Sunday's Message: The Parables in the Gospel of Luke - The Good Samaritan (Luke 10:30-37)

During the months of October and November, we'll discuss the following parables unique to the Gospel of Luke:

• October 16 – The Good Samaritan (Luke 10:30-37)
• October 23 – Lost Son (Luke 15:11-32)
• October 30 – Unrighteous Manager (Luke 16:1-9)
• November 6 – Rich Man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19-31)
• November 13 – Pharisee and the Tax Collector (Luke 18:9-14)

In our first service, we looked at the Parable of the Good Samaritan. Below is the sermon and a recording of the sermon:

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Well, this morning we’re starting a new series of sermons, one that’s focused on those parables of Jesus that are unique to the Gospel of Luke. Now, having said that, I think it’s important to understand a couple things from the get go. I mean, first, the word “parable” is actually based on a Greek word that literally means “riddle.” In other words, a parable is a story with a meaning that’s not obvious, you know, that you have to sort of figure out. And I guess that explains why, when the disciples asked Jesus why he taught with parables, 

Jesus answered:

I have explained the secrets about the kingdom of heaven to you, but not to others. Everyone who has something will be given more. But people who don’t have anything will lose even what little they have. I use stories when I speak to them because when they look, they cannot see, and when they listen, they cannot hear or understand. [Matthew 13:11-13, CEV]

Parables are like riddles, and that’s one thing that I believe is important for us to know. And second, not all the parables are found in all the gospels. You see, outside of John, which really doesn’t have any parables at all, some appear in Matthew, Mark and Luke, while others are only in one or two of the gospels. Now that’s just the way it is. And over the next month or so, we’ll be looking at five parables that appear only in the Gospel of Luke. And you know, it’s interesting, not only are these probably the best known, I think they’re also some of the most elaborate and complex riddles Jesus told. Now that’s going to be our focus until we get to the Sunday right before the beginning of Advent.

And to sort of kick the series off, this morning, we’re going to look at maybe the most famous of them all, and I’m talking about the Parable of the Good Samaritan, a story that Jesus put right in the middle of a conversation he was having with a teacher of the law; therefore, I think I’m safe in saying that the parable itself is related to what was said before and after. And that’s sort of how we’re going to approach it. You see, we’re going to break the whole passage into three parts, with the first dealing with the context, you know, what was going on before Jesus told the story, and then the second, the parable itself, and then the third, the point Jesus was trying to make. 

And to do that, instead of using one of the translations I’ve used before, you know, like the Contemporary English Version or the New Revised Standard, I’m going to use one that y’all may not have encountered before. You see, back in the late ‘60s, a Baptist minister named Clarence Jordan wrote a version of the New Testament that he wanted to be meaningful to the folks living in his native state of Georgia. And to do that, not only did he write in a more rural southern style, he changed some of the locations from Palestine to Georgia and some of the offices from the first century to the twentieth century. For example, instead of Jesus being crucified in Jerusalem, he was lynched in Atlanta. Rome was Washington, D.C. and Pilate was the governor of Georgia. Now that’s what he did. And he called his paraphrase the Cotton Patch Version. 

And like I said, that’s what I’m going to use this morning, and I’ll tell you why. It just seems to me that this particular parable is so familiar, my gosh, it was even the basis for the last episode of Seinfeld, I mean, we know it so well that I think it might be helpful to approach it from a slightly different angle. And if you like it, that’s great. But if you don’t, don’t worry; we won’t be doing it next week anyway. 

And so, let’s dig into the passage itself, starting with the context. Now, this was how Clarence Jordan sort of shaped the story and bear with me. If my natural southern drawl gets a little more pronounced as I read it; please cut me some slack. 

One day a teacher of an adult Bible class got up and tested him with this question: “Doctor, what does one do to be saved?”

Jesus replied, “What does the Bible say? How do you interpret it?”

The teacher answered, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your physical strength and with all your mind; and love your neighbor as yourself.”

“That is correct,” answered Jesus. “Make a habit of this and you’ll be saved.”

