That we may grow beyond knowing, that we may grow beyond simply
knowing what God would have us do to actually doing it,
that we may grow beyond a simple goodness in thought to a dynamic
goodness of action—that’s the prayer offered up for us in today’s First
Lesson, from the Letter to the Colossians.
The author prays that the community of faith to which he’s writing
“may be filled with … all spiritual wisdom and understanding,” to the
end that they may then go on to enact “lives worthy of the Lord,
fully pleasing to [Christ] as [they] bear fruit in every good work.”
(Colossians 1:9–10)
Now, it was the early 17th-century philosopher René Descartes who
spoke that most famous of all philosophical maxims, “Cogito ergo
sum,” “I think”—that is, I pursue knowledge with my mind—“I think,
therefore I am.” (Discourse on Method, Part IV; 1637)
And it was the late 20th-century theologian and preacher William
Sloane Coffin who grew beyond Descartes when he said, “Amo ergo
sum,” “I love, therefore I am.” (Credo [Louisville:
Westminster John Knox, 2004], p. 1) You see, as Coffin observes, that
which demonstrates and validates existence is not “mere thinking,” but
is rather “love-filled action.”
Certainly that’s the point being made in today’s Second Lesson, from
Luke. There we find someone standing up to test Jesus—a lawyer whose
life is centered in his head, a man who’s much more invested in thinking
and debating than in doing. But by the end of the narrative, we find
Jesus directing this lawyer to grow beyond merely thinking about
loving his neighbor to actually doing it, to grow beyond resting
content with his goodness of thought to giving forth a goodness of
action.
Now, the lawyer is spoiling for a debate with Jesus. So to test him,
he asks, “Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” (Luke 10:25)—I
want to know what you think about that.
Now, Jesus readily discerns that this is a man who already knows
the answer to his own question, so Jesus turns the lawyer’s query back on
him by saying: Well, you’re a lawyer. “What’s written in the law[, in the
Torah]? What do you read there?” (vs. 26)
And the lawyer, feeling called upon to demonstrate his own intellect,
responds first by quoting from the book of Deuteronomy (6:5)—“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 then he continues by
citing the book of Leviticus (19:18)—“You shall love your neighbor as
yourself.”
And Jesus replies, “You’ve given the right answer. Now, do
this—do this, and you will live.” (vs. 28) You see, Jesus
sidesteps intellectual debate and instead challenges the lawyer to grow
beyond simply knowing what to do, to actually doing it—to
putting the concepts of love for God and of love for neighbor into action
every day, in every way.
But this lawyer is not yet ready to set aside his preference for knowing
about goodness without committing himself to its practice. So again he tries
to coax Jesus into a debate, this time by posing to him the question: “And
who is my neighbor?” (vs. 29)—by which he’s asking, “Am I to define the term
‘neighbor’ narrowly (as in ‘just my family and those who’re very much like
me’), or am I to define the term ‘neighbor’ broadly (as in ‘any person at
all, be they friend or even foe’)”?
And in response to this query Jesus again sidesteps debate, this time
by telling a story—the one that we’ve come to call “The Parable of the Good
Samaritan.”
It’s important to note that in this particular parable Jesus describes
only the actions of his characters. He offers no explanations at all
for why any of them do the things they do. So through the very
structure of the parable itself, Jesus is saying to us: “It’s only what
these characters do that counts; it’s not at all what they know
or are thinking. So just pay attention to what is happening
in this parable, and don’t bother asking why it’s happening. Stay
focused on what the characters actually do, and don’t waste your
time trying to know more than that.”
Some robbers beat up a man who was traveling on a deserted road. (vs. 30)
They stripped him and left him half-dead. This they did! Now, you
may ask, who was this man, and who were these robbers, and why did any of
them do what they did? But Jesus simply doesn’t give us answers to questions
like these. For Jesus wants us to avoid falling into the same old mistake
the lawyer makes. Jesus wants us to grow beyond “desiring simply to know”—to
grow beyond that into “committing ourselves to love-filled action.” Jesus
wants us to steer clear of exercises that are merely intellectual and to
stay focused on actions—to stay focused in this parable on what the man and
the robbers actually do, and on nothing else. The man travels, and
the robbers assault him and leave him half-dead.
“Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw [the
man], he passed by on the other side.” (vs. 31) This he did! But,
you may ask, who was this priest, and why did he do what he did? Well,
Jesus doesn’t give us answers to these questions. For Jesus wants us to grow
beyond “desiring simply to know” into “committing ourselves to love-filled
action.” Jesus wants us in this parable to stay focused on what the priest
actually does, and on nothing else. He sees the man and passes by
on the other side.
“So likewise, a Levite[, another leader of the Jewish people,] when he
came to the place and saw [the man], [he, too,] passed by on the other side.
