Moved in our Guts

Sermon based on Luke 10:25-37

I owe many thanks for this sermon to James Alison for his article, ““Like being dragged through a bush backwards”: Hints of the shape of conversion’s adventure.”

Several weeks ago, my daughter found a sick kitten in the backyard.  It appeared that the 3 week old baby kitten had been abandoned by its mother, and had gotten stuck between our fence and our neighbor’s cence in the backyard.

Moved by the sad mewing of the kitten, she dragged me from the kitchen to the backyard.  “We have to help this kitten, mommy.”

But I had to cook dinner.  I had my own people to take care of.  The needs of this little abandoned kitten did not matter to me–they did not move me.

My daughter made it impossible for me not to care.  So we tried to figure out how to get this kitten out from between the fence.  Eventually, and to our great relief, the kitten freed herself, and we found her laying in the backyard.  She wasn’t moving and she didn’t respond to our attention.

I watched something happen to my child in the process of trying to free this kitten and then respond to its condition.  She was moved with a deep compassion, a compassion that came from her guts.  I watched it move from deep inside of her, and pour out of her body.  I watched it move her to take her favorite little blanket and wrap the kitten up.  It moved her to hold vigil next to this kitten every moment that she could in the next few days.  She fed this kitten with a eye dropper, she cleaned her fur, and she nursed her back to health.  And she involved all of us in the house–whether we we fond of cats or not–into the care and vigilance of this defenseless little creature.  And now, yes, we have a 3rd cat living in our house.  And this kitten brings us great joy as she nips at our ankles when we walk and curls up around our necks when we rest.

The kitten–named Lucky–is a constant reminder of the moment I saw deep compassion personified, made real right in front of me.  It was visceral and involuntary, it came from deep within, and it moved her to action.

In our story today, Jesus met a lawyer who had some legal and theological questions for Jesus.  “Teacher” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

You ever thought about this phrase–”inherit eternal life”?  Inherit is a word used by insiders and it is about a wealth that is passed down.  And “eternal life” is a way of referring to the inner life of God.  So inheriting eternal life is about being an insider in the life of God.

And Jesus responded to this legal question by asking a the lawyer two questions–”What is written in the law, and how do you read it?”  Jesus is asking the lawyer not just for what the law says, but how he understands what the law says.

And, like any good lawyer would do, he responded with the law to answer Jesus question.  Although, I want you to note that he did something really interesting with the response.  He combined two texts–he combined the end of the shema (the central belief of Judaism–Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength) with levitical code– “Don’t bear a grudge against the son of your own people, but love your neighbor as yourself.”

The lawyer combines these two verses, and in doing so, he interpreted the law.  And in his interpretation and in his allusion to this portion of the levitical code, he made an interesting definition of neighbor.  According to  the levitical code that the lawyer referenced here, a neighbor is the son or sons of your own people, your own tribe.  The definition of neighbor is limited to your own people–those that are like you.

This definition of “neighbor” which the lawyer has already alluded to makes the lawyer’s next question pretty interesting.  He has his own definition of a neighbor already, but curiously, the lawyer asked  Jesus the question that he answered–“And who is my neighbor?”

In response, Jesus posed a scenario.  He told this well known story of the three people that encountered a severely injured man at the side of the road.  Now, I’ve heard plenty of sermons that focus on how bad the priest and Levite were.  But there’s so much more to this story than the Levite and priest, so I’m not going to focus on them.  I want to focus on the Samaritan today.

You should know that the Samaritan people were not loved by the Israelites.  They shared some common scriptures beliefs and practices, but worshiped at a different holy place, and understood the scriptures differently. Because of these differences, Samaritans were not popular among Israelites.  Jesus could have chosen anyone in this story but chose to use this particular people group in this scenario.

The Samaritan approached the injured man, and was moved with compassion.  The word this for moved with compassion is interesting–it means, more accurately, “viscerally moved” or “moved in the guts” or “gut wrenched.”

The Samaritan was moved in his guts.  The inside of the life of God burst forth out of him.

Perhaps that sounds strange to you–that the inside of the life of God burst out of the Samaritan man.  I’d like to make a strong–albeit gross–case for this.

In temple sacrifice in ancient Judaism, the priest would be part of the animal sacrifices.  As part of that role, the priest would eat a portion of the animal sacrifices–the choicest of the meats.  At certain of the festivals, the priest would eat the entrails of the animal that they were sacrificing.  This piece of the animal–the entrails–was also referred to as the “portion of the lord.”  The guts were the Lord’s portion, and eating them is taking part in the life of God.  This is a reference that the–in the telling of this story–the Jewish community would understand.

In this good Samaritan text, Jesus does a little reinterpreting of the the law himself. Participating the in the life of God–in eternal life–is no longer a priestly act, but something done by the anyone.  It’s especially shocking in this case that this is done by a Samaritan, a member of a people group that was hated by the Israelites.

After Jesus told the story of the Good Samaritan, he asked the lawyer a perplexing question.  You might expect him to ask the lawyer the same question the lawyer asked earlier–“Who is your neighbor?” That’s the question that Jesus was originally asked to respond to.  Instead, Jesus asked the lawyer, “Who acted like a neighbor in this story?”  The question is not who is the receiver of the Samaritan’s benevolence, but who is the enactor of neighborliness.

Or–to say it another way and to relate it to the guts–who is the one living from the inner life of God?  Who’s moved in this guts, from the portion of the Lord, to be a good neighbor?

The lawyer’s answer is–again–a lawyerly one.  It’s a quote from scripture with interpretation.  The lawyer responded to Jesus’ question, “who was the neighbor” by saying “the one who shows mercy,” “or the one who shows compassion.”  Or—to put it another way, the one whose compassion explodes from his guts.

The lawyer responds to Jesus question by referencing Hosea 6:6.  “I desire mercy not sacrifice; the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.”  The lawyer was making a statement about the systems to which he was a part.  The sacrifice system is not what God desires; God wants our compassion.  God wants the inner life of God, the portion of the Lord, the eternal life which we have inherited, to burst forth from us.

And Jesus said what perhaps the lawyer is least wanting to hear–Jesus said, “Go and do likewise.”  Let your guts explode with compassion, let the eternal life that is within you burst forth.  Go and do likewise.  Move from this system of sacrifice to one of mercy.

This is a difficult thing that Jesus is asking.  This is a painful transformation that Jesus is expecting.  Because the more we love, the more our heart becomes fleshy; the more our heart becomes fleshy, the more alive we become.  The more alive we become, the more raw and painful the world seems, even if we also find that the world is more rich and interesting in the process.

Sacrifice is easier than mercy.  Sacrifice has rules and boundaries.  Sacrifice has a beginning and an end.  Mercy has no boundaries, no limits. Compassion does not discriminate.  It cannot be stopped by the rules we have created, or the systems that have been put in place by the powerful.

The story of our family’s encounter with our kitten in the backyard is a simplistic one.  But it was a reminder for me of the kind of heart that God longs for us to have–a fleshy, raw and open heart, full of mercy. A heart of compassion that does not discriminate based on skin color (or fur color).  God longs for us to have hearts of compassion and mercy.

And how does this happen?  I’m still trying to figure all that out.  But here’s what I’m starting to think–we have the heart of God by living into the life of God, by being a part of the work of God.  We have hearts of mercy by engaging in the eternal life of God, the life that is your rightful inheritance, as people of God.   Let us, as people of God, go and do likewise.  AMEN.