A few months ago, late in the evening I was standing about eighth in line at the Monte Thriftway checkout. You know how that is: long line, single checker. Things were a little jammed up because an older woman at the front of the line was having difficulty with her payment card. She was trying to buy a single loaf of white bread. After a few minutes, I handed the grocery clerk a few dollars and the transaction was completed. Everyone went on their way.
A couple of things bothered me that night. And they stay with me. First, I was the only person in line out of eight that did anything to help (and the store didn’t either). But what bothers me most is that I didn’t do more. What I should have done is sent her back into the store to get other things that she probably needed, and I’d just add them to my cart. I certainly could have afforded it. I should have done it but I didn’t. Perhaps it would have embarrassed her and she would have turned it down. But I should have offered. And it haunts me that, when situations like that happen, being a good Christian doesn’t enter my mind until later.
The parable of the Good Samaritan in today’s Gospel from Luke 10 is straight forward. We all know it. It has inspired paintings, sculpture, poetry, film, and many other art forms. The term Good Samaritan is part of our daily lexicon. It’s even written into our law: if you try in good faith to help someone, and your efforts instead make things worse, you are absolved from fault for making the attempt.
So why is being a Good Samaritan so hard?
I of course notice that Luke tells this story through an interaction Jesus has with a lawyer. Guess I can’t help myself. The lawyer tests Jesus about the law and about how God would have us live. Jesus asks the lawyer what the law says, and the lawyer knows the answer: “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.” And Jesus, in one of the rare occasions that he answers directly, tells the lawyer that he is correct. So the lawyer takes the point further, and asks Jesus about who your neighbor is, and the parable ensues. At the end of the parable, the lawyer says the “neighbor” to the fallen individual was the one that showed him mercy. Again, Jesus directly tells him he is correct, and to go and do likewise.
The character of the lawyer in the parable, like most religiously observing Jews at the time, was a decent man. He wanted to do what is decent in God’s eyes. Over the course of time, our religious traditions have tried to help people how to be obedient by giving guidance on how to interpret the laws of God. Somewhere along the way whether to be helpful depended on whether the person was a “neighbor:” a friend, a member of the same religious group, a member of the same culture. The very parable itself notes the distinctions between the priests and the Samaritan, and that distinction is part of the story.
There is certainly no uncertainty about the point Jesus conveys in this context: there can be no distinctions. There can be no divisions. No loopholes. Everyone is a neighbor. And everyone should receive our mercy. It’s about the most direct thing Jesus ever tells us.
Roaming around the web looking for an interesting take on the Gospel, I got lost in debate after debate about whether prosecutors can be Christians and, alternatively, whether Christians can be prosecutors. The Reddit debate was certainly lively, like most online “debates” these days.
The debate was of particular interest to me because I recently changed my focus at work. For the first time in my career, I am practicing criminal law as a prosecutor. Judging people for their actions, sending them to jail. All that. I am doing it because the criminal division needed someone with courtroom experience on rather short notice, and I needed a new challenge. I’ve enjoyed it so far. And if I pursue the top job some day, I will have a breadth of experience to draw on.
How this change in my work pairs with my faith has been an interesting puzzle for me. I am paid to stand in judgment of other people, and I am paid to seek punishment when warranted. But above all else, I am paid to use my brain, and to do what is right – that notion of “justice” – above all else. And my view of justice can be – and should be – shaped by my faith and beliefs as a Christian. At the end of the analysis, there really isn’t a conflict between being a prosecutor and being a Christian at all.
I am currently reading Reforming Criminal Justice – A Christian Proposal. It is written by Matthew T. Martens, a prominent criminal lawyer for over twentyfive years who also holds a master’s degree in biblical studies from Dallas Theological Seminary. He claims to have graduated number one in his class at North Carolina law school, and first in his class in seminary. Apparently, boastfulness isn’t among the sins he considers important.
Mr. Martens’ basic idea revolves around the Good Samaritan parable and how it should guide the legal profession. Martens argues that the Good Samaritan parable displays for us the power that Christianity brings to bear on social problems. That power is neighborly love – a love for others inspired by and born of Christ’s transforming love for us. That love is the firm foundation for a truly just response to crime. In his view, a just legal system must be one designed to love our neighbors, both the victim and the accused, by seeking their good. And, to him, scripture provides the guide for the structure of the legal system in order to provide what is just. In my work, then, my job is to use the tools faith has given me case by case, every day. And if I rely on those tools, I will successfully administer justice. Which makes me ask, if I can barely pay for a person’s loaf of bread in the grocery store, how can I accomplish those things? But I WILL try.
So that is what a Good Samaritan may mean for me as a professional. But what does it mean for us at St. Mark’s? In a world full of need, seemingly more and more need every day, we should think together about how we address the needs of others as a church. Who is our neighbor? Who needs someone to be compassionate towards them? Who needs help? Who needs healing? Who needs support, both in the short term and the long term. May the compassion that Jesus teaches lead us along our way.
Being a Good Samaritan is a calling we will spend our whole lives trying to sort out. Even in line at the grocery store.
Amen.