A Sermon for the Thirteenth Sunday after Trinity
A Sermon for the Thirteenth Sunday after Trinity
St. Luke 10:23-37 & Hosea 6:1-11
by William Klock
“A lawyer got up and put Jesus on the spot,” writes St. Luke in today’s Gospel. If you’re following along, this is Luke 10:25. “A lawyer got up and put Jesus on the spot.” An expert on torah. If you had a question about whether or not to do such-and-such or how you were to do this or not do that and it wasn’t spelled out in black and white in the Bible, this was the guy you asked. He knew how to parse it and extrapolate it all out. And he’s angry. He’s been hanging out on the edge of the crowd as Jesus addressed his disciples, but enough is enough. He pushes forward. He’s going to put Jesus on the spot and expose him for the fraud he is. And so he calls out, “Teacher,” and he gets Jesus’ attention. And then he asks, “What should I do to inherit the life of the age to come.” I can imagine him leaning back on his heels, arms crossed. Jesus is going to hang himself with his answer and everyone’s going to walk away and never listen to Jesus again.
But we before we get to Jesus’ answer, we need to ask what the lawyer was actually asking. “What must I do to inherit…zoen aionion?” Zoe aionios to say it in Greek. Zoe means “life” and we’ve traditionally translated aionios as “eternal”. That’s not wrong, but “eternal” doesn’t fully capture the significance of aionios as it was used by Judeans of Jesus’ day. In English “eternal” just means “eternal”…“forever”. And we think the lawyer is asking, “What must I do to live forever?” For a lot of people that translates into “What must I do to go to heaven when I die?” But it’s really a lot deeper than that. At the root of this word aionios is the word—and it might sound a little familiar—aion. It’s where we get our word “aeon” and it’s basic meaning is “age” and it became shorthand for “the age to come”—meaning the messianic age everyone was hoping and longing for.
And the lawyer asks this question about the age to come, because he’s been listening to Jesus address his disciples as they returned from the mission he’d sent them on. He sent out seventy to proclaim the good news—to gospel the gospel in the cities and towns of Israel and they came back excited because of the things they’d seen. At the name of Jesus, even demons obeyed them. And Jesus said to them: This is what the prophets foretold. Isaiah and Ezekiel told of their visions of the satan falling like lightening and you’re seeing it happen. God’s kingdom is breaking in. God’s light is driving away the darkness and toppling the rulers of the present evil age—and you’re part of it. And this is where he says to them, “Don’t rejoice that spirits are subject to you, but rejoice [about what it means:] that your names are written in heaven.”
God’s got a book—metaphorically speaking—and in it he records the names of everyone who belongs to him, of everyone whom he will one day resurrect from death and lead into the age to come. The Jews knew their names were written in that book. God had chosen them and so long as they didn’t wilfully reject him—which is what the tax collectors and sinners did—their names were written in that book and, when the Messiah came, he would set the world to rights and lead them into the age to come.
But what’s got this lawyer worked up is that Jesus is implying that they may not all have their names written in the book after all. The lawyer—like pretty much everyone in Israel—knew his name was written in the book because God had made a covenant with them and because they kept their end of the covenant—the torah. Circumcision, sabbath, diet, all these things marked them out and demonstrated their commitment and love for God. But Jesus has just said to his disciples, “A blessing on the eyes which see what you see! Let me tell you, many prophets and kings wanted to see what you see, and they didn’t see it; and to hear what you hear, and they didn’t hear it!” In other words, the renewal of Israel that God had promised through the prophets had come—in Jesus—and being written in God’s book is about more than just being born a Jew or even the outward observance of torah. And it’s that last bit that Jesus is getting at in his answer. Look at verse 26. Jesus responds to the lawyer’s question and asks, “Well, what is written in the law? What’s your interpretation of it?”
And the lawyer gives the answer that every kid in Judaea could have given: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your strength, and all your understanding; and your neighbour as yourself.”
And Jesus replied—I’m sure to the frustration of the lawyer—“Well said! Do that and you will live.” Picture the lawyer gritting his teeth. No, no, no. If that’s true, then we’re all on the same page! But he knew they weren’t, because if Jesus’ disciples were “in”, then everyone else was, by implication, “out”. So, Luke writes, “to justify himself” the lawyer asks Jesus, “But who is my neighbour?” It’s his second attempt at a gotcha question. And Jesus responds with a story, a parable:
“Once upon a time,” he said, “a man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and was set upon by robbers. They stripped him and beat him and ran off leaving him half-dead.”
Everybody knew that road. Very soon Jesus would be travelling it himself, going the other direction, up to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover—and to become the new Passover himself. That road was steep and windy and notorious for the robbers hiding in wait for unwary travellers. The wise travelled in groups or well-armed. Travelling it alone, like this man did, was foolish. This lawyer, listening to Jesus, would be shaking his head and thinking to himself that anyone dumb enough to travel that road alone was a candidate for a Darwin Award.
