Who is My Neighbor? And How Do I Love Them?

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Good morning, I'm Helen and I'm part of the Christ Church Youth Group.

Today's scripture reading is from the book of Luke, chapter 10, verses 25 to 37, as printed

Luke 10:25–37

in your liturgy.

A reading from the gospel according to Luke.

On one occasion, an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus.

Teacher, he asked, what must I do to inherit eternal life?

What is written in the law, he replied.

How do you read it?

He answered, 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 love your neighbor as yourself.

You've answered correctly, Jesus replied.

Do this and you will live.

But he wanted to justify himself.

So he asked Jesus, and who is my neighbor?

In reply, Jesus said, a man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho when he was attacked

by robbers.

They stripped him of his clothes, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead.

A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by

on the other side.

So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side.

But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was, and when he saw him, he took pity

on him.

He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine.

Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn, and took care of him.

The next day, he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper.

Look after him, he said, and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you

may have.

Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?

The expert in the law replied, the one who had mercy on him.

This is the gospel of the Lord.

Praise to you, O Christ.

Thank you, Halen.

That was a wonderful first time reading from you.

Look forward to you doing that many more times with us.

Praise God for our youth ministry.

Good morning, everyone.

My name is Andrew, and again, I'm one of the pastors here.

And I'm happy to be bringing God's word to you.

Our lead pastor, Jonathan, he's coming back.

Don't worry, he's coming back.

But today, he's not here, so it's me again.

And just a heads up, it's a little bit longer today because he's not here, so I get to do

what I want.

And just want to give you that heads up, all right?

Well, let's go to the Lord in prayer first.

Father, by your word and by your spirit, would what you have to say to us, would it mess us

up and make us whole at the same time?

Would these words of Jesus bring deep conviction of sin here at this church, at Christ Church

East Bay, and would it lead us to radical repentance, changed lives, and most of all,

holy compassion that makes a difference in the world in the name of Christ?

And show us, God, not only the depths of our sin through this passage, but the heights

of your grace and compassion toward us in Christ, your Son.

Amen.

Open our eyes to his beauty and his glory, and how right it is to worship him and follow

him as the Savior King he is, who gave his life, his whole self, to make us whole.

We ask this in the name of Jesus.

Amen.

Amen.

So, we're opening up a passage in Luke's Gospel that's, you know, it's become so famous and

formative that the very meaning of the word Samaritan has been redefined in the English-speaking

world, right?

Jesus was that amazing of a storyteller and teacher.

He literally changed the history and the language of the world so that even when people today

might know very little about him, as soon as their car breaks down and a stranger comes

in the rain and helps them fix that tire or drive them to wherever they need to go, what

do they say?

They say, wow, what a good Samaritan, right?

And they say it with honor, right?

It's an honorable compliment because being a good Samaritan is a virtue that's still celebrated

across all of society.

Even if few of us actually live up to this ideal, no matter what religion you belong to,

no matter your ethnic culture, no matter your socioeconomic status or what side of the political

aisle you lean on, we'd all say that the world would be better, right, if there were more

good Samaritans around, strangers helping strangers in need with compassion and hospitality, generosity,

care, and sacrifice.

So again, this is a super famous and very familiar, well-loved passage of Scripture, but I also

think that's what makes it challenging for a preacher and also for all of us trying to

take seriously these words of Jesus and hear them with fresh ears.

This passage has just become so familiar and formative for the Western world that we come

to it already knowing how the story ends, unable to feel in our bones how shocking and radical

and foolish it would have sounded to its original hearers, and we come to it just assuming that,

yeah, we already got the point.

Like, okay, of course, the pastor's going to preach on the Good Samaritan today, and it's

pretty straightforward.

Jesus tells a story about a dude who shows up and shows a lot of love toward a stranger,

and then he goes, go and do likewise, got it, right, love my neighbor, already knew that,

thanks for the reminder, okay?

It's just so familiar, it's not fresh to us.

And honestly, it probably doesn't inspire us that much toward the high standard of love

that God calls us to live by, not just as followers of Jesus, but as human beings made

in his image and called to honor the image of God in one another.

And even if this passage does hit us with conviction and maybe even guilt and shame, like, even

if you do take seriously how radically loving this Samaritan was, and you take seriously Jesus'

command to go and do likewise, because that's what Jesus says we must do to inherit eternal

life.

