Where do you Draw the Line?
a sermon by J. Frederick Ball, OEF
Note: This sermon was first preached at
Grace Presbyterian Church in Little Rock, Arkansas. The text is taken
from a translation by biblical scholar Clarence Jordan:
One day
a teacher of an adult Bible class got up and tested [Jesus] with this
question: "Doctor, what does one do to be saved?"
Jesus replied, "What does the Bible say? How
do you interpret it?"
The teacher answered, "Love the Lord your
God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your
physical strength and with all your mind; and love your neighbor as
yourself."
"That is correct," answered Jesus. "Make a
habit of this and you'll be saved."
But the Sunday school teacher, trying to
save face, asked, "ButÉerÉbutÉjust who is my neighbor?"
Then Jesus laid into him and said, "A man
was going from Atlanta to Albany and some gangsters held him up. When
they had robbed him of his wallet and brand-new suit, they beat him
up and drove off in his car, leaving him unconscious on the shoulder
of the highway.
"Now it just so happened that a white
preacher was going down that same highway. When he saw the fellow he
stepped on the gas and went scooting by.
"Shortly afterwards a white Gospel song
leader came down the road, and when he saw what had happened, he too
stepped on the gas.
"Then a black man traveling that way came
upon the fellow, and what he saw moved him to tears. He stopped and
bound up his wounds as best he could, drew some water from his
water-jug to wipe away the blood and then laid him on the back seat.
He drove on into Albany and took him to the hospital and said to the
nurse, 'You all take good care of this white man I found on the
highway. Here's the only two dollars I got, but you all keep account
of what he owes, and if he can't pay it, I'll settle up with you when
I make a pay-day.'
"Now if you had been the man held up by the gangsters, which of these three -- the white preacher, the white song leader, or the black man -- would you consider to have been your neighbor?"
The teacher of the Bible class said, "Why,
of course, theÉI mean, erÉthe one who treated me kindly."
Jesus said, "Well, then, you get going and
start living like that!"
-- Luke 10:25-37, The Cotton Patch Version of Luke and
Acts: Jesus' Doings and the
Happenings, translated by Clarence
Jordan. (New York: Association Press/A Koinonia Publication, 1969)
Jordan also founded an interracial farm community in Georgia during
the 1950s, called Koinonia Farms.
Anybody could have spotted the Sunday School
teacher in the crowd that day. With his dual-translation,
genuine-cowhide study Bible under his arm, along with a copy of the
church's daily devotional booklet for the July/August/September
quarter. Listening to Jesus with a mixture of agreement and
suspicion, arguing with Jesus internally as he heard Jesus' words,
the man seems to be waiting for a break in the lesson so he can
speak. Jesus senses it, too.
We Are Always Looking to Set
Limits on the Responsibilities of Faith
When the Sunday School teacher asks his
question, we're amazed. It seems rehearsed: Doctor, what does one do
to be saved? It is a basic doctrinal question. Jesus carefully words
his response, knowing that the teacher is really eager to answer own
question: What does the Bible say? The teacher answers. Jesus quickly
says, That is correct. Make a habit of that and you'll be saved.
Perhaps caught off guard, teacher comes closer to his real question
the second time around, Just who is my neighbor?
It is, in essence, a question about limits. How far does this go? Whom does this love include? Family? Members of the Sunday School? In typical debate style, he wants to argue about the terms, the words -- what do we mean by neighbor?
Isn't that our style as well, sometimes?
We're not so crass as to ask, Who is my neighbor? We've heard the
story too many times to be caught in that one. But we find other ways
to tiptoe around and through the call of Gospel, hoping it can be
accommodated to our lifestyle:
"Isn't it better to spend some family time
together than to always be running to church for something?"
"Just what is a tithe, anyway? Do we tithe
on gross or net?"
We are always looking for some way to draw
the limits of the requirements of faith close enough that we know we
can keep them and never be pressed too much.
"Do you have to be there every time doors
open to be good church member?"
"Just how far do you take this give-to-poor
stuff? There's such thing as too much of good thing."
The question really becomes, "How far do you
go? Where do you draw the line with all this?"
Jesus Calls Us to Spontaneous
Neighbor-Love
We listen as Jesus refocuses the question
and tells his story. He will not answer the question "Who is my
neighbor?" but he will answer the question behind the question: "How
do I act as neighbor? How far do I go? Where do you draw the
line?"
Now it just so happened that a white preacher was going down that same highway. As Jesus tells the story, it is more than simply chance that the preacher is there -- it appears to be chance, but it is an example of interweaving of events by divine providence in order to accomplish something greater. The Lord's timing and staging of life is always right for fulfillment of God's plan for us, and the people around us, if we will pay attention. We find ourselves in situations with people because of what God wants to do and say through us. The preacher was on the road when the beaten man needed him.
Life is filled with serendipities. We are constantly meeting people who need us and whom we need. Life becomes exciting when we are free to give ourselves away in each relationship the Lord provides. We should be amazed constantly by the miraculous way God weaves together the destiny of different individuals. Suddenly life takes on a new quality; people with needs are not a burden -- they are gifts from God to allow us to give away what has been given to us. Availability to God, to be the expression of God's spontaneous love, is one purpose of our lives.
