If the disfigurement of the broken
is too much to face,
a problem for another day;
Be forewarned, that could be you tomorrow
and what would be worse
If Jesus walked away?

You know how I love a good prop for a sermon. Today you’re going to get a little more than a sermon. You’re going to get a little extra Jesus. I’m sure you know the difference. Sometimes I just talk about the scripture, but today there’s going to be an application so pay attention. I’m going to use a prop today. The prop is… my face. I know you’ve been looking at me wondering, “What happened to Father Jon and why isn’t Lynne (his wife) here today?” It has nothing to do with anything between us. I’ll show you what happened, because it made me think about last Sunday when I preached on the parable of the Good Samaritan.

On Friday I was minding my own business, walking down Seminole Boulevard, and I wandered into a certain building. Three women assaulted me! They grabbed me, flung me into a chair, took out their tools, and started cutting my face. Then they left me there and said, “It’ll take an hour.” I felt abandoned, just sitting there, utterly taken advantage of. Now, as much as I want to dramatize a trip to the dermatologist, that is not what happened in today’s gospel. But on Friday I was thinking about being bruised, intentionally, voluntarily, and it reminded me of that man in Jesus’ parable who was lying on the side of the road, minding his own business. Robbers came, humiliated him, beat him, maybe even cut him. They left him for dead, much longer than an hour.

We live in a culture that enjoys a good story about victimhood. If we were naming this parable today, we might have called it “The Broken, Robbed Man,” but the church didn’t call it that. In fact, Jesus didn’t name His parables at all. He didn’t say, “This is the Parable of the Prodigal Son” or “The Parable of the Good Samaritan.” We came up with those names. We also added the chapter and verse numbers to the Bible for our own reference. That’s useful, but it can also frame the story in a way that limits what we see in it.
In this story, there’s the priest, the Levite, the Samaritan, the broken man lying on the road, and even the innkeeper who cares for the man on behalf of the Samaritan. One of the marvelous things about parables is that they invite us to imagine not only where we are in the story, but also where God is. Yet I wonder how many times we’ve read this text and thought only about the Samaritan, when there is so much more here.
The Levite was the master of the law, the one who knew the moral codes. The priest was the one who supposedly knew God’s will and should have shown compassion. And yet… they walked by. The Samaritan, the outsider, was the one who stopped. And stopping takes resources, time and money. The Levite didn’t give either. The priest didn’t give either. It’s easy to look at them and think, “The gall of these men! Their position, their status, and they just walk by.”

I think of times when I’ve been on I-75 going 79 mph, because we all know the ‘hidden rule’ about speeding, and I see someone on the side of the road. It’s hot. They’ve got the jack out. I know they’re struggling. Do I stop? When I was younger, I might have, but now I might think, “It’s not safe… I don’t have time.” The road from Jerusalem to Jericho was like that, steep, winding, dangerous. No streetlights. No highway patrol. No AAA. You waited until someone came along… and hoped they’d stop. Why was this man traveling alone anyway? Didn’t he know the risks? Maybe the Levite and priest even thought, “He brought this on himself.” Wait a minute, were they not also traveling by themselves? Did they not sense the hypocrisy in this observation?

One of the worst feelings in life is feeling like you don’t belong. I hope everyone here today feels like they belong to the family of God. That’s exactly what we intend for this church to be. But what if, during coffee hour, you tripped, hit your head, and fell… and everyone just walked around you? You wouldn’t expect that here, because we know each other and care for each other. Yet in the parable, two people, who should have been all about the invitation of belonging, walked by a man who desperately needed help. The priest. The Levite. Both gave the message, the optic: “You don’t belong.”

The Samaritan, despised by the religious elite, is the one who stopped. We all have strong opinions about outsiders, political, legal, compassionate, and we all have limits on how much we can open ourselves to others. This is not about politics. It’s not about a collective group of travelers. It is about this lone person lying on the road, who is truly in need.

When we read scripture with fresh eyes, the Holy Spirit often shows us something new. So, are you the person on the road? The Levite or priest who walks by? Or the Samaritan who stops? Remember Jesus’ two great commandments: Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, strength, and mind, and love your neighbor as yourself. Remember the question: Who is my neighbor?

What if this story isn’t just about us? What if Jesus is the Good Samaritan, the one who comes into the world as an outsider, the one who does what no one else could do, the one who binds up our wounds, carries us, and pays the price for our healing? He came for priests, Levites, broken people… for you and me. He came to show us where we belong, in His care, in His kingdom, in His family. If He is the Good Samaritan, and He has entrusted us with this Good News, why would we ever walk away from those who are our neighbor?