Man, even if this passage does convict you, what are we supposed to do with that?

Who can truly live up to that?

Who can love so completely, so sacrificially, day in, day out, every day?

Who can love with this kind of a love?

Maybe for some of us, we're like, I mean, I'm going to try.

I'm going to try to love more, but I also feel pretty defeated and crushed by this high

standard, and I'm 100% sure I'm going to fail over and over and over again.

I'm going to go into my workplace this week with good intentions, but I'm going to lose it.

I'm going to be short with that annoying colleague, right?

I'm going to go into my home.

I'm going to try to serve my spouse.

I'm going to try to be patient with my children, but I just know I'm not going to be able to

sustain it.

And these thoughts just kind of color how we read this parable, right?

Like, yeah, I want to do it.

I want to live wholly and selflessly all day, every day, but man, it also seems kind of impossible.

Who could love like this?

Seriously, how could I ever consistently love like this?

Is Jesus really demanding this, or is he just, you know, really, really encouraging

us to try our hardest?

Well, in case you thought that the main point today was going to be, go love your neighbor,

try harder.

Come on, guys.

You can do it.

Love your neighbor more, or else no eternal life.

In case you thought that that was it, the real point, I think, or the question for us

this morning is what is it, what is it that will truly transform us into people of radical,

self-giving, self-sacrificial love?

The kind of people we all know that we were meant to be.

The kind of people we all want to be.

The kind of people we all want our children to be.

I think we all know deep down eternal life.

New creation life is a life lived with this kind of love.

But the question is, how do we live like that?

How do we live like new creation people, rather than being stuck as fallen creation people,

unable to love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength, and unable to love our

neighbors as ourselves?

Because again, we're all agreed, even if you're not a Christian, even if you don't believe

in God, whatever religion or lack thereof that you identify with, we're all agreed that

the world would be a better place if there were more good Samaritans, if we all loved as

we ought, with the fullness of our lives.

But the question is, how?

How?

What's it going to take to produce good Samaritans out of selfish sinners like you and me and

the rest of our neighbors?

That's where we open up our text.

Let's see what verse 25 has to say.

On one occasion, an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus.

In the Greek, it's the word entrap, to entrap Jesus.

Teacher, he asked, probably, you know, feigning respect and teachability.

He says, teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?

So here's a guy who thinks he knows better than Jesus.

He's an expert in the scriptures that Jesus teaches from.

And so he subjects Rabbi Jesus to a theology exam.

Okay?

And the question on the exam is, what must I do to inherit eternal life?

Or what must I do to be an heir of eternal life?

This was a frequent question that the theologians, the Jewish theologians of that day loved to

discuss.

And probably also a very weighty question that occupied the minds of many Jewish people,

this question about eternal life.

And listen, what we need to understand about eternal life is that, contrary to what many

of us might understand it to be, it's not some heavenly, disembodied, timeless eternity.

That's Plato and not the Bible.

Okay?

When people ask Jesus, what must I do to inherit eternal life?

They're not simply asking, how can I escape to that heavenly destination outside of this world

when I die, or how can I live forever and avoid death or hell?

No, they're asking about how they can enter into the new world of the new age that God

was going to bring, the age of justice and peace and shalom.

How can I enter the perfect and imperishable kingdom of God, the new creation where there

are no tears and no fears?

Eternal life here is way more than living forever, going to heaven, or avoiding hell.

It's about belonging to God and his consummate new creation in the age to come.

That's what they're asking about.

So this was indeed a weighty and important question that Jesus was going to take seriously,

even if his questioner had bad intentions.

And what Jesus basically says is, well, you're an expert in the law.

You know the answer.

We both submit to the same divinely inspired authoritative scriptures.

I'm not here teaching anything different.

Verse 26, what is written in the law?

He replied.

How do you read it?

And this expert in the law gets the answer right.

It's the same answer Jesus gives when other people ask him the question.

In verse 27, the law expert answered, love the Lord your God with all your heart and

with all your soul and with all your strength, with all your mind, the greatest commandment,

right?

And then the second one that is like it, love your neighbor as yourself.

And Jesus applauds this man's theologically correct answer.

