Fifth Sunday After Pentecost, Morning Worship, July 13, 2025
Sermon: Who is my Neighbor?
Accompanying Scripture: Luke 10 : 25-37
Who is my Neighbor?
He woke up on the side of the road. It didn’t take long for him to remember that he’d been beaten to within an inch of his life. A warm breeze on his back, and he realized his clothes had been taken from him.
He knew better than to travel the Jericho Road alone. It was a popular highway for thieves. He thought he could make it unscathed. What a way to learn a lesson.
He lay in the dirt, unable to move. He heard a few people pass by. A couple of them crossed to the other side of the road. They were either priests and Levites honoring the purity law, or people afraid that he was lying in wait to attack them.
He passed out again. He hoped that death would come quickly.
The next time he came to, it was late afternoon. He tried to move, but it was too painful. Then someone came by with an animal. He paused. He kneeled beside him. Assuming that the stranger would also abandon him, the hurt man didn’t bother moving or opening his eyes. It wasn’t worth it.
Sure enough the stranger stood up and went to his animal. It was to be expected, he thought, again condemning himself for traveling the road alone.
Except that the stranger didn’t leave. He returned and began cleaning his wounds. He used oil and wine and it stung, but it felt so good that someone had stopped and shown compassion. Slowly, he opened his eyes to see who this savior was.
A Samaritan. It couldn’t be. Samaritans and Jews hate each other. Did this man not realize that he was treating a Jew? He said nothing. The stranger continued to clean his wounds. Then he lifted him up and put him over his donkey.
He hurt all over, and being maneuvered onto the donkey was painful. The ride was uncomfortable, but he was grateful for the time being. He didn’t know where they were going. He hoped for the best.
They came to an inn, and the Samaritan got help getting him into a bed. He nursed some more wounds that he had missed on the road. He fed him, and he slept fitfully, having nightmares about the attack by the robbers. He had no money to pay him. How was he going to repay him?
He slept later than usual. He awoke to the innkeeper bringing him food. The innkeeper explained that the Samaritan had left him enough money to take care of him until he returned in a couple of days.
Who was this man? Who was he to put himself out to save a Jew? What kind of compassion did he have for someone who was an enemy?
Who are our Samaritans today? Perhaps they aren’t mortal enemies, but they aren’t people we usually associate with. They may even be people we don’t understand, trust, or even like. Sure, we’re supposed to love our neighbor. But, you know, sometimes…
Well. You know what I mean.
So, who are our Samaritans?
People of color?
The homeless?
The cross-dresser?
The neighbor down the street who acts weird and crazy?
The lesbian?
The disabled?
When we say we love our neighbor as ourselves, what does that mean? Do we love ourselves enough to be able to love our neighbor? What does that look like?
Love holds us to a standard of not only compassion and mercy, but also accountability. Love tests us to love ourselves enough so that we can love others. Love challenges us to reach out to those who seem unlovable.
In our congregation, we express who our neighbor is: all of them. That’s a tall order. One that we wrestle with weekly, if not daily. It’s a daunting list and one we haven’t covered in its entirety.
This Samaritan put compassion ahead of the law, unlike the Levite and the Priest, who would be unclean if they touched a potentially dead man.
It’s easy to keep within our demographic. But Jesus challenges our assumptions by telling uncomfortable stories like this one.
Even the lawyer who tried to justify himself strangely answered Jesus’ question.
Jesus asked him, “Who acted like a neighbor?”
The answer is “the Samaritan.” But the lawyer couldn’t even say the name. All he could answer was, “The one who showed compassion.”
As you ponder this concept this week, I invite you to notice the Samaritans around you. And consider these question:
When have you been shown compassion and mercy?
Did you feel vulnerable? Afraid?
Most of all, how were you changed?
All glory and honor be to God.
Amen.