But wanting to justify himself, the lawyer asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” And Jesus told her a story.
A man was going down to Des Moines,* and found himself surrounded by bullies, who taunted him with words like “bigot” and “fundamentalist” and “out of touch.” They couldn’t hear, or didn’t believe, the real struggle he had undergone, the real relationships he had tended, the hurt he had experienced in being misunderstood and marginalized. They walled him off, shut him down and went away, leaving him feeling half dead.
A woman was going up to Des Moines, and found herself surrounded by haters who questioned her right to be who she was, the way she was, her place among them, her very existence. They struck her with words like “Biblical” and “tradition” and stripped her of the sense of self, and the sense of call, that she was wearing. Then they went away, leaving her feeling half dead.
Now by chance a pastor appointed to an extension ministry passed by this man and this woman, and saw them both. But she walked on by, fearful of getting involved with either one of them. Who might be watching? Whose support could be forfeited?
So likewise a leadership development minister, when he came to the place and saw this woman and this man, passed by without stopping to talk or offer support. This dispute was outside his job description. He had people waiting to talk to him.
But a ___________________ came near these two souls, and upon seeing them, was moved with love. This individual came close to the one and then to the other, looking deeply upon who they were, at their integrity, at their efforts to be faithful. “Come and sit at my table,” said this stranger, making room, and pouring out wine and setting out bread that they might share at their table and beyond. As they ventured to eat a morsel, followed by a sip, a bit of conversation began among them. They began to be clothed with the stories they shared, of where they had been and what had shaped them, what they had been through and where they had seen God. “Take care of these friends,” said their host to those nearby. “Join in this conversation. And you will be repaid.”
“Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man and the woman who fell into injustice?” The lawyer said, “The one who showed them mercy.” Jesus said to her, “Go, and do likewise.” (adapted from Luke 10.29-37)
Who might you place in that blank? A candidate at the early steps toward ordination? A brand new lay member? One of the young people serving as a page? More important than who fills that blank is Jesus’ charge to the rest of us, who will almost certainly find ourselves tempted to walk right past pain and division, as if it isn’t our place to respond. “Go and do likewise,” Jesus said. This week.
*Perhaps these travels were to attend Annual Conference, the gathering of United Methodists that happens each June in Iowa. This year it starts on Saturday, June 6 and concludes on Tuesday, June 9. More than a thousand clergy and lay members will come together, from every United Methodist Church around the state.
Donna Wise says
I love your post and, in reading it, I think about Annual Conference and the invisible small churches from Annual Conferences around the country who don’t feel that they can afford to send someone to Conference with the expense of hotels, meals, transportation, registration fees, etc. Do we love them? How can we show it? How can we even hear their voices?