Verse 28, you have answered correctly.

Do this and you will live.

He basically says, yep, you just said it.

Go do it.

Love.

Love God.

Love your neighbor.

It's agape.

Now, at this point, the law expert is sure that he's at least got the first commandment

down, right?

He knows who he's supposed to love the most, Yahweh.

No other gods before him.

But as someone who pays close, close attention to the details of the law, he notices in the

second greatest commandment, this is trickier than the first commandment, because who exactly

is my neighbor?

That can be interpreted in a lot of ways, my next door neighbors, my regional neighbors,

my national neighbors, my international neighbors, my extraterrestrial neighbors.

Like how far out does this neighbor love thing go?

He was trying to figure out or at least get Jesus' take on just how many people he was responsible

for loving as he loved himself.

And why?

Well, it says because he was seeking to justify himself, seeking to declare himself righteous

and worthy in the eyes of God and others by identifying God's standard and then meeting

it himself.

Verse 29 says, but he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, and who is my neighbor?

So he's trying to pinpoint the standard, right?

He's trying to pinpoint the standard of this love your neighbor as your self-command.

He's trying to discover what are its limits?

Who am I actually and reasonably responsible for loving?

Because he knows that this commandment, just on the face of it, that's a tall order if

it's just that, right?

Loving my neighbor as myself?

That's near impossible to love anyone as myself.

So surely this can't just mean anyone and everyone, right?

Surely there are limits to who my neighbors are and to who I am responsible to love and

to care for and to alleviate their needs.

This law expert is looking for an interpretation of the law by which he can justify himself.

And honestly, he's looking for and hoping for a limited interpretation of this law of love

so that he can say that he meets the standard.

Like many of us, he's hoping for a low standard so that he can actually meet it with his lifestyle.

He's hoping that he doesn't have to love as much as this commandment could possibly be

demanding.

But Jesus, right?

But Jesus is not a rabbi with low standards and neither is his God and Father in heaven whom he represents.

And so seeing that this law expert is trying to justify himself, seeing him trying to lower

the standard of love and redefine who our neighbors are, and seeing this law expert's confidence

in his own ability to meet the standard and earn for himself eternal life, Jesus has a story to tell.

Not just to answer this man's question, but to reveal the heart of God and the hubris of this

expert in the law.

Verse 30.

In reply, Jesus said,

A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho when he was attacked by robbers.

They stripped him of his clothes, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead.

So imagine the scene.

The Jericho road is known to be steep and dangerous.

It's a mountainous territory full of crags and caves, twists and turns.

And because it's a perfect hideout for bad actors to hide and strike and then escape with

great ease, it's known as the way of blood.

It's like the darkest alley in the worst parts of the city, only the nearest streetlight is

miles away.

And so, of course, a lonely traveler would be an easy target.

And Jesus' listeners probably heard stories like this all the time of awful things happening

on this Jericho road.

And so, of course, in this story, something awful does happen.

A lonely traveler finds himself helpless, stripped, naked, shamefully, violently, beaten,

bloody, forsaken, half dead, and hopeless.

He will likely die here unless, one, someone happens to stumble upon him on this treacherous

road that no one wants to go on.

And two, that person also decides to show him compassion.

So, Jesus continues.

And there are indeed glimmers of hope, actually, in the story.

Three glimmers of hope.

And for this Jewish traveler, two of these glimmers of hope are the exact kinds of people

he could have hoped for to help him in his greatest time of need.

A priest and a Levi.

Verse 31.

A priest happened to be going down the same road.

And when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side.

So, too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side.

These priests, and this priest and this Levite, they were exactly the kinds of people he would

have expected to help him.

Professional, religious people of the day called to serve God and to serve God's people and

to show and represent God's love and compassion.

And in the Jewish society, priests were actually the public health officials.

If you had an illness, they were the ones you went to for treatment.

The Levites themselves also were responsible for distributing alms to the poor.

And yet, we find here that neither of these two individuals decide to help the helpless man on the road.

And you know, if this fills you with indignation and disgust because of their lack of compassion

and maybe religious hypocrisy, then Jesus has actually caught you in his trap.

And you are convicting yourself.

Because the priest and the Levite, they had just as many rational reasons

to pass by this half-dead man as we do when we pass by all our neighbors.