But the Sunday school teacher, trying to save face, asked, “But er. . . but. . . just who is my neighbor?” [Luke 10:25-29, The Cotton Patch Version]

Now that’s what it says. 

And I’ve got to tell you, as I read it, I can sort of identify with the guy who initiated the conversation. Now I know he was trying to test Jesus and that ain’t good, but give me a break, not only was he “a teacher of an adult Bible class” and we all know how good those folks are, he’s also concerned about salvation and man, he really knew his Bible. Good night nurse, he knew that the Bible said that you should “love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your physical strength and with all your mind; and love your neighbor as yourself.” And what’s more, Jesus acknowledged that he was right. And I’ll tell you, I even think his question was on point. I mean, if he was supposed to be in the habit of loving his neighbor as he loved himself, then it makes a lot of sense to know exactly who his neighbor actually was, right? I mean, how can he love his neighbor if he doesn’t know who his neighbor is? 

As a matter of fact, I think it’s the same kind of question that the folks who first read the Cotton Patch asked and that we probably ask ourselves today. Exactly who is our neighbor? Is it just the guy across the street or does it include people on the other side of the world? Is it everybody or just somebody? And if it is everybody, are some folk more our neighbors than others; therefore, they should get our love first? For example, are Christians more our neighbors than non-Christians? Are Americans more than foreigners? And what about illegal immigrants and refugees, folks that have a life-style we don’t like or follow a religion that we don’t understand; are these folks neighbor enough for us to love them as much as we love ourselves, or is it OK to love them a little bit less than our real neighbors? I mean, good night nurse, unless we’re all going to put on cardigan sweaters and ask everyone to be our neighbor, we’ve got to know the exact same thing that the Bible teacher wanted to know: “just who is my neighbor?” You see, that’s the context for the parable.

Because right after he asked the question, this is what happened:

Then Jesus laid into him and said, “A man was going from Atlanta to Albany and some gangsters held him up. When they had robbed him of his wallet and brand-new suit, they beat him up and drove off in his car, leaving him unconscious on the shoulder of the highway.

“Now it just so happened that a white preacher was going down that same highway. When he saw the fellow, he stepped on the gas and went scooting by. His homiletical mind probably made the following outline: 1. I do not know the man. 2. I do not wish to get involved in any court proceedings. 3. I don’t want to get blood on my new upholstering. 4. The man’s lack of proper clothing would embarrass me upon my arrival in town. 5. And finally, brethren, a minister must never be late for worship services.

“Shortly afterwards a white Gospel song leader came down the road, and when he saw what had happened, he too stepped on the gas. What his thoughts were we’ll never know, but as he whizzed past, he may have been whistling, ‘Brighten the corner, where you are.’

“Then a black man traveling that way came upon the fellow, and what he saw moved him to tears. He stopped and bound up his wounds as best he could, drew some water from his water-jug to wipe away the blood and then laid him on the back seat.  All the while his thoughts may have been along this line: ‘Somebody’s robbed you; yeah, I know about that, I been robbed, too. And they done beat you up bad; I know, I been beat up, too. And everybody just go right on by and leave you laying here hurting. Yeah, I know. They pass me by, too.’ He drove on into Albany and took him to the hospital and said to the nurse, ‘You all take good care of this white man I found on the highway. Here’s the only two dollars I got, but you all keep account of what he owes, and if he can’t pay it, I’ll settle up with you when I make a pay-day.’” [Luke 10:30-35, The Cotton Patch Version] 

