Trinity 13

I’ve delayed publishing this sermon from a couple Sundays ago because I know there are typos that need to be corrected, and a couple of things I changed in the actual delivery. For now, here is the semi-final draft, warts and all.

There are two religions: the religion of commandments, and the religion of the cross. The religion of morality, and the religion of the Messiah. Those two religions are entirely incompatible with each other, and they clash in today’s discussion between Jesus and the lawyer, and the ensuing parable.

The clash is revealed in the question Jesus asks the lawyer: “What is your reading [of what is written in the Law]?” The lawyer had asked what he needed to do to inherit eternal life. He summarizes the two great commands: Love God completely, and love your neighbor as yourself. But the lawyer still hasn’t answered the question: How do you read the Law? There are two – and only two – options:

“Do this, and you will live.” Or,

“Believe this, and you will live.”

The first answer, “Do this, and you will live,” reveals our total inadequacy. For who can ever say he has done enough? The Law is comprehensive, and completely overwhelming. Love God with all your heart, all your soul, all your strength, all your mind. And your neighbor as yourself. “Do this, and you will live”? Yes – but who can possibly do that?

In the spring of 1518, there was a meeting called of the Augstinian order of monks, to which Martin Luther belonged. This was about half a year following Luther’s posting of the Ninety-five Theses, which challenged the Roman church’s practice of indulgences – buying the forgiveness of sins with money. At this important meeting, in the city of Heidelberg, Luther spelled out the most important distinction in the Bible. It’s the distinction between the two religions that I mentioned earlier: the distinction between the way of commandments and the way of the cross; the religion of morality or the religion of the Messiah; it is the distinction between Law and Grace: “The Law says, Do this, and it is never done. Grace says, Believe this, and everything is done already” (Thesis 26).

When the Law says, “Do this,” we can never do it! Not the way God demands. There is always a part of our sinful heart that holds back, that loves something else. There is always a part of our fallen mind that is bent on hubris – the prideful desire to be accepted by God and men by our own good deeds, our own contributions, what we imagine is our innate wonderfulness. “The Law says, Do this, and it is never done.” But “Grace says, Believe this,” believe what JESUS has done for you, “and everything is done already,” everything that the Law could demand. All of it is done, all of it is accomplished, every last iota of God’s exacting demand for perfection is satisfied in JESUS.

That is why St. Paul in today’s important Epistle reading (Gal. 3.15-22) makes a clear distinction between the Law and the Promises. “If a law had been given that could give life, then righteousness would indeed be by the law. But the Scripture imprisoned everything under sin, so that the promise by faith in Jesus Christ might be given to those who believe.” The Church in her wisdom has passed down those words from Galatians to be read on the same day that we hear the Parable of the Good Samaritan to make sure we understand the point of the parable. If the law, “Be nice to your neighbor” could save us, then that would be how we become righteous. But, the Apostle tells us, That’s not what the Scriptures say! Instead, the Scriptures tell us that we are sinners through and through, and we look in faith – trust! – in JESUS for our righteousness.

Now we’re in the middle of this long Trinity season, marked by the color green. And unlike Christmastime or Easter, it can seem like there’s no pattern or over-arching theme. But think back to what we heard just two weeks ago. Sem. Kieselowsky preached on the parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector. In that parable, the Pharisee boasted in his own works, while the tax collector presented himself before the LORD with a simple but profound prayer: “Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner.” How did Jesus conclude that parable? By telling us that it was the tax collector who went home justified – declared righteous – not the Pharisee.

Now today, a lawyer asks JESUS a question which is prompted by his desire to justify himself, to show himself to be righteous. So JESUS tells the Parable of the Good Samaritan to show the lawyer – and us – the impossibility of justifying ourselves. It is an impossible story: a man is beaten to the edge of death, stripped naked, robbed, and thrown into a ditch to die. If you stop and help him, there’s a good chance the same thing will happen to you. But instead of doing the sensible thing and running away, the man carries him to safety, pays for his medical care, with a promise that he will pay every future expenses. But here’s the kicker: he’s a Samaritan, and Samaritans and Jews hate each other. This story would never happen. We love ourselves too much; we love our neighbors too little. This story would never happen.

Except it did. JESUS isn’t telling a story about what we will need to do. He is really telling a story about what He does. Christ is the Good Samaritan; He compares Himself to a Samaritan because this was the charge the Jews laid against Him in John 8:48: “Are we not right in saying that you are a Samaritan and have a demon?” The Good Samaritan’s actions show us the Lord’s mercy in action: there is God, coming down from heaven to assume our human nature. And taking on our humanity, He goes to the most fallen, the most last, the most pathetic: he goes to the sinner who is helpless in the ditch, one who has sworn hatred to Him, and He has mercy on that fallen, broken man. That is justification. Not that we loved, but that He loved us.

So you’re in this parable all right. You’re the man in the ditch, and today’s lessons and Psalms are designed to teach you that. The first words from the Psalms today that you sang were these: “O God, why have You cast us off forever?” Collectively, mankind lies in the ditch groaning out this psalm. “God has cast us off forever!” man says; and some, despairing that any help is coming, then disbelieve the existence of a helper, doubt the existence of any god. “If there were a god,” man groans, “why would he leave me in this ditch? Why would he leave us with these wars? Where was he on Sept. 11, 2001? Why does he not visit the suffering, the starving, the peoples ravaged by AIDS?”

But the Second Person of the Holy Trinity became man for all these reasons, to help and rescue man from all the misery we have fallen into. Christ has poured out the oil and wine of the Holy Sacraments so that we would not be cast off forever, but restored to wholeness.

But there’s always a place for good works, even though we can never justify ourselves with them. He has left us who are in the process of being healed to also have compassion and do works of mercy on the wounded who surround us. And the dirty little secret is everybody is wounded; we are all dying, we are all messed up, broken, troubled creatures in need of healing.

Rejoice, dear Christians! The true Samaritan already came to us in JESUS; He took on a true human nature, was beaten and wounded so that He can cure us by His healing remedy. He soothes our wounds with the oil of the holy Gospel; and, because of our remaining sins, He uses the bitter wine of the cross. He carries us upon His shoulders, leads us into the haven of the Church, and lets us be cared for and attended. And whatever You, His servants, use to heal the souls of hurting people all around us, He will richly reward upon His return. May eternal praise and glory be to our faithful Physician! [Final paragraph adapted from Johann Gerhard, Homily for Trinity XIII (Postilla, p. 148)]

Tagged as: Good Samaritan, Heidelberg Disputation, Johann Gerhard, Justification, Luther, Moralism, Trinity 13