Get in the FIGHT: Take Initiative

A sorry sap was sauntering slowly, side-to-side 

when suddenly six serious assassins 

set themselves to smash that silly sap.  

 

Stripped, stunned, and shaken, 

he stumbled and sank to the solid slate of the sidewalk.  

 

After seemingly several seconds slipped by, 

a sanctimonious sort of celibate 

saw the simple soul seething on the sidewalk; 

so, he stopped, and then simply strolled by. 

 

Soon a selfish shepherd, who subsisted on a small salary, 

stalled a second, but left the sorry simpleton stranded.  

 

Surprisingly, a spiritually substandard Samaritan 

slid straightway to the subdued subject, who was stunned.  

 

Seeing the seriousness of the situation, 

he restored the strength of that sorry soul 

and sitting him in the saddle of his staunch stallion, 

surveyed him safely to some sanitarium,

where he secured some substantial sustenance 

for that stranded sojourner.

 

“So,” said the Savior, “Seeing such circumstances, 

who seems to be the sympathetic saint in such a situation?”

 

“Surely, the Samaritan,” stammered the scribe.

 

“Superb,” said the Savior, “So must you shape yourself.”

 

 

Good morning, Friends! If you’ve been with us the last few weeks, you know we’re in the midst of a sermon series called Get in the Fight. And FIGHT is an acronym, where we’ve explored Christ’s calling for us in this New Year: 

F – Follow the Golden Rule
I – Instill Trust

G – Give Your Best

H – Hold Yourself & Others Accountable

T – Take Initiative

 

Yes, today is all about taking initiative. Following Jesus was never meant to be a passive religion; it is meant to be an active way of life. 

 

Now, I’m a bit of a word guru. I like to know what words mean, and my study of initiative this week led me to this: 

 

Initiative is expressed in two ways - by thoughts and by deeds. 

·      The Hebrew word chashab defines the thinking phase of initiative. It means to “plan, calculate, invent, imagine.” 

·      The Greek word poieo is most frequently used for the doing phase. It describes the action phase of initiative, meaning “to make, produce, execute, institute.” 

Consider some of these other definitions of initiative: 

·      Taking steps to seek after God with our whole heart, to personally apply what we read in the Scriptures.

·      Making the best use of opportunities to share our stories.

·      Assuming responsibility for the physical and spiritual encouragement of those around us.

·      Recognizing and doing what needs to be done before being asked.

·      Not putting off until tomorrow the things I can do today.

·      Being part of the solution, rather than the problem.

Initiative, it seems, is foundational to all other qualities. It’s the first quality that God used to demonstrate His love to us. And it’s the first quality that we must use in responding to His love. Initiative is using the grace of God, to achieve the will of God, as directed by the Spirit of God. 

 

Initiative, it also seems, is required to carry out every other character quality, including gratitude, forgiveness, punctuality, diligence, and joyfulness. It’s also essential to fulfilling commands in Scripture, such as “pray without ceasing,” “follow the golden rule”, “lay up treasures in heaven,” “maintain good works,” and “go into all the world.” 

The more I mulled initiative, the more one story came to mind. It’s one of my favorite stories Jesus told, the story of the tongue-twister! Rather, the Parable of the Good Samaritan. Parable, in Greek, means “to come alongside.” And certainly, this is a story Jesus used to encourage His listeners to take the initiative and come alongside their neighbors. While you heard it via tongue-twister, why don’t we also read this parable from Luke chapter 10: 

 

On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

 

“What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read it?”

 

He answered, “‘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, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”

 

“You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”

 

But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

 

In reply Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. 

But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’

 

“Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”

 

The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”

 

Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.”

 

The lawyer asked a straightforward question. Except it isn’t.

 

For one thing, as we read the text, we have no idea the emotion behind the question. While Luke speculated the lawyer asked the question for his own benefit (so that he may be “justified”), we are left to wonder:

·      Did he ask the question out of exasperation?

·      Or curiosity?

·      Or cynicism?

·      Or anger?

·      Or entrapment?

 

What words in the question did he emphasize? How would it have sounded?

Did he ask,

·      “WHO is my neighbor?” Or,

·      “Who IS my neighbor?” Or,

·      “Who is MY neighbor?” Or,

·      “Who is my NEIGHBOR?”

 

Then, Jesus complicated the entire situation by telling a story instead of giving a straightforward answer. If Jesus had been a Methodist, He would have known the correct answer to the attorney’s question is, “Everyone is my neighbor!”

 

Of course, Jesus knew the human condition. He knew that if “everyone” is our neighbor, then no one is. The love of neighbor is either lived out in relationship and proximity to another person, or it’s no love at all. The story we have before us today is one of both relationship and proximity.

