The Good Heretic
John Shuck
Southminster Presbyterian Church
May 3, 2015
Luke 10:25-37
On one occasion, a legal expert stood up
to put him to the test with a question:
“Teacher, what do I have to do to inherit eternal life?”
He said to him, “How do you read what is
written in the law?”
And he answered, “You shall love the
Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength,
and will all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.”
Jesus said to him, “You’re right; do
this and you will have life.”
But trying to justify himself, he said
to Jesus, “But who is my neighbor?”
Jesus replied,
“This man was on his way from Jerusalem
down to Jericho when he fell into the hands of bandits. The stripped him, beat him, and went off,
leaving him half dead. Now by coincidence
a priest was going down that road; when he caught sight of him, he went out of
his way to avoid him. In the same way,
when a Levite came to the place, he took one look at him and crossed the road
to avoid him. But this Samaritan was
traveling that way. When he came to
where he was and caught sight of him, his heart went out to him. He went up to him and bandaged his wounds,
pouring olive oil and wine on them. He
hoisted him onto his own animal, brought him to an inn, and looked after him. The next day he took out two denarii, which he
gave to the innkeeper and said, ‘Look after him, and on my way back I’ll
reimburse you for any extra expense you’ve had.’
“Which of these three, in your opinion,
acted like a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of bandits?”
He said, “The one who showed him
compassion.”
Jesus said to him, “Then go and do the
same yourself.”
Not long after I decided to
explore the call to the ministry, my mentor asked me to teach a class. To prepare for it I looked through old
commentaries the church had. One was the
old Interpreter’s Bible that was published in the 1950s. I remember being disturbed. I was reading a commentary on the Gospel of
John. The commentary was demonstrating
how the dialogue Jesus had with his opponents fit a literary pattern. In other words, the author of the Gospel
of John created the dialogue.
I thought, “What? This isn’t the actual dialogue that Jesus had
with these people?” It was my first
introduction to critical study of the Bible and it disturbed me. It wouldn’t be the last time. When I finally made it to seminary I
learned a great deal more things that disturbed me. Critical study of the Bible as well as
church history and theology seemed to disturb more than it enlightened. Eventually it did enlighten but that was
harder and it took work and time.
I know why ministers don’t
share the information they learned in seminary.
It disturbs. When people get
disturbed they get angry often at the messenger. Or ministers think that their job is to
build up rather than disturb. They
don’t want to damage a fragile faith. So
we clergy tend to answer faith questions for
people rather than let the questions do their important work.
When I learned that the gospel
writers shaped the dialogue around Jesus, I wondered what else did they
do. Were these stories about Jesus
recorded history or literary creations or some combination? How can we trust that the Bible was God’s
word if you couldn’t trust it at face value?
There were many authors who
jumped in to defend scripture and its infallibility. These apologists would go to great lengths to
show that the critical scholars were wrong and that the gospel accounts were
accurately portraying events and conversations as they happened. I tried to
take solace in those apologists until I could no longer perform the mental
gymnastics necessary to believe in the unbelievable.
I really didn’t know about
the Jesus Seminar in particular until I had finished seminary. Although what the Jesus Seminar was doing was
no different than what I was learning in seminary. The Jesus Seminar was more open about
it. They were good with the media.
In 1994 right around Easter
the three big news magazines, Time, Newsweek, and US News and World Report all
came out with cover stories about the conclusions of the Jesus Seminar as
recorded in their publication, The Five
Gospels. I had only been in the
ministry for two years.
By that time I was embracing
critical study of the Bible. I was no
longer disturbed by it. Many of my
colleagues, those who I had considered liberals, were downplaying the Jesus
Seminar and trying to dismiss them.
They didn’t want to disturb their congregations. They didn’t want to worry them with this
scholarship and with the conclusions the seminar had reached regarding whether
Jesus said this or that or didn’t.
They felt their job was to protect their congregations from this
scholarship.
I went a different
direction. I did sermons on the work of
the seminar and invited people to check it out. There were some people who were disturbed,
probably more than I knew. Some people
were disturbed and told me about it and probably others didn’t say
anything. However, I plugged
along. What I found is that the spirit
of curiosity was stronger than the spirit of protection. People went along for the ride. In fact, it was a parishioner who introduced
me to John Dominic Crossan’s book, Jesus:
A Revolutionary Biography. Another
one told me about Peter Gomes. Many
shared with me their own questions that they had been reticent previously to
ask.