Now that’s Clarence Jordan retelling this very familiar story, and outside a few changes to make it more relatable to rural Georgians in the late ‘60s, I don’t think there are any surprises here. I mean, the guy robbed was going from Atlanta to Albany,  Georgia instead of from Jerusalem to Jericho. And the characters were a white preacher, a white Gospel song leader and a black man instead of a priest, a Levite and a Samaritan. And the injured man was taken in a car to a hospital instead of on a donkey to an inn. Now those are some changes that Clarence Jordan made. And I’ll tell you, if we wanted to, we could do the same thing ourselves, you know, making the story a little more relatable to rural, northwestern Pennsylvania, in the year 2022. But when you get right down to it, those alterations, man, they didn’t really change the basic story, did they? I mean, it’s still about a guy who was severely injured by forces he couldn’t control. And while the preacher and song leader saw him lying there, they didn’t stop to help. I don’t know, maybe in their minds, the guy on the road did rise to the level of neighbor, first class, you know, like the folks at the church service they were about to lead. But that wasn’t the case with the black man, because, when he saw the exact same thing, he was moved to tears. And he stopped what he was doing. And he offered real, tangible help to a person he didn’t even know, a guy who, in Georgia during the late ‘60s, he wouldn’t have given him the time to day, if he hadn’t needed help. You see, it doesn’t really matter whether, in the story, he’s called a Samaritan or a black man or any other person who’s considered outside our neighborhood, that’s what the parable said he did.

And the point, the point of this story, the point of this riddle Jesus laid on the adult Bible teacher who simply wanted an answer to a very reasonable question: just who is my neighbor; well, listen to what happened:

“Now if you had been the man held up by the gangsters, which of these three—the white preacher, the white song leader, or the black man—would you consider to have been your neighbor?”

The teacher of the adult Bible class said, “Why, of course, the nig—I mean, er.. . well, er. . . the one who treated me kindly.”

Jesus said, “Well, then, you get going and start living like that!” [Luke 10:36-37, The Cotton Patch Version]

Now that’s what Jesus said.

And I’ve got to tell you, I think what he’s doing here is both profound and exciting. You see, instead of letting that the guy who asked the question, instead of letting him enter the story as the one of the three main characters, when Jesus asked, “Now if you had been the man held up by the gangsters, which of these three—the white preacher, the white song leader, or the black man—would you consider to have been your neighbor?” [Luke 10:36, The Cotton Patch Version], Jesus forced that adult Sunday school teacher to change his perspective and to identify with the one assaulted. I mean, it was as though the only way he could understand what it means to love his neighbor as himself, the only way he could understand what that meant was to crawl inside the skin of the one who really needed to be loved. That’s how he could know. It’s a little like that old joke, where a young man was out sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ with whoever would listen. And he went up to an old fellow and asked, “Brother, are you a Christian?” And the old guy just smiled and said, “Son, you’re asking the wrong guy. Ask the waitress over at the dinner or the guy who cuts my hair or maybe my wife. They’re in a much better position to tell you whether I’m a Christian or not.” 

You see, to the guy bleeding on the pavement, from his perspective, only one of the three acted like a neighbor. And that’s what set him apart. I mean, while all three saw what had happened, only one felt compassion. And while all three had good reasons to keep on trucking down the road, only one stopped. And while all three had the same opportunity to be a neighbor, you know, to help out someone they didn’t even know, only one showed real love, and I’m talking about the kind of love we would want to see ourselves if we’re in trouble. In other words, for him or for us to understand what it means to love our neighbor as ourselves, man, we’ve got to put ourselves in the position of the other guy, to feel his pain and to set aside our agendas and to roll up our sleeves and open both our hearts and our wallets so that we can offer the kind of help our neighbor desperately needs. I guess, when you get right down to it, the question, “who is our neighbor,” that’s a whole lot less important than the question, “how can we be a loving neighbor to others?” And you know, when we understand that it’s by showing kindness, by showing compassion, by showing love, man, that’s when we can expect Jesus to say to us, “Well, then, you get going and start living like that!” [Luke 10:37b, The Cotton Patch Version] Now I’ll tell you, I think that’s the point of the story.

And that, brother and sisters, is the parable of the Good Samaritan from the Cotton Patch. You see, when you get right down to it, it’s really a challenge to us, a challenge to look through the eyes of those who need help and to recognize that the neighbor is the one who feels compassion and who stops and who helps and then to start doing the same thing ourselves. And trust me, that would be true whether the hero of this story is a Samaritan or a black man or anyone else we might imagine. Heck, he might even be a Democrat or a Republican.