A Good Samaritan To The Bad Samaritans

Luke 9:51-56
As the time approached for him to be taken up to heaven, Jesus resolutely set out for Jerusalem. And he sent messengers on ahead, who went into a Samaritan village to get things ready for him; but the people there did not welcome him, because he was heading for Jerusalem. When the disciples James and John saw this, they asked, “Lord, do you want us to call fire down from heaven to destroy them?” But Jesus turned and rebuked them. Then he and his disciples went to another village.

There are so very many places one could go with these verses. The first thing that struck me was the irony that the Samaritans treated Jesus poorly because they knew he was heading to Jerusalem. Let that sink in for a moment. Jerusalem. Where Jesus would in the not-too-distant future be crucified. As verse 51 clearly implies, Jesus is not heading for a pleasure cruise, and he knows it.

So Jesus was getting abuse from both directions. How did he respond? He certainly wasn't interested in doling out fiery judgement, as James and John proposed. But note also that Jesus didn't follow Pilgrim's advice, either. Yours truly has a need for approval matched only by an equally voracious desire to be understood. Yours truly would surely have wanted to explain. "The people in Jerusalem are going to kill me. You're attacking your enemy's enemy! I love you a lot more than those folks in Jerusalem do." But Jesus didn't explain anything. He just quietly moved on.

Considering what Jesus had just recently said to his disciples, maybe this shouldn't surprise us.

Luke 9:23-24
Jesus ... said to them all: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will save it.

People carrying around crosses don't get to explain or justify. They get to die. They absorb insults and spittle. And move on. That doesn't sit well with this Pilgrim. Perhaps I have some adjusting to do?

Moving on, but not without a brief tangent. Back in Luke 7 Jesus does some mind-boggling stuff. Heals from a distance. Raises the dead. And yet, amazingly, John the Baptist is dissatisfied. Enough so that he sends a message to Jesus essentially asking Jesus, "Did I blow the bugle for the wrong guy?" If the red carpet beneath Jesus' feet wasn't yanked, it was certainly tugged. So how does Jesus respond? With a compliment. He calls John the Baptist the greatest among men. Just when John falls down, Jesus lifts him up. Why do I mention that now? Because Jesus does the same thing here.

At a distance of 2,000 years we outsiders tend to vastly underestimate the level of animosity between Samaritans and Jews. James and John may seem to be overreacting in our minds, but that just goes to show how far removed we are from that conflict. My commentary noted that "Samaritans and Jews had detested one another's holy sites. Samaritans later tried to defile Jerusalem's temple. They were also known to heckle pilgrims to Jerusalem, a practice that occasionally led to violence." Reading these words, I suddenly found myself wondering when the parable of the Good Samaritan shows up in Luke. Oh. Chapter 10. All I had to do was turn one page.

Let that sink in. Jesus had just walked out of Samaria and a situation so charged with animosity that two of his disciples literally wanted to blow up a town. And here we are, one chapter later, hearing the parable that forever changed the meaning of the word Samaritan. To our ears today, Samaritan means only one thing. A Samaritan is a wonderful person. A godly man. The truly good person who upstages pious blow-hard religious fakes.

Jesus had every right to be angry with his cousin John, but he responded with undeserved grace. So here with Samaria. Jesus could have used Samaria as the centerpiece of a story about poor hospitality. Instead he did the opposite. He forever lifted Samaria up. He changed their identify forever.

In my last blog I asked rhetorically, Do I really have to love my enemies? The answer, of course, is Yes. Which enemies? The ones that I don't want to love today, obviously. This Pilgrim was not thinking about the Samaritans yesterday when writing those words, and yet here it is in front of me. Who were Jesus' enemies in chapter 9? The Samaritans. What did Jesus do in chapter 10? Love them.

If we want to see what loving enemies looks like in practice, We need only look to Jesus. Jesus, who while travelling on the road was rejected by unkind Samaritans—and whose response was to make a Samaritan the centerpiece of his story about kindness to strangers on the road.

Hebrews 1:1-2a
In the past God spoke to our ancestors through the prophets at many times and in various ways, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son...

Superior In Every Way: Part II (Service)

OK, so this series of reflections is moving ahead slowly. I wrote Part I in March.

Be that as it may, I was reflecting on true service, and am reminded again of Jesus. Superior in every way.

There are so many ways to look at Jesus as a servant, and how he, God incarnate, was better at serving than those who owe their very existence to him, let alone their salvation. We live because of him... and yet cannot even serve him well. And yet he serves us.

The scriptures are full of examples of how Jesus served others, and I suppose the most famous passage would be the last supper, where he got down on his knees to wash the feet of the other disciples. He took the job his disciples were too proud to take. But today I am drawn to another passage: Matthew 14-15.

In Celebration of Discipline Richard Foster notes, "When we choose to serve, we are still in charge.... but when we choose to be a servant, we give up the right to be in charge. There is great freedom in this."

The other day I was with a good friend and saw a call come through on my cell phone. It was a needy soul, and I wasn't in the mood to break away. I let it go to voice mail and called the fellow back a day or two later. On my own time. By my schedule. When it was convenient for me.