Like, how would you really have responded in this situation?

If you were anxiously taking a shortcut through a dark alley,

you came across a groaning, bleeding man indicating violent thugs probably around the next corner,

what would you counsel your wife to do?

What would you counsel your children to do?

Truly, the wisest thing is to hurry on to safety.

That's the reality for this priest and this Levite.

They've stumbled upon a man with massive needs, massive needs too great for them to handle,

the physical needs of his bloody wounds and his nakedness,

practical needs for transportation and shelter,

social needs for a companion and caretaker,

emotional needs from his shame and trauma, financial needs.

He's penniless.

He's going to have medical bills, spiritual needs even,

as someone who might soon depart from this life to the next.

Maybe the priest and the Levites thought to themselves,

man, I want to help.

I have a good heart, but I don't even know where to start.

I don't think I have what it takes,

or it costs me too much, more than I could afford.

I don't have the finances or the skills or the time or the margin.

Imagine I've got my own story, my own agenda to tend to,

and I'm not sure I have time to be a part of this man's story.

Maybe the priest and the Levite had just gotten off their shifts, right,

at the temple from Jerusalem down to Jericho,

looking forward to getting back to their families,

just trying to make it home to them without any trouble,

not looking to enter anyone else's mess.

And like, what if they did try to help and this man died?

Then they would be ceremonially unclean,

and that would have implications for the time they spent with their family

and also for their jobs and their duties in the temple.

Was it really worth the risk to help this man?

Shouldn't they preserve themselves for their family's sake

and for the temple's sake?

And really, what did they have to gain?

No one else was around to see them be a hero,

and also no one was around to see them neglect this man either.

Might as well just pass by, right?

Might as well just pass by.

We must not downplay the exorbitant cost and risk

of helping this half-dead man

and how sensible it was for the priest and the Levite to pass him by.

We do this all the time ourselves.

And look, Jesus himself,

Jesus doesn't even condemn these two men,

the priest and the Levite.

He doesn't make them out to be bad guys in the story.

They're just normal.

They're you and they're me.

But the question is, is that all that God wants us to be?

The German theologian Dorothy Soule wrote,

in Jesus' story, there are thieves and victims,

specters and helpers,

and Jesus intended this story for the people of the spectator

or passerby type.

And isn't that us?

The passerby types.

This story is for us.

It's meant to challenge us to be more than passersby.

Living like the priest and the Levite might be the normal,

might be the reasonable,

might be the socially acceptable way to live,

but Jesus always offers,

he offers us always a higher, better, more beautiful way to live.

And this better way starts with how we see people.

How do we see people?

Look again at verses 30 and 31.

It says the priest and the Levite saw the man,

but still passed by.

And what Jesus is pointing out here is that,

sure, they both see him,

but do they really see him?

They don't see him with the compassionate eyes of God,

and they can't seem to see,

or maybe they just refuse to see,

the image of God in this man.

They see him,

and yet they see him as someone

who they can and maybe even should pass by.

They see him as not worth their time,

attention, and assistance.

And this is a word for us.

It's a point of application.

Do we see our neighbors?

Do we see our neighbors?

Do we see the people around us,

the people on our paths,

and do we see them with the eyes of God?

Do we see the image of God all around us?

You know, my dad,

he's one of the most consistent

and principled men that I know.

And you know,

he's particularly committed to friendliness,

deference, and selfless service, all right?

So if you go for a walk with him,

like at Lake Chabot,

you might try to have a conversation with him,

but he's always interrupting the conversation,

looking up at people,

making eye contact with them,

and saying,

hey, good morning, good morning, right?

It's super annoying, actually.

And what's even more annoying is

I went on a trip with him one time.

We were in Manhattan, all right?

I had places to go.

I had things I wanted to see.

I'm zigging and zagging my way

through the crowd, right?

Just like everyone else is.

These people aren't people to me.

They're obstacles to be navigated, all right?

But like every few steps,

oh, excuse me.

Oh, pardon me.

Oh, you first.

Holding the door open for like 30 people

who don't even recognize

the man is holding the door for them, right?

That's my dad.

Super annoying to be his traveling partner.

