The Power of a Good Story: A Sermon for Proper 10

 Back when we moved to Jacksonville, Emily had to go before the St. Augustine Presbytery’s Commission on Ministry for an examination, which was part of the process for her being approved to serve as a minister there.  This is a common procedure for clergy to undergo when they move from one Presbytery or Diocese to another. Essentially, it is a way for the Diocesan or Presbyterial leadership to ensure that the newly hired clergyperson will play nicely with others. 

Now prior to her examination, Emily was sent a three-page list of questions that she would need to be prepared to answer in front of the committee. The questions were along the lines of "What distinctive elements of the Reformed faith would you describe as “essential,” and how do they impact your life and ministry?" and "What is the place of the sacraments in worship (in terms of both your theology of worship and the placement in the order of service)?"  

Great conversation starters. 

Well, long story short, Emily passed her examination, and she was allowed to keep the job she already had at Lakewood Presbyterian Church. 

Now when Jesus was faced with going before committees to answer tough questions, the stakes were usually a little bit higher, because it wasn’t his job that was on the line…it was his life. And when the Pharisees, the Temple authorities, or the Roman authorities were questioning him, they were usually attempting to trap him, or better yet, to see if he would trap himself by giving the “wrong” answer. They did this to Jesus because they didn’t trust him. Even though he was a devout Jew, they weren’t convinced that he was on the “right” side of things.

The tough question that Jesus is asked in today’s lesson is posed by a lawyer who employs the same strategy that these other folks used. It appears that he wasn’t truly longing for a deep conversation with Jesus about matters pertaining to eternal life. It appears that he was simply testing Jesus to see if he was one of them or not.   

When answering the lawyer about what one must do to inherit eternal life, Jesus turns the tables and responds with questions of his own: “What is written in the law?  What do you read there?” which was a good start. After all, with his conversation partner, if he stuck to the law, he’d probably be safe. So, the lawyer answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” Jesus agreed with the lawyer, and my guess is that he was hoping that that would be the end of the interrogation so that he could continue his journey towards Jerusalem.   

But the lawyer kept at it, and followed up with the question, “And who is my neighbor?” He likely had a list in his mind of who the acceptable neighbors were in those parts, and he wanted to see if Jesus’ list was the same. After all, you can tell a lot about somebody by looking at his or her list – they are easy ways for us to size one another up. And this lawyer doing just that - testing Jesus to see if he was one of them or not. If he could get Jesus to claim just one outsider to the Jewish community as a neighbor, he would have confirmed his suspicion. This guy Jesus is not “one of us.” 

But as usual, Jesus is a step ahead of his antagonists. This time, Jesus doesn’t respond with a list. He responds with a story. And as it turns out, this story is one of the best-known stories that Jesus ever told. Folks who have never even graced the door of a church know the story – or at least the premise of the story – of the Good Samaritan. And I think that it has stood the test of time because like any good teacher or therapist or spiritual director, Jesus invites his conversation partner out of the world of easy answers and into the world of narrative. Because with narrative, we as listeners have the opportunity to be invited into the story, and participate in the truths it may reveal, shocking though they may be. In this case, the shocking truth is that it ended up being a Samaritan – an outsider - who was the answer to the lawyer’s question, “Who is my neighbor?” But how would this truth have gone over if Jesus had simply responded to the lawyer’s question by saying, “Samaritans are our neighbors” without inviting the lawyer into a deeper narrative? I’m guessing not so well. 

So perhaps our primary takeaway from today’s lesson isn’t to go and do charitable deeds. Of course, compassion and mercy are essential to our callings as Christians. But eternal life is more profoundly complex than simply doing good deeds. Rather, I wonder if our “going and doing likewise” is more about entering into the world of narrative with other people and allowing ourselves to be transformed by these encounters. After an initial, rather testy exchange with the lawyer, Jesus decided to go deeper into the world of narrative, and the lawyer put himself in a position to be transformed by that encounter, which potentially changed his life forever. For us, going and doing likewise might involve allowing ourselves to be transformed by narratives – both in telling them and listening to them.   

Over the past few days, Episcopalians from all over – including our very own Deacon Ed - have been gathered in Baltimore for our triennial General Convention, where, among many things, we conduct the legislative business of the church. Sadly, due to the recent rise in Covid-19 numbers, the convention was significantly shortened, and what was determined to be the “non-essential” items on the agenda – including fellowship – were mostly removed.

A drawback to removing the time for fellowship at events like this is that we don’t have as many opportunities to discover who our fellow Episcopalian neighbors might be. The person who was on the floor proposing legislation that you vehemently disagree with remains just that – a person on the “other side” of an important issue. Opportunities for conversation, shared meals, and sharing our stories with one another are greatly reduced.

These days, we don’t have to go as shockingly far as Jesus does in today’s parable to make the same point. Samaritans and Jews were not of the same tribe so to speak. To suggest that they could be neighbors was scandalous. Today, our deeply ingrained divisions and suspicions are within our very own tribes. The United States is one obvious and worrisome example. And sadly, so is the Episcopal Church.

Perhaps one reason I have never wanted to attend General Convention is because of my fear of possibly learning that I don’t have as many neighbors in my tribe as I once thought. Might I have to come face-to-face with Episcopalians who I wouldn’t ordinarily see as my neighbor? Might my own assumptions and beliefs be challenged by my very own sisters and brothers in Christ in a way that makes me uncomfortable, or even angry?

In reading the reports coming out of General Convention, Episcopalians like you and I have been wrestling with the question of “who is my neighbor?” as well as, “How do our actions embody who we say our neighbors are?” How might this parable help a church that in many ways mirrors our country in terms of our divisions. How might this parable shape the thoughts and actions of us who are not in Baltimore at the General Convention? 

We are bound to encounter somebody this week with whom we disagree on a whole host of issues – whether it be from within the Episcopal Church and well beyond. Social Media is filled with bravado-filled one-liners from people on both sides of any hot-button issue. Will we allow ourselves to step away from our computers - where individual opinions rule the day - and enter into the much more nuanced, complex world of narrative with someone who we initially might not consider to be our neighbor? 

Usually, when you make yourself vulnerable enough to share these types of experiences, it opens the door for deeper, more transformative encounters with one another, and with God. 

The lawyer in our story today oftentimes gets a bad rap, and I gave him a hard time a little bit earlier. But I must hand it to him. When Jesus launched into his story about the Samaritan, the lawyer hung in there with him. And by the end, when Jesus followed the story with the question, “Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” the lawyer’s response revealed to Jesus and reveals to us the power of a good story. Let us go and do likewise.