I’m going to ask you to do something a little different soon if that’s ok: close your eyes. Normally when pastors see people do that during a sermon, well, it usually isn’t good. Occasionally it leads to bits of drool coming out the side of your mouth. And then sometimes snoring.

So if you hear the neighbor next to you snoring – and no worries, it happens – could you give them a light elbow?

If they get upset just tell them Pastor made you do it 😉

Keeping your neighbor awake in church saves us from those awkward moments when, after service, a sleeping parishioner wakes up, walks up, shakes my hand, and says “good sermon.”

Which gives me the challenge of donning my best deadpan poker face to reply “thanks.”

So thank you in advance for those elbow nudges if necessary.

Ok, now for something completely different – a guided meditation. There will be a few spots coming up with brief, intentional silence. That is your chance to ponder; an opportunity to come up with your own story. It might seem odd at first, that’s ok. Just humor me if you would.

Guided Meditation
Find a comfortable position. And yes, I realize many of you are sitting in pews. Uncross your arms and legs. Put both feet on the floor. If you’d like to join in go ahead and close your eyes. And if not that’s ok too. All this is entirely optional. You can stop the exercise any time you like.

First I want you to picture your favorite place. Some people may call it their happy place. Think about the feelings and emotions you experience while in that place. (pause 5 seconds).

Now we’re going to shift a little. Leaving that happy place, I want you to think about a recent time that got you angry. So angry that you were furious. It could have been from something that you read or saw on the news, or on social media. Or it might be something someone said to you, or even an argument that you had.

What about this moment made you upset? What do you notice about your feelings and emotions? Did this time of anger evoke different feelings and emotions than when you are in your happy place? (pause 15 seconds).

Next think about the group or person involved in the conflict. What are their politics? What religious beliefs do they have? What type of job do they hold? Or do they have no job at all? What values do they hold dear? Try to recall as much detail about the person or group as you can. (pause 15 seconds.)

File away the mental image of the person you’re angry at, and the details about them for now. We’ll come back to that a bit later.

Take a deep breath in. And then breathe out. Open your eyes.

Neighbors
Our text today is arguably the most well-known passage in the New Testament. It begins with a lawyer, testing Jesus. “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” The lawyer wants to know. Jesus points him back to the Torah, and the lawyer quotes from it.

• Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, strength and mind, and
• Love your neighbor as yourself

It is the greatest commandment, in two parts.

You likely know it well.
It challenges me.
Likely it challenges you.

Upon hearing the lawyer, Jesus responded, that’s right! Do this and you will live.

If this were the end of the story that would be that.

Two people talking,
A question asked,
A question answered,
Agreement on response.
Done, clap.

Nothing to see here. Time to move along.

It is a story with Jesus in it, being challenged with a question of great importance – where’s the –

Drama,
Conflict,
Challenge,
Surprise?

No worries – it’s coming.

The lawyer, being true to his vocation, couldn’t help but ask a follow-up question:

And who is my neighbor?

Because if you’re asking about eternal life, and believe there’s a particular way to achieve it, getting clarity on that makes really good sense.

Jesus replies, as he so often does, with a story.

Once upon a time a man was walking from Jerusalem to Jericho. Out of nowhere a gang appears and attacks. The man was beaten, stripped, robbed, left for dead. As Martin Luther King Jr. notes the ancient road is steep. Even worse the road winds back and forth; there are blind turns everywhere. In other words this is a prime place to get jumped.

Fortunately for this man some good news. Others also walk down the road. Will one of them stop to help?

Act One
First a priest approaches and sees the man. That’s got to lead to a happy ending, right? We clergy are supposed to help others. It’s kind of what we’re called to do. But this priest? He crossed the road. He distances himself from the situation and keeps on walking. The priest washed his hands of any responsibility to step in.

This particular priest isn’t making my tribe look very good.

Tho, to be entirely honest, do I stop every time I see someone in need? Sometimes I do. Not always. This text is both humbling and a personal challenge to do more.

Act Two
Next a Levite approaches and sees the man. This man too crosses the road. He too distances himself from the injured man. He too washes his hands of any responsibility to help.

Let’s unpack what the Levite represents. Many interpreters assume the Levite is a lawyer. That is one of the roles this ancient tribe performs. Since a lawyer is the one questioning Jesus in this story it gives us the opportunity to say hey Mr. lawyer, even your tribe isn’t helping! Take that.

It gives us the chance to feel kind of self-righteous, doesn’t it?