But at the same time,

if I reinterpret my dad's actions

in the best possible light,

man, what he was really doing

was trying to be a consistent human being,

humanizing other human beings,

acknowledging the dignity and the worth

and the image of God

in every stranger he encountered,

even in New York City, right?

This place that, yeah,

we might think of as crowded and congested,

but at the same time,

a place that's covered

with so much image of God

per square foot, right?

What if we saw the world like that,

as covered with the image of God,

people and opportunities

to share the love of God with?

So again,

do we have eyes to see God's image

in others?

Or do we permit ourselves

to pass by

by seeing people as less than

what they're worth

in the eyes of God?

Think of all the people

you pass every day

on BART,

on your commutes,

all the people we pass by

without recognizing

the image of God in them.

And then maybe you think

I'm talking about

that homeless person

you drive past every day.

And yes,

I am talking about them,

but man,

I'm thinking some of us

are passing our spouses by

and our children

and our coworkers

and our fellow church members

and our next door neighbors.

Maybe we don't even know their names.

When Jesus said

to love our neighbors,

he meant more than just

our immediate neighbors,

but certainly not less.

G.K. Chesterton said,

we make our friends,

we make our enemies,

but God makes

our next door neighbor.

God is constantly

putting neighbors

into our path.

The question is,

will we see them?

Do we see them?

Loving starts with seeing them

and seeing them

with compassion.

And that was the difference

between the priest

and the Levite

and the Samaritan.

They all saw

the half-dead man,

but what does verse 33 say?

But a Samaritan,

as he traveled,

came where the man was,

and when he saw him,

he took pity.

In the Greek,

you could translate this.

He was filled

with compassion for him.

In the Greek,

splagitsomai,

all right?

He saw this man

and his insides churned

and his heart broke

and his guts ached.

It's the same word

that Jesus felt

when he saw the widow

who lost her son.

It's the same word

that the father felt

for his prodigal.

And listen,

this Samaritan's compassion

likely shocked

Jesus' original hearers

because the Jewish

and the Samaritan people,

they hated

and terrorized each other.

To the Jewish folks,

Samaritans were heretics

and half-breeds

who intermingled

with the pagans.

And to the Samaritans,

the Jewish people

were self-righteous

Jewish supremacists

who looked down

upon the Samaritans.

And if the tables

were turned,

a Jewish person

coming across

a half-dead Samaritan

might take the opportunity

to make him

a fully dead Samaritan.

And so one would have

expected the same

from this Samaritan

toward this half-dead man

lying in the road.

But the Samaritan here,

facing the same risks,

facing the same costs

as the priest

and the Levite,

and yet with even more

racial and cultural reasons

to not care,

the Samaritan shows

radical, unexpected,

and undeserved compassion

instead.

Look at verses 34 and 35.

It says,

he went to him.

He offered friendship

and advocacy

to this half-dead

Jewish stranger.

He risked his own safety,

gave physical protection,

gave up his schedule,

canceled his plans.

He bandaged his wounds,

pouring on oil and wine,

becoming dirty and bloody

by personally administering

medical treatment

to this person

who surely would have

considered him as unclean

just because of his race.

Then he put the man

on his own donkey,

which meant that he probably

had to walk

the rest of the way.

He made his resources

available.

He provided transportation

for this guy

and found shelter.

He brought him

to an inn

and he took care of him there,

spent a whole night

nursing this guy

and then financially,

he took out two denarii

and gave them

to the innkeeper.

He offered two days

worth of wages

for a few weeks' rent,

right?

He offered open-ended

generosity

in a situation

in which the chance

of extortion

was high, right,

from the innkeeper,

but he still said,

I will pay you

for any expense

he incurs.

And on top of all this,

he makes a follow-up plan.

He promises to return

and reimburse the extra expenses

to come back and visit

and he takes financial

responsibility

for this victim

without any arrangements

for repayment.

Now,

have any of us

loved anyone,

even our own beloved family

and friends,

not even mentioning

our enemies?

Have any of us

loved anyone

in the world

like this?

Jesus here

is saying that

this extravagant,

radical,

sacrificial love

is what God

not just suggests

but demands of us

when he tells us

to love our neighbors

as ourselves.

It's not a suggestion,

it's the law

of the Lord.

You know,

we often think

of the Good Samaritan

parable

as a lesson

on charity

and mercy

but it's actually

just as much

if not more

a lesson on justice.