But Jesus goes on. “A priest happened to be going down that road, and when he saw him he went past on the opposite side.’” Now, you and I shake our heads and think, “What a horrible priest! How could he not stop to help the man.” But we only think that way because we’ve been shaped by the gospel and by Jesus and the Spirit. The cross of Jesus has taught us mercy. That God would not only humble himself, but would shed his blood on behalf of his rebellious children has taught us mercy in a way never understood before the gospel. But that lawyer—and the crowd and maybe even Jesus’ disciples—they lived in the dark world on the other side of the good news of the cross. They saw nothing wrong with this priest passing by the man. The priests kept themselves ritually pure. They had to in order to enter the temple. Even though this priest is going in the opposite direction—probably on his way home from serving his rotation in the temple—he still kept himself pure. He couldn’t tell if the man was dead or alive and if went over, rolled him over, and found him dead, well, then he’d be impure. That was okay for normal people, but not for a priest. And everyone knew this. And, again, no one had a problem with it. And, of course, this is the very problem with Israel that Jesus wants to highlight for the lawyer.
“Then,” said Jesus, “a Levite came by the place. He saw him too and went past on the opposite side.” He might not be a priest, but being a Levite, he too served in the temple. Again, he’s going the opposite way—like the priest, he’s probably on his way home from serving in the temple. But, still, being a Levite, he can’t chance becoming impure. And, again, this was all normal and good and right as far as most people were concerned.
“But then,” said Jesus, “a travelling Samaritan came to where he was.” Everyone frowned at this. Samaritans were filth. They were descendants of the Jews who intermarried with the native Canaanite peoples when the people of Judah were in exile. They worshiped at their own illicit temple at Shechem and they compromised torah with pagan practises and pagan philosophy. They were traitors of the worst kind. Just being on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho meant he was fouling the promised land with his impure Samaritan feet. And yet, Jesus said, “He came over to the man and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put him on his own beast, took him to an inn, and looked after him. The next morning, as he was going on his way, he gave the inn-keeper two dinars. ‘Take care of him,’ he said, ‘and on my way back I’ll pay you whatever else you need to spend on him.’”
“Where’s Jesus going with this?” Everyone was thinking. “What’s his point?” There’s no way this would happen in real life. But that’s kind of the point. Jesus looks the lawyer in the eye and asks, “Which of these three do you think turned out to be the neighbour of the man who was set upon by the brigands?” Jesus is going make the lawyer come out and say it. And the lawyer does, because there’s no escape for him. “The one who showed mercy on him,” he said.
“Well,” Jesus said to him, “you go and do the same.”
I fully expect that as the lawyer answered the question and said, “The one who showed him…mercy.” The lights suddenly went on for him for everyone else. That word “mercy” is the key. Jesus had just turned Hosea 6:1-11 into a parable. Here’s what the Lord had said through the Prophet Hosea some eight centuries before:
Come, let us return to the Lord;
for he has torn us, that he may heal us;
he has struck us down, and he will bind us up.
After two days he will revive us;
on the third day he will raise us up,
that we may live before him.
Let us know; let us press on to know the Lord;
his going out is sure as the dawn;
he will come to us as the showers,
as the spring rains that water the earth.”
What shall I do with you, O Ephraim?
What shall I do with you, O Judah?
Your love is like a morning cloud,
like the dew that goes early away.
Therefore I have hewn them by the prophets;
I have slain them by the words of my mouth,
and my judgment goes forth as the light.
For I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice,
the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.
But like Adam they transgressed the covenant;
there they dealt faithlessly with me.
Gilead is a city of evildoers,
tracked with blood.
As robbers lie in wait for a man,
so the priests band together;
they murder on the way to Shechem;
they commit villainy.
In the house of Israel I have seen a horrible thing;
Ephraim’s whoredom is there; Israel is defiled.
For you also, O Judah, a harvest is appointed,
When I restore the fortunes of my people.
This the Lord’s rebuke of the northern kingdom of Israel—also known as “Samaria”. Hint, hint. There’s a reason Jesus puts a Samaritan at the centre of the story. The people of Israel went through the motions of obedience, but the Lord accused them. Their love for him was “like a morning cloud, like the dew that goes early away.” Their nation was a nation of evil-doers with blood on their hands. They offered their sacrifices, but there was no love in their hearts. The priests were lying in wait for their people like robbers.
Again, this was a rebuke of Israel eight hundred years before, but now Jesus brings the same rebuke to Judah. And yet, there’s still the promise. The long-awaited age to come is breaking in. As the Lord promised through Hosea, he will come to heal his people, to bind up their wounds, to revive them after two days, and to raise them up on the third day. But whom will he heal and revive and raise up? The lawyer gave the answer “The one who showed his neighbour mercy.”
There was no mercy in the heart of the priest and no mercy in the heart of the Levite—and there was no mercy in the hearts of the people of Judah who saw nothing wrong with the priest and the Levite leaving the man to die. For that matter there was no mercy in the hearts of people who saw the Samaritans as unredeemable, reprobate scum. And that was the heart of the problem. And this heart problem was precisely what Jesus came to fix. Because the only people who will have a share in the age to come—in the kingdom of God—are the people who have the heart of God. The people who are poor in spirit, who mourn the state of the world, the meek, the people who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the pure in heart, the peacemakers—and the merciful.