Over the course of this I
realized that my gut decision to share what I was learning worked well. It wasn’t about me disturbing them. It was about allowing the questions to do
their work. Disturb perhaps but then
deepen. Asking the questions and then following
wherever they lead has been a good ethic.
This progressive ethic is about curiosity. When we read or hear something that sounds
uncomfortable or disturbing, an instinct might be to protect or judge.
“That is wrong.
You can’t say that. If you do
that, you are this and certainly not that!”
But if we notice that
instinct and then step back and allow a spirit of curiosity to work, we might
find that some interesting questions are being explored. We might ask what is being said here? What is at stake? Why is this happening now? Where am I being moved?
I offer all of that preamble to introduce the parable of the
good “bad” guy. It is a good parable
to show how the gospel writers created different frames for the portrait of the
historical Jesus.
In Mark chapter 12, there is
a dialogue between a scholar and Jesus.
The scholar asks Jesus what the greatest commandment is. Jesus combines a text from Deuteronomy with
another from Leviticus:
“Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with
all your soul and with all your might and love your neighbor as yourself.”
Jesus offers this answer to
the scholar. Jesus might have said
this, but he might not have been the first to combine these two texts. The Jesus Seminar voted gray, meaning
possibly. It sounds like him, but not
sure.
Then we get to Luke. Luke takes this dialogue between the scholar
and Jesus and turns it upside down. In
Luke’s case Jesus doesn’t provide the answer, but the scholar does. Then
Luke has the scholar ask Jesus, “But who is my neighbor.” Then Jesus tells the parable of the Good “Bad”
Guy. After the parable ends, Luke
creates more dialogue by having Jesus ask, “Who acted like a neighbor?” The scholar answers and Jesus says go and do
likewise.
You have two independent
traditions, the dialogue with Jesus and
the scholar about the greatest commandment found in Mark on one hand. Then you have the parable of the Samaritan on
the other. Luke combines them. They don’t quite fit. In the dialogue before the parable the
neighbor is the one you are commanded to love.
In the dialogue after the parable the neighbor is the one who does the
loving. Go and do likewise.
The parable really isn’t
about that at all. It isn’t about
caring for the neighbor or being neighborly.
Although that preaches. We name
hospitals and ministries in honor of the Good Samaritan. We say that someone is a Good Samaritan if
they help someone whose car is stalled along the road. That is a good message. Yes, be a good neighbor. Be a
Good Samaritan.
That is a good message. It just isn’t quite the message of the
parable. The parable does likely go
back to the historical Jesus. The
seminar voted it red, not the dialogue before and after, just the parable. The parable is not about being a neighbor
or helping the neighbor as important as that message is. Actually that is easier than what the parable
is saying.
The parable is about something more disturbing. It is about the discomfort and the disturbance of receiving help from the person you despise. We would all rather be the Good Samaritan than be the person in the ditch. The parable is about the person in the ditch.
To set the stage, we have to know a little bit about the relationship between Jews and Samaritans. This is from Robert Funk’s book, A Credible Jesus:
The Samaritans, although near relatives of the
Judeans, were regarded as mortal enemies.
They occupied the land separating Galilee to the north from Judea to the
south. The Samaritans were a strict
Torah-observing sect who claimed to preserve the true heritage of the
Pentateuch—the first five books of the Bible.
They revered the same books as the Jerusalem cult but disagreed on
everything else. The Samaritans had
built their temple atop Mt. Gerizim, a few miles north of Jerusalem. They regarded the Judeans to the south as
heretics who had strayed from their original worship on Mt. Gerizim by building
a temple in Jerusalem. John Hyrcanus, a
Judean ruler, destroyed the Samaritan temple in 128 BCE. That only deepened the hostility between the
two cousins.
So fierce was the rivalry between them that Jewish
pilgrims from Galilee often crossed the Jordan to the east to make the journey
south via Jericho in order to avoid contact with the Samaritans, even thought
the route through Samaria was much shorter.
The Galileans who sometimes ventured across that alien terrain were
regularly refused hospitality and occasionally met with violence.
In that setting, Jesus tells
this parable.
Jesus tells a parable of a
pilgrim who is beaten and left for dead.
