"No Simple Task" - Luke 10:25-37 - July 11, 2004

A man fell into a pit and couldn't get himself out. A subjective person came along and said, "I feel for you down there." An objective person came along and said, "It's logical that someone would fall down there." A Pharisee said, "Only bad people fall into a pit." A mathematician calculated how he fell into the pit. A news reporter wanted an exclusive story on his pit. A fundamentalist said, "You deserve your pit." An IRS man asked if he was paying taxes on the pit. A self-pitying person said, "You haven't seen anything until you've seen my pit." A charismatic said, "Just confess that you're not in a pit." An optimist said, "Things could be worse." A pessimist said, "Things will get worse." Jesus, seeing the man, took him by the hand and lifted him out of the pit! (from Barbara Johnson, Ecunet, Homiletics, July - September 1995)

Just about everyone is familiar with the story of the "Good Samaritan." It was told by Jesus in response to the lawyer’s question concerning what a person must do to inherit eternal life. He, like everyone, knew the answer but wanted Jesus to qualify the meaning of "neighbor."

After Jesus told the story of the Good Samaritan he asked the lawyer which man in the story was the neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers. The lawyer responded by saying, "The one who showed him mercy." He got it right. He passed the test.

It’s no secret that Jesus expands our understanding of what a neighbor is. Obviously we are to extend our compassion beyond familiar territory. We are to care for others regardless of their nationality, religion or race. Jesus is always encouraging us to break with the norm and reach out to strangers and people who are different from us. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to understand that Jesus wants us to be inclusive.

I believe the story of the Good Samaritan challenges more than just our acceptance of people who are different. What the story does is challenge us to do something about it. Inheriting eternal life is directly connected to what we do with our life. "Go and do likewise," Jesus said. This is no simple task. There is a tremendous difference in knowing what to do and actually doing it.

One day last week I was doing my routine workout at the "Y." As I was leaving the fitness room there was a young girl peering through the window. "Are you looking for your mom? I asked. "No," she said, "I’m watching my dad." I then proceeded to the basketball court and the young girl followed me. Both of us grabbed a basketball. I began shooting baskets and she began to talk. She told me all about her family. She told me where she went to school and that she was almost nine years old. With a smile she said she had received one present early. Her two older sisters were still in bed and her brother, she said, was mean to her.

She asked me my name and I told her who I was and what I did. "What’s a minister?’ she said. I was amazed that a nine year old didn’t know what a minister was. But then I explained and she seemed to understand. I continued to shoot baskets and she continued to talk. Finally, it was time for me to leave and head for the showers.

That encounter reminded me of this story. I wonder how often we miss an opportunity to listen to another human being because we are preoccupied with our own agendas or too busy to take the time. Here was a young, bright, little girl who desperately needed a grown up to talk with. For whatever reason, I was chosen. When the Samaritan reached out to the man who was robbed he went out of his way. He interrupted his own schedule to attend to another man’s problems. To go and do likewise means there will be people along our life’s journey who need our attention. We can pass by, like the priest and the Levite, or we can take the time to stop, like the Samaritan did.

However, the Samaritan did more than just give some of his time. He also gave some financial assistance to the innkeeper to take care of him for a few days. He not only gave his time, he sacrificed some of his own money to help the man recover.

One time there was a man who drove a cab for a living. He tells this particular story about a customer. "When I arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away. But, I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door.

This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself. So I walked to the door and knocked. ‘Just a minute,’ answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

‘Would you carry my bag out to the car?’ she said. I took the suitcase to the cab,
then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness. ‘It's nothing,’ I told her. ‘I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated.’ ‘Oh, you're such a good boy,’ she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, ‘Could you drive through downtown?’ ‘It's not the shortest way,’ I answered. ‘Oh, I don't mind,’ she said. ‘I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice.’

I looked in the rearview mirror. Her eyes were glistening. ‘I don't have any family left,’ she continued. ‘The doctor says I don't have very long.’ I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. ‘What route would you like me to take?’ I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and she would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, ‘I'm tired. Let's go now.’ We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

‘How much do I owe you?’ she asked, reaching into her purse. ‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘You have to make a living,’ she answered. ‘There are other passengers,’ I responded. Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly. ‘You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’ I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life. I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk.

What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end of his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away? On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life. We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware, beautifully wrapped in what
others may consider a small one."

The cab driver did more than just make a sacrifice. For a few hours he entered into the life of another human being. Voiding her fare was a true gift but nothing like the one he had received by engaging a total stranger and accompanying her on what may have been her last ride through the city. He was helping her to bring her life to a close, and at the same time helping her celebrate some significant memories of her life.

Being a Good Samaritan is not just doing good deeds. It means to enter into a stranger’s life and walk with them in their journey. The priest and Levite were so focused on their own journey they missed out on the joy of sharing the journey with another human being. Sadly, their lives will be filled with their chores, their errands and their careers. What they missed is life.

Dr. Keith Wagner, St. Paul’s United Church of Christ, Sidney, Ohio