This is why I think it’s so important to pay attention to how we translate those words in the lawyer’s question—zoe aionios. Because it’s not just “eternal life” Jesus offers; it’s eternal life in the age to come—in God’s world set to rights and eternal life in his presence. Brothers and Sisters, “salvation” isn’t just fire insurance. It’s not just rescue from death so that we can live forever, so that we can see our loved ones again, so that we can experience bliss forever and ever. That’s all a very self-centred, a very worldly, a very therapeutic understanding of salvation. What Jesus offers us is the life we were meant for, the life we see Adam and Eve living in the garden at the very beginning of the story, a life of perfect fellowship with God, a life serving as the priests of his temple, a life stewarding his heart for the sake of the world.
And ever since he called Abraham, but especially since he rescued Israel and made them his people, God’s purpose for his people has been to reveal himself to the nations through them so that the world might know his goodness, his faithfulness, his love, his mercy, his grace—and on and on. God’s purpose for his people has always been to make his heart known to the nations. Our lives and our collective life together is meant to lift the veil on God’s future, on his new creation. It’s not about us or about our glory; it’s about God and it’s about God’s glory.
When he delivered Israel from Egypt, God came down and dwelt in their midst. He fellowshipped with them. It wasn’t the perfect fellowship of the garden that Adam and Even had known, but it was a fellowship that made know his desire for humanity and a fellowship that pointed forward to the day when, through Jesus, he delivered us from sin—and even further to that day when sin (and death) are gone forever. He gave Israel a law that set her apart and that taught her his heart so that they would know justice and mercy, love and grace, and put his heart on display for the world. Theirs was to be a little microcosm of his new creation—however imperfectly—where reconciling love was on full display.
Israel failed. They kept the law outwardly, but they lost the heart of God. They offered sacrifices, but their was no mercy in their hearts. But in Jesus and the Spirit the renewal that the Lord had promised has come. In forgiving our sins, Jesus has taught us the true depth of God’s lovingkindess, of his grace and his faithfulness. And in the Spirit he’s turned our hearts of stone into hearts of flesh. He’s written his law of love on them so that we really can love him with all of our being and so that we really can love our neighbours as ourselves.
But I don’t think we reflect often enough on why God’s done that—in part because we too often think of salvation in selfish, or at least self-centred, terms. Our salvation is not an end in itself. God has called and created a people to witness his heart to the world. Brothers and Sisters, in us God is leading a redeemed people—a people he’s already beginning to set right through the work of his indwelling Spirit—he’s leading us to bring hope and good news to the nations. He’s using us to carry the good news about Jesus, crucified, risen, and Lord, to every part of the world and with it the kingdom, with it the message of new creation, with it the hope of a world set to rights, in which Jesus has finished once and for all the work he began when he died and rose again. In the witness of Jesus and the power of the Spirit he’s given us his heart. And that’s what it’s all about: bearing witness to his heart. And the people who do that, they’re the ones who will one day know him eternally in the age to come.
I like to think of it like a symphony. Jesus and the Spirit have made us the players. We each have our instrument and we look forward to the day when we all come together in the great concert hall to play our parts in harmony and to finally hear that glorious and beautiful piece of music under the hand of the divine conductor. It’s not about us. It’s about the music and the one who leads us in it. But in the meantime, he’s given us the sheet music for our parts and he’s sent us home to practise. And we have the privilege of being able to meet in our little sections to practise some of those parts together. And in our practising we get a foretaste of the great symphony to come. But, Brothers and Sisters, do we actually practise? Are we investing our practise time in the fruit of the Spirit? Are we practising the reconciling love of God that we’ve known in Jesus? Are we practising the justice and mercy we’ve met in God? And along the way, are we drawing in the nations as they hear the beauty that’s present even in our little bits and pieces of the symphony? Or are we wasting the time God has given us on sin? Instead of practising the gospel life, are we investing in the fear and wrath and scrambling and grasping of the present evil age?
Like Gilead, the world around us is filled with evil and tracked with blood. It’s always been that way, but it seems we see it getting closer and closer to home. We’ve seen worsening in the last months and weeks and days in the US and there’s no reason to think we’re somehow safe in Canada. Because this is what happens to a people without the gospel—and to a people who have lost the gospel. And Brothers and Sisters, the worse it gets, the more the world needs the heart of God that Jesus and the Spirit have given us. The more the world needs God’s promise to heal and to bind up our wounds. The world needs Jesus and the gospel and you and I are the stewards of that good news. Don’t be tempted to jump into the violent fray. Don’t throw gas on the fire. Instead, be the wine and the oil that God has made us to anoint the world’s wounds. Show the world what godly justice and godly mercy are and minister the healing power of the gospel—of the good news that Jesus the Messiah has died for us, that he has risen for us, and that he is creation’s true Lord.
Let’s pray: Almighty and merciful God, by whose gift alone your faithful people offer you true and laudable service: Grant that we may run without stumbling to obtain your heavenly promises; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.