Biblical justice.

See,

in the Bible,

the word for justice

doesn't simply mean

punishing those

who do wrong,

it means treating people

equitably.

It means honoring

the image of God

in other people

and giving people

what they are due.

Over and over again

in Moses' law,

it spoke of

caring for widows

and orphans

and immigrants

and the poor

not as a ministry

of mercy

but as a society's

responsibility

for upholding

justice.

Compassion

and loving

our neighbors

as ourselves

isn't just a matter

of charity

and generosity,

it's a matter

of justice.

And so let's be real,

we all fall short,

don't we?

This is why we confess

our failure

to love our neighbors

here every single week

in that liturgical moment,

the confession of sin,

because none of us,

none of us

has lived up

to this demand.

We are neither merciful

nor just

in the eyes of God.

And if we

take Jesus' words

to this law expert

seriously,

we know that

he couldn't justify himself

and neither can we.

We are guilty,

guilty, guilty

before this law of love

that God demands.

Even with respect

to the people

in our lives

that should be easiest

to love,

we have all severely

missed the mark.

And none of us

has done anywhere close

to what it takes

to inherit eternal life

in God's new creation.

Instead,

we've lived

according to the ethic

of a broken

and fallen creation

instead.

So where does that

leave us?

Well, it leaves us

at the mercy of God.

It leaves us

at the mercy of God.

And see,

that's what distinguishes

!

Christianity

from every other religion.

Christianity isn't unique

in telling us to love,

to care for the need,

to be good Samaritans,

to be kind,

loving,

compassionate,

and hospitable

to the poor.

Virtually every religion

teaches this.

And it either says,

oh, just try

and do your best,

like,

it's not that big a deal,

the standard's not that high,

or it says,

do this or else, right?

And absolutely crushes us

under the weight

of its guilt

and shame

for our failure

to love like this.

But what I want to suggest

is that only Christianity

offers the motor

that can actually

sustain and inspire

the kind of heartfelt,

radical compassion

that the law demands.

And that motor

isn't guilt and threats,

we'll never be guilted

or threatened

into loving our neighbors.

It's not hyper-vigilance,

discipline,

and hard work.

We are far too weak

and wicked to pull that off.

No, the motor

that Christianity provides

for us to love

as God demands

is the gospel.

It's the gospel.

I want you to notice here

how Jesus ends his discussion

with the law expert

in verse 36.

Which of these three

do you think

was a neighbor

to the man

who fell into the hands

of robbers?

The expert in the law

replied,

the one who had mercy

on him.

Jesus told him,

go and do likewise.

Now remember,

carefully,

think carefully,

and I remember

the original question

from the expert

was,

who is my neighbor?

Who do I have to love

and who do I have

to be responsible for?

But look,

Jesus doesn't ask

the same thing.

He doesn't ask,

who is the Samaritan's neighbor?

Who did the Samaritan

have to care for?

No, he flips the roles

and asks,

who was a neighbor

to the half-dead man?

The law expert

was asking,

who do I have to help

in order to have

eternal life?

But Jesus asked,

who would you want help

from in your time

of life-threatening need?

He puts him

in the place

of the man on the road.

You see,

most of us,

if we were trying

to make a parable,

trying to teach people

to love their enemy neighbors,

their Samaritan neighbors,

we'd probably say,

once upon a time,

a Jewish man

found a Samaritan

lying half-dead

on the road

and he cared for him.

Isn't that nice,

Mr. Law expert?

Go and do likewise.

The needy Samaritan

is your neighbor.

But honestly,

that'd just be

a moralistic story

that wouldn't have done

a thing

to this law expert's

self-righteous heart.

Jesus knows this.

He knows that

in the law expert's mind,

he is the hero

in his own story.

And he's trying to figure out

how much of a hero

he needs to be,

what heroic deed

he needs to do

to check the boxes

for eternal life

and be his own hero

to justify himself.

But by making

the Samaritan the hero,

when Jesus makes

the Samaritan the hero,

by making the Jewish man

the one close to death

and in need

of a neighbor,

Jesus is pointing us

to the only thing

that will actually

transform selfish sinners

like us

into self-giving people

of love like him.