(vs. 32) This he did! And, you may ask, who was he, and why did he
do what he did? But Jesus simply doesn’t answer questions like these. For
Jesus doesn’t want us to repeat the lawyer’s mistake by “desiring simply to
know.” Jesus wants us to grow beyond that into “committing ourselves to
love-filled action.” So Jesus wants us in this parable to stay focused on
what the Levite actually does, and on nothing else. He sees the man
and passes by on the other side.
“But a Samaritan while traveling came near [the man]; and when he saw him,
he was moved with compassion.” (vs. 33) This he was! Now, why, you
may ask, was this despised foreigner traveling so far out of his own
territory, and why was he moved with compassion at the sight of an injured
Jew, and why did he stop? Well, Jesus simply doesn’t give us answers to such
questions. Jesus wants us to avoid falling into the same old mistake the
lawyer makes. Jesus wants us to grow beyond “desiring simply to know”—to grow
beyond that into “committing ourselves to love-filled action.” So Jesus wants
us to stay focused on actions—to stay focused in this parable on what the
Samaritan actually feels and does, and on nothing else. He
sees the man and is moved with compassion.
Now, the loveless actions of the robbers, the priest, and the Levite toward
their neighbor—these elicit from Jesus only the briefest and barest of
descriptions—about thirteen words each, in the Greek of Luke’s gospel. But the
love-filled actions of the Samaritan toward this Jew call forth from Jesus not
just the ten words in the Greek language that I’ve already translated but in
addition to these the fifty words (5-0) that continue on from there.
Yes, Jesus confronts the lawyer with quite an extended narration of this
Samaritan’s loving deeds. Listen again to all that he does!
“He went to [the half-dead man], poured oil and wine on his wounds, and
bandaged them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn,
and took care of him. The next day he took out two day’s wages, gave them
to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him, and when I come back, I will
repay you whatever more you spend.’” (vss. 35–36)
And it’s these kinds of concrete, loving action that Jesus is directing
us to take toward our neighbor—whether that person be a friend of ours or,
as in the case of this parable, a foe.
But have you noticed? Jesus never bothers to answer the lawyer’s follow-up
question—the one by which he had sought to coax Jesus into a debate over how
to define the term “neighbor.” Instead, Jesus, having told his parable, turns
to the lawyer to ask his own question, one that is implicitly inviting the
lawyer to a life of loving action. Jesus asks him, “Which of these three—the
priest, the Levite, or the Samaritan—became a neighbor, that is, acted
neighborly, to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” (vs. 36) And
when the lawyer gives the only answer possible—namely, “The one who showed him
mercy”—Jesus commands him, “Go, and you do likewise.” (vs. 37)
So you see, it’s not “Cogito ergo sum,” “I think, therefore I
am,” but “Amo ergo sum.” “I love, therefore I am”—it’s
love-filled action that’s to stand at the center of full and effective
living.
So what counts is not knowing that there are many people in our own
country who are lying half-dead along the side of life’s road because they have
no health insurance. No, what counts is doing something about that,
doing something to provide them with what they need—like electing
officials who will fix the system.
And what counts is not knowing that there are many people in the
Darfur region of the Sudan who are lying half-dead along the side of life’s
road because of heat, famine, displacement from their homes, and the threat
of genocide. No, what counts is doing something about that, doing
something to intervene on their behalf—like writing a check to Church
World Service or some other relief organization, or like urging our
president, our senators, and our congresspersons to work actively with other
nations and the U.N. to make sure that the Sudan does not become another
Rwanda.
And what counts is not knowing that the number of persons who are
HIV positive is again increasing here in the United States, as well as in Asia,
Latin America, and Africa. No, what counts is doing something about
that—acting in some concrete, loving way by underwriting and
otherwise supporting the work of stemming the spread of the virus,
the work of bringing medicines and relief to those already afflicted and
lying half-dead along life’s road.
Yes, each and every time we hear this parable, Jesus asks us afresh at
its conclusion, “Who became a neighbor, who acted neighborly?” And each and
every time we respond, “The one who showed mercy,” Jesus then goes on to
command us anew, “Go, and you do the same.” Grow beyond knowing, to
putting love into action.
Let us pray:
O God, we pray for a love that works to set all people free. Come,
living love; flow through our hearts today.
O God, we seek for a love that works to bring others well-being. Come,
caring love; be made alive through us today.
O God, we pray for a love that is unflinching and unafraid. Come,
strengthening love; use our hands, our feet, our mouths this day. Amen.
[Prayer based on June Boyce-Tillman, “We Sing a Love,”
quoted in Resources for Preaching and Worship, Year C, compiled by
Hannah Ward and Jennifer Wild (Louisville: Westminster John Know, 2003),
p. 209]