With apologies to any present company that might share this vocation – it’s kind of fun to bag on lawyers. Ands this text gives us the chance to do just that. We can make them the brunt of one more joke. Like this one –

What did the lawyer name their daughter? Sue!

But wait. The ancient tribe of Levi does more than just lawyering. One of their primary roles is to lead temple worship. To put this in modern vernacular some Levites would be the Director of Worship. Michael Elsbernd, isn’t that kind of your title?

One of your kind didn’t help this injured man on the side of the road? One of your kind crossed the road to get away? Your people just kept walking? Your people didn’t stop to help?

Dude, this is kind of awkward…my priestly people didn’t do the right thing…your music people didn’t either…

Shouldn’t our kind be doing this stuff? We’re the hired help around here – it’s kind of our job, right?

I don’t know about you Michael, but this is a bit humbling. Does this mean our kind aren’t always perfect? Does that mean we’re not perfect? Whoa.

The story continues.

Act Three
A Samaritan approaches. His response to the injured man is decidedly different. The Samaritan came near the man, and sees him. Noticing the injuries he was moved with pity. The Samaritan went to the man, bandaged his wounds, poured oil on them. He then put the man on his own animal, took him to an inn, and cared for him.

The next day he pulled out his wallet, gave the innkeeper two days of wages – aka no small amount – and asked the innkeeper to care for the injured. The Samaritan committed to come back, and pay the innkeeper any other costs that might come up.

Said differently, the injured man was given –

Healthcare,
Transportation,
Housing.

Since the injured man was stripped I’d wager the Samaritan provided some clothing too.

It’s worth noting what scripture doesn’t specify. There are no checks to confirm the injured man’s religion, ethnicity, or national origin before providing help. No queries about whether the injured man had a job. Instead there was just healing action.

Samaritan
Let’s unpack what the Samaritan represents. The original audience listening to this story were largely Jewish Israelites. They were familiar with the twelve tribes, their laws, what their faith asks of them. In the story we expect –

the priest, and
the worship leader,
to help.

The original audience would also expect the next person in the narrative to be an Israelite. This is their social hierarchy at the time; the lens through which they see everything else.

So when Jesus introduces the third man walking down the road as a Samaritan they’d be surprised.

The Samaritan represents another faith tradition from another land. John chapter 4 mentions that Samaritans and Jews don’t associate with each other. Theologian Karoline Lewis suggests this is perhaps the greatest understatement in the Bible. Jews and Samaritans, culturally, did not share much of anything in common. They shared the same God, but couldn’t agree which mountain their God dwelled on. They shared the same religious texts, but couldn’t agree which parts matter most. And if they came in contact with each other? Both were to return to their own, separate temples, to be made ritually clean.

To make a modern comparison – and generalizations like this have their limitations – consider two Christian traditions: fundamentalist Baptists and Episcopalians. Both worship the same God. Both share the same religious texts. But which texts matter most? Should baptisms be for infants, or just teens and adults? When it comes to salvation does God come to us? Or do we go to God? Who gets into heaven, and how? Does hell even exist?

What of altar calls? Raising hands in church? How should faith inform our politics? Or should it at all?

Differences like this often drive people apart more than bring them together.

This is the kind of chasm that existed between Jews and Samaritans.
This is the kind of chasm that can exist, at times, between us, and others.

Neighbor
Story now complete, Jesus then turns and asks the lawyer a question. Which of these three – the priest, the musician, the Samaritan, was a neighbor to the injured man? The lawyer, without hesitation answered: the one who showed mercy. He had answered well. Go, Jesus, responds, and do likewise.

Christ’s conclusion is shocking.  The takeaway is clear.

Following Jesus is not about who you are.
Or even what you believe.

To be a Christ follower is a matter of what you do. For we are called to serve the other, regardless of their –

Religion,
Denomination,
Race,
Ethnicity,
National origin,
Politics,
Gender,
Sexual orientation, or
Creed.

Let’s be honest: this is really hard to do. Yet we are called to it all the same. All as we look to live into our identity here at St. John’s to be in the city for good.

Friend
Speaking personally, a few weeks ago a friend made me really, really angry. When we did that meditation exercise earlier this is who comes to mind. I had posted a photo of our sanctuary here during Pride month, it was a beautiful tapestry of bright, bold, inclusive rainbow colors. Before long there were likes and loves and glowing comments on the post from so many. We take great pride in our church and what, and who, we stand for. That is a beautiful thing.