Jesus’ audience was Jewish and mostly of the peasant class. Parables like jokes are told in threes. Three guys go into a bar…
You hear two typical answers
and then the punchline.
The Levites and the priests
would be typical. They would pass by of
course and not be of help. The audience would be expecting the third person to
be the good guy. This is the
punchline. He or she would be someone
like us. A Jewish peasant is the
hero. That is the one who really helps. They are expecting an anti-clergy and
anti-elite parable.
Jesus disturbs. Instead of a Jewish peasant, someone like
his audience being the hero, he instead has their sworn enemy be the hero. The despised Samaritan is the helper. You can imagine the grumbling at this
parable.
It is hard enough to receive
help. But help from them? “Come on,
Jesus! Boo! Throw him off a cliff!”
The listeners to be in the
parable are not the helper. The helper
is the enemy. They have to identify with the person in the ditch. The one who needs help and who gets it from
the enemy.
That is the setting. Imagine today. Who is our enemy. Is it the Muslim? Probably not for us. It is probably the conservative
Christian. Or maybe the liberal Christian. It is the one like us but different. The relative who really
annoys us. That is the one who helps us
when the chips are down.
From whom in your life would
you definitely not want help? Yep, that
is the one.
It is hard to receive
help. It shatters our pride. If we could manage it, most of us would not
want to receive help from anyone. Industries
are set up to keep people, at least those with means, help-free from birth to
death. We try to set our lives up so
that we are not in need, not vulnerable, not dependent upon anyone. We don’t
want to be dependent on our family members. We don’t want to be dependent on
friends. There is no way we want to be
dependent on “those people.” You fill
in the blank on “those people.”
We make it a virtue. Being
self-made and independent
“She never complained.
She never asked anyone for anything.”
I have heard that preached at
funerals. Then at the same funeral for the
same person:
“But she was always there to help others.”
The definition of
virtue: Being a helper and never needing
help.
That is common wisdom and we
all know it. We don’t want to be a burden. We don’t want help. It makes us feel vulnerable. It makes us feel shame. Because
we know what receiving help might mean.
We might be seen as weak. We
might be seen as needy. Others might
have power over us. We might be seen as
a burden. We will be embarrassed that we
couldn’t pull ourselves up by our own boot straps. And on and on..
One of the reasons for suicide is the combination of alienation, that is being isolated from others
and of thinking that one is a burden. It
is not an act of selfishness at all.
It is a fatal thought, a tragic thought that life would be better for
others if I didn’t exist. It is not true, of course. It is not true that one’s death is worth
more than one’s life to others, but the suicidal person thinks it is true. Combine that with fearlessness about physical
pain and you have a fatal combination.
Common wisdom is that we
don’t want or need help. We don’t want
to be a burden and we imagine that we are burdens more than we think.
The truth is we all need to know what grace is when we are in need.
Jesus knew the pain of
needing help when you are in the ditch. He knew the shame of thinking that one is a
burden. He knew the pain of being acted
upon. Half of the gospels present
Jesus as the actor. He heals. He
teaches. He walks on water. He is super god man. The last half of each gospel has Jesus be
acted upon. He is vulnerable. He is beaten. He is alone.
He is in need.
He is, in Christian terms,
the anointed, the Christ, in both settings.
He showed not only how to bind up the wounds but how to be the one who
is wounded and in need of care. Both
are positions of grace. We need not
only learn how to be the neighbor who helps but also to be the neighbor who
receives. That second is harder.
If we think receiving is an
act of weakness, we have definitely got that wrong. Receiving requires great strength. Being vulnerable is the act of a big heart.
In his own life and passion Jesus
showed the grace to be a giver and a receiver.
Jesus knew that the challenge was receiving help. He knew that unless his people knew how to
receive help as well as give it, and receive it from their enemies, they would
not survive. He knew that the only way human
beings were going to survive was to move beyond our tribalism.
Jesus needed to communicate
that in God’s domain we receive help. In
God’s domain we receive help from unexpected people and places. In God’s domain we receive help from those from
whom we don’t want help. That is the
kingdom of God. That is God’s
domain.
How true is this today. We need to move beyond our tribalisms more
than ever. The only way to survive in
this world is to receive help from those we don’t want to receive. The challenge is not to help the
other. We need to do that. We need to do it with incredible sensitivity
and dignity. But the real challenge is
to receive help from the other. That is the meaning of grace.
Amen.
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