The preacher did not see his calling as a
religious person in that light. Instead, what ran through his mind
was probably something more like this: (1) I do not know the man; (2)
I do not wish to get involved in any court proceedings; (3) I don't
want to get blood on my new upholstering; (4) The man's lack of
proper clothing would embarrass me upon my arrival in town; (5) And
finally, brethren, a minister must never be late for worship
services.
The song leader adds nothing new to the
story, but is simply an exclamation point on fact of preacher's fear
of getting involved. What his particular thoughts were we'll never
know, but being a fine musician, as he whizzed past he might have
even been whistling, "Brighten the corner where you are."
Perhaps we should not be so hard on these ecclesiastical figures; after all, in Jesus' day their passing by would not have been a surprise to, nor would it likely be condemned by, Jesus' listeners. The victim on the highway no doubt appeared to be dead, and they were forbidden by the Law from going where there was a dead body -- even if it were one of their parents. The priest and Levite in the original setting simply represent the traditional way religious figures would deal with a situation like this.
Unfortunately, in the mid-20th century
setting of the Cotton Patch Version, the white preacher and the white
gospel song leader also represent the traditional way far too many
religious figures would deal with a similar situation today.
The story calls us beyond understanding what
faith requires and invites us to do what faith requires. Twice Jesus
says, "Act on what you know." As Will Campbell, that radical,
whiskey-drinking Tennessee Baptist who calls himself a "bootleg
preacher" has said, "Discipleship is more important than theology."
Over and over the New Testament stories about Jesus underscore the
fact that right living is more important than right thinking.
The Gospel Call Is to Break Down
Every Barrier Between Neighbors
We have domesticated this Gospel story -- tamed it beyond impact so that the phrase Good Samaritan simply means a do-gooder of one kind or another. We must not miss the fact that the Samaritan was really a despised person among Jews in the first century. Clarence Jordan's translation captures this idea well when he reflects the tension between the races in the South -- a tension which is unfortunately not limited to rural Georgia of 50 years ago. To the lawyers, to the Jews in the audience, there was no misunderstanding at all -- after all, it was a Samaritan village that had just refused hospitality to Jesus and his crew, upon whom James and John wanted to call down fire from heaven. They were half-breeds. They refused to participate in the restoration of Jerusalem and they had aided Syrian leaders in wars against the Jews.
In the Cotton Patch Version of today's
account, the Sunday School teacher is caught in the racial prejudice
of his day. How easy it is to become trapped into cultural patterns
of contempt and suspicion, learned and passed down from generation to
generation!
I mentioned Will Campbell earlier. You may
know that he was here in Little Rock that day in 1957 when the first
attempt was made to integrate Little Rock schools. As the Little Rock
Nine made their way through the crowds to the guarded doors of the
high school, there walked Will, holding the hand of a little black
girl and walking with the group. Among liberal-thinking Christians,
Campbell has become an icon, and he attracts those who want to be his
disciples.
Once a priest in New York phoned Campbell
and said he wanted to come down south and join Campbell's ministry
because he felt called to do something important with his life.
"Where are you now?" Campbell asked.
"I'm at a pay phone in Newark."
"Is it one of those glass booths?"
"Yes, it is," said the puzzled priest.
"Are there any people out there, or are the
streets deserted?"
"There are lots of people."
"Well, son," said Campbell, "that's your
ministry. Now go to it."
There is a temptation to position ourselves,
even as we go about serving. It is the temptation to romanticize
discipleship, to follow the avant garde in ministering to the
fashionable victims. Campbell found a unique and often-criticized
role in ministering to members of the Ku Klux Klan, much to the
embarrassment and consternation of his white liberal friends. But he
saw in the "Kluxer," as he calls the Ku Klux Klan, someone who needed
the transforming power of God.
A few years ago Will was invited to Austin,
Texas, to speak at the installation of a young Baptist preacher.
There, preaching before a crowd full of clergy, the passage he chose
was from Matthew 25, the story of the sheep and goat judgment.
Remember the line? Inasmuch as you have done it unto one of the least
of theseÉ
The question he posed that day was, "Who are
the least of these?" It was a question every person has to answer for
himself or herself, so Campbell cast back over his own life for the
answer. No, the least of these, he finally said, when he had them
completely bound and gagged in the Christian tradition, "are you, my
fellow Southern Baptist ministers. You are the only group I feel
superior to. Jesus died for this: that I might be reconciled unto
you."
We laugh. Until we realize that had Will
Campbell been confronting us with the Gospel message, we might well
have been the butt of his story-telling. We are those whom Christ
died to reconcile to God. We, as much as anyone, are among the
least.
Once we fully and truly recognize that -- recognize our great need for grace, for Gospel, for love, for acceptance -- we will no longer have questions about whether anyone else should be included, welcomed, or kissed in the name of Jesus. And we will no longer be drawing lines to keep our ministry from going forth to any group or to keep any group from coming in to be fully part of this family.
Where do you draw the line? Hear the Good News: God has already drawn it -- a long straight line by which Christ came to be one of us, the divine intersecting with the human. The point at which those two lines meet is the Cross. It has made all the difference.
-- Fred Ball is a minister in Little Rock, Arkansas. He works for the Department of Psychiatry at the University of Arkansas for Medical Sciences in Little Rock, as Research Associate for the Severe Barriers Program, which benefits welfare clients throughout the state. He also serves as the Minister General for the Order of Ecumenical Franciscans (OEF)
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