Glory to Jesus Christ! Glory forever!
In the Name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Today the Church puts before us a Gospel text that has earned the universal recognition as “the parable of the Good Samaritan” despite the fact that the word “good” in reference to the Samaritan is not used by our Lord. To the hearer of this parable, the Samaritan is no more good than, let’s say, the priest and Levite used by Jesus. They are all on equal footing, that is, until their actions. The Samaritan is “good” because of what he has done to the fallen man in the ditch, presumably a Jew, despite the fact that Samaritans and Jews are notorious enemies, despising one another immensely. In fact, our Lord was once labeled a “Samaritan” by some who sought to degrade Him and His teachings, even putting Him in league with the devil (Jn. 48)!
In this parable, the Samaritan, as well as the two religious men, were occasioned the opportunity to reveal just what they were made of, that is, to reveal their character. The Samaritan showed himself to be “good” because he put aside whatever prejudice or political persuasion was his in order to render aid to a very needy soul left for dead while the Temple priest and Levite (in today’s parlance we might say priest and deacon) chose to not get involved, to steer clear of the battered, bruised, and bloodied body there in the ditch. Presumably they did so for good reason according to the Law that prohibited them from coming into contact with a dead body, thus rendering them both ritually impure and unclean which would prohibit them from fulfilling their religious duties and possibly even be found guilty of defiling the House of God which could have grave consequences (Lv. 21:1-4, 11-12; Nm. 19:11-22).
So, the priest and Levite were well within the letter of the Law, but they missed the spirit of the Law in our Lord’s estimation Who is the Giver of the Law. The Law is summed up in two brief commandments which we all know. In this the anonymous lawyer, who had sought to test the Master and possibly entrap Him somehow, was right. He read the Law of God correctly: “’”Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind, and thy neighbor as thyself.”’” This Law is not unique to the New Testament but comes over into the New Testament from the Old, and is blessed by our Lord and Giver of the Law, “’On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets’” (Lv. 19:15, 17-18, 34; Dt. 6:5; Mt. 22:34-40).
To cut to the chase, love for God is only as deep as our love is for our neighbor. Love for our neighbor is predicated upon our love for God and reveals what we’re made of. Love for God, then, leads us to love our neighbor. St. John the Theologian links these in his Epistle when he writes, “If someone says, ‘I love God,’ and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen, how can he love God Whom he has not seen? And this commandment we have from Him: that he who loves God must love his brother also” (1 Jn. 4:20-5:2). This is the Theologian’s version of St. James’ challenge to some others sold on faith alone, which, incidentally, is set within St. James’ chapter on fulfilling the Royal Law of love revealed through the bestowal of mercy over judgment (Jm. 2:1-13). “Show me your faith without works,” St. James challenges, “and I will show you my faith by my works” (Jm. 2:14-26). Or, to re-set it slightly, “You say you love God? Show me your love for God without action, and I’ll show you my love for God by how I love my neighbor.”
You see, beloved, there is no doubt in my mind that the priest and Levite in our Lord’s parable loved God. It was their love for the letter of God’s Law that prohibited them, however, from loving the one fallen by the roadside as God loves us fallen and broken sinners. Love for God would have led them to sacrifice their ritual purity for the sake of the dying one, and thus, paradoxically, they would have fulfilled the Law perfectly! On one occasion our Lord chastises some scribes and Pharisees who are bent on fulfilling the Law to a tee, telling them, “’For you pay tithe of mint and anise and cummin, and have neglected the weightier matters of the Law: justice and mercy and faith. These you ought to have done, without leaving the others undone’” (Mt. 23:23) while on another occasion, Jesus sharply admonished the judgmentalism of the Pharisees, “’Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. But go and learn what this means: “I desire mercy and not sacrifice”’” (Ho. 6:6; Mt. 9:12-13).
Mercy triumphs (Jm. 2:13). “’Blessed are the merciful’” (Beatitudes). Mercy and compassion are the qualities of God – His energies – which we are to put on, that is, as we partake of and participate in His divine nature (2 Pe. 1:4). In Baptism, we have put on the Son of God and now through the Holy Spirit we are being crafted as new creations in Jesus Christ “in righteousness and true holiness” according to the image of God (2 Cr. 5:17; Ep. 4:24; Co. 3:10). And nothing should prevent mercy and compassion. St. Symeon the New Theologian offers some insight. He says, “Visit the sick, console the distressed, and do not make your longing for prayer a pretext for turning away from anyone who asks for help; for love is greater than prayer” (Wisdom of the Divine Philosophers II, 57). Perhaps this is what was on the minds of the priest and Levite in the parable. The goal of our prayer, however, is God: to love God, to be in closer communion with Him so as to be fashioned in His likeness more and more, this God Who is love, this God Whose nature is love and mercy and compassion. Prayer that does not help me to see my neighbor in need of mercy and compassion is false prayer. Prayer that fortifies our “love” for God at the expense of our neighbor is specious.
St. Porphyrios of Kavsokalyvia tells a story that offers a commentary on our Lord’s teaching here. He says:
There was a hermit with two monks in obedience. He did his utmost to foster their spiritual development and to make them good. He was unsure, however, whether they were really making any progress in the spiritual life and whether they were ready for the Kingdom of God. He looked for some sign from God about this, but he received no answer. One day there was going to be a vigil service in the church of another hermitage that was many hours walk away from his own. They would have to cross the desert. He sent off his two monks early in the morning so that they could help prepare the church and he planned to follow later in the afternoon. The monks had covered some considerable distance when they suddenly heard a groaning noise. A man was lying badly injured and was crying out for assistance.
‘Take me with you, please,’ he implored. ‘Here in the desert no one else is going to pass by and who will help me? There are two of you. Lift me up and take me to the nearest village.’
‘There’s no way we can do that,’ they replied. ‘We’re in a hurry to go to a vigil and we’ve got instructions to prepare everything.’
‘Please take me with you! If you leave me, I’ll die. I’ll be eaten by the wild beasts.’
‘We can’t do it. We’ve got to do what we’ve been told to.’ And they walked on.
In the afternoon the elder set out along the same road to go to the vigil. He came to the spot where the injured man was lying. He saw him and went up to him and said, ‘What happened to you, good man of God? How long have you been lying here? Did no one see you?’
‘Two monks passed by in the morning and I asked them to help me, but they were in a hurry to go to the vigil.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll carry you along,’ said the elder.
‘You won’t be able to,’ said the injured man. ‘You’re an old man and there is no way that you’ll be able to lift me up.’
‘Not at all, you’ll see I’ll manage. I can’t leave you here. I’ll bend down and you will grab hold of me and I’ll carry you along until we get to the nearest village. A little today and a little tomorrow, but I’ll get you there.’
With great difficulty he hoisted the man onto his back and set off. Walking in the sand with such a great weight was nearly impossible. Sweat was pouring from him in rivers. He thought to himself, ‘It will take three days, but I’ll get there.’ As he continued on his way, however, he felt his burden getting lighter and lighter until he felt he was carrying nothing at all. He turned round to see what was happening and was astonished to see an angel on his back. The angel said to him, ‘God sent me to inform you that your two monks are not worthy of the Kingdom of God because they don’t have love’ (Wounded by Love, 188-189).
Are we, beloved, worthy of the Kingdom of God?
Through the prayers of our holy Fathers, O Lord Jesus Christ our God, have mercy on us and save us. Amen.
Glory to Jesus Christ! Glory forever!
PROPERS:
Ga. 1:11-19
Lk. 10:25-37