But then a Facebook friend from high school, who I haven’t seen in three decades, chimed in. He posted anti-LGBTQ rhetoric on my photo, about the wages of sin, and where he believes fellow children of God are heading because of it. It was tone deaf, outdated theology, and hurtful. I was furious. I quickly deleted his comment from my wall. When he appeared again, and kept going, I removed him as a Facebook friend.

Because really, who needs that kind of drama? Self-care, and care of you all, matters more.

To be honest I could have responded to him differently, and with more grace. It is something I’ve been reflecting on a lot of late.

And yet, when faced with this passage from Luke 10, this man too, is my neighbor. Despite also being Christian, these days we have very, very little in common.

But that doesn’t matter. For my responsibility to him is the same.

Close
If you are open to it, close your eyes one more time. Remember the recent time that angered you. Recall the image of the person you are upset with. Reflect on their politics, their beliefs, the values they hold dear. Try to see them for who they are, without judgement.

Let us pray.

Lord, thank you for making each of us in your image. Thank you for blessing us with friends, family, community, country. When we feel angry release us. Help us to forgive.

When we encounter someone in need guide us to show mercy on them. Regardless of who they are, how they act, what they believe.

For bringing heaven to earth is your happy place. Being part of that important work brings joy and fulfillment for us too.

Help us love who you love. When we forget who our neighbor is remind us. Encourage us, to also go, and do likewise. Following you, every step of the way. Amen.

A homily based on the sending of the seventy.

It all began with one.

Descending from on high, amid so much noise, the origin story is simple. One Father, one Mother, one Son. Even then, on closer inspection, this particular narrative holds more.

The child grew as all do; first one –

Crawl,
Step,
Walk,
Run.

Their speech developed as you might expect; first one –

Sound,
Syllable
Word,
Phrase,
Sentence.

And before you know it the One was in the temple, having full conversations, amazing teachers with he had to say.

It wasn’t always easy going for the One. They were tempted, in the desert, but would not succumb. They were baptized, in the waters, cleansed for all to see. A dove descended. The heavens opened. One voice, filled with pride then did speak. This is my Son. The Beloved. With whom I am well pleased.

Now grown, tempted, blessed, a time of addition, for the One, had come.

Join me, He offered two by the sea. I will teach you to fish. Not in water but on land. They dropped their nets and went. The two soon became four. Then eight. Then twelve.

Day by day, step by step, their numbers grew. The twelve watched as storms were calmed, thousands were fed, illness was healed, water turned to wine. The One challenged empire. Questioned religion. The ways of the One were unlike anything the twelve had ever seen.

Now it’s your turn, he told them.  The time for you to lead has come.

Go –

Heal the sick.
Cure disease.
Proclaim the kingdom of God.

Pack light. Your needs will be met. The twelve departed, proclaimed, healed. Oh, there were setbacks. But the movement was starting to grow.

Spurred on by their success more leaders were readied. This time the One appointed seventy. It was now their turn to lead. Go, he told them, two by two. Prepare the way of the Lord.

The work would not be easy. For the harvest is plentiful. But the workers few. Fear not, he told them. Ask for help from above.

Your task is simple.

Share peace.
Break bread.
Drink, together.

And when you encounter sickness? Heal. Then say this: The kingdom of God is near. What is this kingdom? they might ask. It is in the peace, the bread, the cup. It is in the touch that heals.  For when you do this, I am with you, said the One.

Some will welcome you. Great! Others will not. That’s ok too. Just move along. Wipe the dust from your feet. And then get back to that which you’ve been called to do.

The seventy went, doing all that was said. When they returned joy filled the air. We used your name! The darkness disappeared! It was replaced with light, life, love! The seventy were ecstatic.

Seventy. Per Genesis, the number of nations in the world. Making clear that the light, light, love this kingdom represents is to be for all.

That this text falls in the season of Pentecost is perhaps no surprise. It is a season of growth; the color is green.

I have to confess, the part where Jesus says the harvest is plenty, the workers few always gives me pause. Lots of work and not many people to do it? That doesn’t exactly seem like a recipe for success.

Yet Jesus doesn’t seem too worried about it. Where we see scarcity he sees abundance.
Fortunately, our task is simple.

Go, sharing –

Peace,
Bread.
Drink.

Heal those in need.

For it all began with One.
The movement grows still.
Continuing onward –
one, by one, by one.  Amen.