Now a case can be made for such decisions. Nevertheless I found myself reflecting on whether the timing of our conversation was best for my friend... or just best for my calendar and my desires. I won't say it was entirely the latter, but it certainly wasn't entirely the former either. I didn't feel like answering the call. My service button was in the "off" mode.

For a sharp contrast, we need go no further than Matthew 14-15. Jesus' own cousin John the Baptist has just been beheaded by King Herod. The text then reads...

Matthew 14:12-14
John's disciples came and took his body and buried it. Then they went and told Jesus.

[His cousin just died. He's grieving. Does Jesus try to "take a break" from ministry? Yes.]

When Jesus heard what had happened, he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place.

[Do the needy people leave Jesus alone in this time of deep sorrow? No.]

Hearing of this, the crowds followed him on foot from the towns.

[Does Jesus tell them all to back off and leave him alone? No.]

When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick.

As noted in the verses which follow, Jesus continue all day to minister all day long to a vast crowd of needy people.

And it doesn't stop there. After a no-doubt emotionally draining day of service to a host of needy people, Jesus again tries to slip away again. Remember, his cousin just got beheaded. He's probably wanting just a wee bit of alone time.

[Here I switch over to the Gospel of Mark's rendition of the same day, simply because I love his word choice...]

Mark 6:45-51
Immediately Jesus made his disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to Bethsaida, while he dismissed the crowd. After leaving them, he went up on a mountainside to pray.

When evening came, the boat was in the middle of the lake, and he was alone on land.

He saw the disciples straining at the oars, because the wind was against them. About the fourth watch of the night he went out to them, walking on the lake. He was about to pass by them, but when they saw him walking on the lake, they thought he was a ghost. They cried out, because they all saw him and were terrified.

Immediately he spoke to them and said, "Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid."

On the one day he needs to escape, he instead continues to serve. And serve. And serve.

Superior in every way.

Superior In Every Way: Part I (Suffering)

Isaiah 53:3
He was despised and rejected — a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief.
We turned our backs on him and looked the other way.
He was despised, and we did not care.

These are fitting words to ponder during the season of lent. The whole of chapter 53 is worth memorizing. But here I focus on the first phrase in the verse — acquainted with deepest grief.

I started this blog some months ago with the intent of getting some thoughts about Jesus down on "paper" — and yet I find I have not gotten far on that project yet. This entry is meant to begin the process of rectifying the situation!

My intent was, and is, to reflect on the superiority of Jesus Christ. In particular, I have been pondering for years about how he overcame in his life what we succumb to in our own lives.

What does it mean to say that Jesus was acquainted with grief?

My hunch is that, in essence, Jesus faced all the basic kinds of pain and suffering anyone ever faces. And triumphed over them all. My thesis is that we have a Lord who knows every kind of suffering and was familiar with all of our griefs. There is no kind of evil we face that he did not face too — and frequently under circumstances worse than our own.

Truth be told, I don't know that this is true. It's indelicate to say the words, but did Jesus endure sexual molestation as a child? Probably not. But I do hope to eventually wander the full landscape of suffering and reflect on how Jesus may (or may not have) endured it. Perhaps in the final analysis the core woundings involved in sex abuse are wounds he did receive, even if perhaps not by that route.

For today, however, I begin with something simpler: the loss of loved ones. Simpler? Yes. Easy? Far from it.

My mother passed away when I was 24 years old, just a month after I got married. Losing a mother when you are "relatively" young is not something I'd wish upon anyone. I shudder to think of losing her when I was 14. Worse still at the age of 4.

Some time ago I became intrigued by the silence in the matter of Jesus' father Joseph. The last we hear of Joseph is that Joseph and Mary took Jesus to the temple when Jesus was eleven years old. After that? Silence.

Where scriptures are silent we must of course trod with care — but it has always seemed rather obvious to me that Joseph must have died some time after that. Perhaps he died while Jesus was quite young. Perhaps much later. But I think it is safe to assume that Joseph passed away some time prior to the beginning of Jesus' ministry. In my thoughts below I'm going to assume this was the case, though it is granted that we presumably can never be sure of it.

Losing a parent is a great and terrible loss. I still mourn that my natural mother never had the chance to see my children grow up. I grieve that here on Earth my children will never meet my mother. But I had no choice in the matter. Cancer took my mother, and I had no power to stop it.

Not so for Jesus. Jesus had a choice. When his father Joseph died, Jesus could have raised him from the dead. Supposing there was a period of illness involved — Jesus could have healed him at any time. Jesus could, in fact, have prevented the onset of illness. He knew it was coming.

But he didn't do any of these things. Why?

Well... I don't know. But my suspicion is this: Jesus came to live among us, and to share in our suffering. Watching a loved one die is one of the worst agonies we as humans ever face. If Jesus had bypassed this dark valley, he would not have not been familiar with our sorrows or grief. He'd have been a bit more of a celestial tourist than a fellow sojourner if he'd taken a pass on this experience.

So Jesus knew what it's like to lose a parent. In fact, he endured what I endured... and more. I had to watch my mother die. He had to let his father die. I had no options in the matter. He did.

Superior in every way.