 

To this day, the road from Jericho to Jerusalem is steep, long, winding, and desolate. I’ve traveled that road. It’s in a mountainous, arid desert. You actually pass by the “Valley of the Shadow of Death.” There are many places for robbers to hide. In fact, the name for the road was “the way of the blood.” So, this was a VERY believable story for those who were listening. Although Jesus does not identify the man going down to Jericho, since this was a Jewish lawyer and Jewish audience, they more than likely imagined a Jewish person. The man is robbed, wounded, and left for dead. He needs help.

 

It helps to understand the culture here, too. Anyone who touched a dead man would be considered unclean. He wouldn’t be allowed into the synagogue, and he would have to quarantine for a time. The priests could have used this excuse for not attending to the hurt man. It would have kept them from serving God in the temple. BUT, if you read the text carefully, you see the priest and Levite were going "down on the road." Jerusalem is on a hill! So, they likely were leaving Jerusalem, where the temple was, which doesn’t make this a valid excuse. They had already accomplished their duties and were heading home. 

 

Whatever the case, the priest and the Levite were in a hurry to get where they were going. It was too bad about the half-dead man in the road. Someone else would have to attend to him. Touching this bleeding man would make them ritually impure. Plus, they just did not have time.

 

Then came the Samaritan. Belonging, as he did, to a heretical sect, his theology was all wrong. Ethnically, he was not even a pure Jew; he was a Jew/Gentile mongrel. He was considered to be less than human. Many Jews would have welcomed an “ethnic cleansing” campaign to purge the holy land of such persons. The Samaritan, of course, knew this. As he saw his bloodied enemy lying there in the road, he could have smugly said, “serves him right”, and kept walking.

But he couldn’t. Compassion for the suffering of a fellow human being won out over partisan theology, ethnicity, and the demands of his schedule. If this had happened to his dad, his mother, or his child, he would want a passing Jew to stop and help. So, he went way out of his way, blowing his schedule to bits, and spending money that he perhaps couldn’t afford to spend.  He even made plans to follow up later, on his way back from his trip.

 

The challenge for us in hearing the story is to resist our certainty about it. This story is NOT a morality tale. Jesus is not simply telling the lawyer and other listeners to “be kind to the downtrodden.” While the world could certainly use a lot more kindness, and Christians have certainly failed in the kindness department through the centuries, this sort of summary completely misses the scandal of the story!

 

The first thing to remember is this: The hero in the story, the good neighbor, the Samaritan, was a member of an ethnic group the Jews hated. And to be clear, the Samaritans hated and distrusted Jews just as much. The animosity between Samaritans and Jews went back for centuries. The Jews of Jesus’ day had such disdain for the Samaritans that when traveling from Judea to Galilee, or vice versa, they would literally cross the Jordan River twice, in order to walk entirely around the region of Samaria  — just so they could avoid getting Samaritan dirt on their sandals.

 

But nevertheless, this Samaritan took initiative by showing compassion. In the Greek text, this stands out because of the prepositions. (Y’all remember prepositional phrases from English class?!) The Greek language uses two different words that we translate to the preposition “by” to differentiate these actions.

 

While the priest and Levite passed BY on the OTHER SIDE, the Samaritan passed BY, moving TOWARD the injured man. This is significant because we must move toward people in order to love them, in order to build relationships. It doesn’t just happen. We have to take initiative.

 

The Samaritan moved toward someone who despised him. The victim was likely someone who wouldn’t do the same if the situation were reversed. He likely would’ve flinched, had he been conscious. But love means moving towards others. It’s often inconvenient. And it means giving, not just out of our abundance, but at times, out of our substance.

 

The second thing to remember is this: the heartless people in the story are the supposed “holy people”  — the priest and the Levite — and they were the victim’s own people! A fellow Jew had been robbed, beaten to within an inch of his life, and they simply walked on by. The Jews in this story missed the opportunity to be different, to show initiative, and to extend a hand of love and care. Every time I read this story as a pastor, or as a global missions director, I can’t help but wonder… who am I walking past day in and day out? How often do I make excuses, or rush by, just because I don’t have the time? 

 

The third thing to remember is this: everything about being neighborly in the story was time-consuming and costly. The Samaritan took the initiative when the others did not. He delayed his own journey, offered first aid, provided transport, arranged for room and board, and paid the bill. Remember that this is a Samaritan in enemy territory. And he told one of his enemies, the Jewish hotel manager, “Here is my VISA card. Do whatever you need to do to take care of him!!”

 

Mercy is a hallmark of neighborliness. Mercy isn’t simply a feeling of pity! Mercy is a series of definitive acts for the benefit of the one who is helpless, and the one who will likely be unable to repay the mercy shown by the benefactor.