By making the Samaritan

the hero,

Jesus' primary message

isn't,

hey guys,

be nice,

be a good Samaritan,

okay?

No.

By making the Samaritan

the hero

and the Jewish person

the one in need,

Jesus' message

to the law expert

and to us

is that we are

the ones

in need

of a good Samaritan.

We have to understand

that first

if we are ever

going to be

good Samaritans

ourselves.

We are the ones

lying half dead,

naked,

helpless,

penniless,

completely at the mercy

of someone

whose compassion

we don't deserve

at all

and who actually

has every reason

to forsake us

and crush us

because we all

like sheep

have gone astray

down the wrong

and treacherous road

of violence

and mayhem

loving neither God

nor our neighbors

but only ourselves

and things that are

unworthy of our love.

But the gospel says

that in Jesus Christ

God still sent us

the neighbor

we needed,

the ultimate

good Samaritan.

God became man.

He became the neighbor

who came near

to our bloody mess

to pour out his life

and all his resources

unto death

on a cross

to pay for our healing

and our health

to save and resurrect

his undeserving people

even when we

were hostile

to him.

And this

is the gospel.

This is the gospel.

This is the motor

we need to love

as God

requires of us.

We cannot earn

eternal life

by loving super hard.

We cannot.

It's only when

we acknowledge

that Christ

is the ultimate

good Samaritan,

the neighbor

we always needed.

It's then

and only then

that we will ever

begin to live

this eternal life

of self-giving love

as branches

growing from the vine

that he is.

It's only when

we acknowledge

that we have

the ultimate Samaritan

who loved us

at his greatest expense

that we will be able

to obey

either of the two

greatest commandments

with the help

of the Holy Spirit.

We only love God

because he first loved us.

We only love our neighbors

because he first loved us

as our good Samaritan neighbor

and he's given us

his spirit

to follow in his footsteps.

Our focus shouldn't be

who is my neighbor

that I have to love

but how can I be a neighbor

to whomever

is in my path?

How can I be like Jesus?

If you've experienced

the transformational

neighbor love

of Christ

toward you

that is the next question

for you.

What holy habits

of generosity

and service

will you take up

in response

to the good Samaritan

who generously served you?

What new

and uncomfortable paths

might you intentionally walk

and come into closer proximity with

just as Jesus came near to you?

Would you consider

fostering a child?

Supporting a foster family?

I'd love to talk to you

about that.

There's a wonderful organization

Foster the City

in this area.

Did you know that

even if just half

of the 700 churches

in Alameda County

had one new foster family

all the rest

of the foster children

in Alameda County

would be taken in?

There's also

our Care Portal team

that collaborates

with local social workers

to help families in need

or families

that are at risk

of their kids

being sent

into the foster system.

Join our Care Portal team.

Or would you

consider tutoring a child?

The pandemic

massively wrecked

the reading aptitude

of the children

of Oakland.

Harbor House

and Children Rising

are wonderful places

that you might volunteer

two hours every week

to help a child

learn to read

and build those skills.

Maybe your next step

is simply supporting

your first,

your second,

your third,

your fourth,

maybe your fifth

Compassion International Child.

We're a compassion church.

Or maybe it's volunteering

on March 15th

at Project Peace

East Bay Day of Service

or joining Abil

and Jesus,

our elders,

and feeding

and befriending

our homeless neighbors

in their loaves

and fishes ministry.

The next one's

on March 8th.

This is coming Saturday.

You'll learn more

about all of this

on our website

under Church Life

Serve With Us.

But what's our next step?

And this is a fitting season.

What a fitting season, right?

Ash Wednesday

is this Wednesday.

We hope that you'll

show up to that.

The beginning of Lent

is upon us.

And listen,

it's not merely

a season for self-denial

and individualistic

self-improvement.

The season of Lent

is just as much

a season for service

and giving.

So let's do it.

Jesus said,

go and do likewise.

Let's do it,

Christ Church.

Let's be truly

for the city

as we say every week.

And let's go

in the name of Jesus

to love and serve

this world.

Amen?

Will you pray with me?

Lord, show us

in Jesus Christ

that we have

not just the good Samaritan,

but the best one,

the ultimate one.

And help us

to go and do likewise

out of admiration

and gratitude

and compassion

for this world.

In your name we pray.

Amen.

Amen.