and honor and integrity—or dishonor and shame.”

In our Baptismal Covenant, we vow that, with God’s help, we will seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves. The core of our vocation, then, is that we are called to sacrifice for others, but it’s the kind of sacrifice which must be practiced. Like professional athletes, we have to train regularly—and painfully—to make ourselves capable of doing that to which we are called. Those day-to-day decisions prepare us and make us who we are. In turn, who we are determines not only how we will perform when called to sacrifice, but also whether or not we’ll be willing to sacrifice at all for someone else.

Luke portrays the lawyer as wanting to justify himself. This lawyer claimed to be righteous because he believed the letter of the law to be everything. But righteousness is not about the letter of the law. It’s not about who we claim to be. It’s not about who we become on camera. Righteousness is about who we are when the words go away and what we do when we don’t have time to think about it. It’s about who we are when no one else is watching. It’s about what theologian Douglas John Hall calls an “impulse to kindness” which every human being shares—even if we sometimes choose to ignore it. It’s about the universal call of love that is God’s call to us. Being Christian is just that: not just believing Christian or confessing Christian—though this is asked of us as well—but being Christian, being an instrument of God’s love in this world.

Amen.