 

Now, here’s the hard part about this parable. Whenever we hear it, we immediately want to identify with the Samaritan. And why not? He’s the hero! We want to think that, if faced with a similar circumstance, we would behave like he did . We would be helpful to the person in pain. Or, at the very least, we would dial 911! Right?

Plenty of sermons on this text have encouraged us to be more attentive to the needs of others. Plenty of sermons call out the religious hypocrites, and praise the virtues of the Samaritan. In these sorts of sermons, though, the victim becomes little more than a prop. The victim loses his identity, as we hustle to distance ourselves from the hard-hearted religious people, and embrace the virtue of the Samaritan.

 

But what if there’s something more subversive going on in Jesus’ story? Something more unsettling? What if we’re meant to identify with the victim?

 

Think about it for a minute. Try to imagine yourself lying in a ditch beside the road in the scorching heat of the midday sun. You know you’re bleeding. You think you have a couple of broken ribs, maybe a broken nose, and perhaps even a dislocated shoulder. Your eyes are swollen. EVERYTHING HURTS! You are thirsty. And you simply can’t move. You’re naked and unidentifiable. 

 

Then, through the haze of semi-consciousness, you begin to feel the touch of hands. You feel the sting of wine being poured into your wounds, followed by the soothing feeling of oil. Bandages are applied. You are hoisted onto the back of a donkey, and you are steadied in the saddle by your rescuer, as you weakly wobble back and forth. After a while, you are laid in a bed. Exhausted, you drift off to sleep.

 

When you awaken, still in pain, you are confronted by a detail which had not mattered to you when you were in the ditch. The person, who has been so attentive to your needs, is a SCUM BAG Samaritan! You hate those people! They are infidels! They don’t worship the right God! They are racially inferior! Nothing about them is good!

 

And now… Now you owe your life to one of them!

 

Now, think about this: bring this story forward 20 centuries.

 

·      Who are the people we don’t want as our neighbors?

·      Who are the people from whom we’d prefer not to receive mercy? 

·      Who are the people with whom we simply cannot abide?

·      What nationality?

·      What religion?

·      What family member?

·      Democrats? Republicans? 

·      Maybe the maskers? The anti-maskers? The vaxxers? The anti-vaxxers?!

·      Who are the people we’ve so demonized as evil that the thought of even being in the same room with them fills us with fear, or hatred, or both?

·      Who are the people we have so dehumanized, with various sorts of labels, that their suffering barely registers with us? Or worse, we somehow believe they brought their suffering upon themselves?

In today’s Gospel story, the wrong sort of person turns out to be the hero. The religious folks are impervious to a fellow citizen’s suffering, and fail to live up to their own chosen ethic. And the helpless victim is restored to wholeness because of the mercy of a passerby, who, had the tables been turned, would have likely been left to die by the very person he rescued. Rather than a simple story about being nice, this is a complex narrative of the human soul.

The challenge in the story is to sit with the discomfort it evokes…

 

The story compels us to explore our own tendency to ignore those who lie helplessly in the ditches of life, and then to justify our inaction by blaming the victims for being in the ditch in the first place.

 

The story dares us to think deeply about the groups and individuals we’ve cordoned off as unworthy of our neighborliness.

 

The story implores us to confront, with honest humility, our preference for the ease of generalizations over the intentional effort of relationships.

 

The opportunity in the story is to see it, not as a call to “do better,” but as an invitation to take action in our lives, to seek God’s mercy and forgiveness, to take initiative, and to be the example Christ is calling us to be. 

 

Christ asked the lawyer, “Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?”

 

He answered, “The one who showed him mercy.”

 

Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

 

And how do we go and do likewise? 

 

We get in the fight, live as Christ taught us to live, and take the initiative with compassion, with mercy, and with care. 

 

Friends, that’s what the cross is about. 

 

The Divine Samaritan saw the entire human race bloodied on a desolate road to nowhere. He got involved. And to rescue us, it cost Him more than a couple of coins and a few hours’ delay. What He asks of us, who wish to be known as Christians, or “little Christs,” is to love with His love, and be true to His Name. Friends, it’s time we get in the fight and take initiative. 

 

Let us pray:

Good and Gracious God,

we know that You have made us for Yourself,

to love You and to love our neighbors. 

Yet still we cannot help but live for ourselves, 

and every day we justify ourselves by our own standards, not Yours. 

But Lord, You have found us in the ditch, 

and You have rescued us. 

Now soften our hearts to Your will,

and make us to love others as You have loved us; 

and take the initiative to see others as You see them. 

In the name of Jesus we pray, Amen.