"The View from the Ditch"

Excerpt from a sermon by Richard Lischer, at Duke University, reflecting on Martin Luther King, Jr.'s preaching on the Luke 10 story of the Good Samaritan.  Find the full sermon (transcript or audio) here.

In this telling of the story, the question is not, “Are you willing to stop and help?” but, “Are you ready to be rescued?” When Jesus first told the story, his hearers would have identified not with the helper but with the helpee, the man in the ditch. It’s the ordinary Jewish layperson on an ordinary little trip who winds up in the ditch. Thus Jesus is saying, “It’s somebody like you --why, it is you -- you are the man or the woman in the ditch. You are the church in the ditch, the nation in the ditch.” Are you willing to concede that the example of people unlike you may prove redemptive for you? From whom are you willing to accept help? From whom are you willing to learn?

At this point in our history, you could say we’ve tried a lot of salvations. We’ve tried unbridled expressions of rage, we’ve tried conspiratorial theories, we’ve tried rights without responsibilities, we’ve taken refuge in guns -- and we are not saved.

To whom shall we turn? Are there any other options out there? In his day, King made a controversial proposal. On the basis of Jesus’ life, ministry and death on a cross, he suggested that we try to love one another. It’s hard to imagine how the idea of love could be controversial, especially coming from a preacher. But he made it very controversial, because he took love out from under the canopy of the pulpit, where it’s the safe, expected word, and injected it into the realm of social conflict and public policy. He was forever speaking about love in all the “wrong” places: on highways, in pool halls, city halls, fire-bombed churches, even in Page Auditorium (in a university that for all practical purposes was still segregated). When he might have been talking about revenge or strategy, he spoke of reconciliation.

If you think love is only a smoochy feeling that comes with buttered popcorn, King’s use of the word will set your teeth on edge. If you believe love belongs only in private relationships, like romance or friendship, King’s use of it is unsettling. We’re tempted to say that love has no place in a violent world like ours, forgetting that the love of God in Jesus crashed into the political process and submitted to its rough justice. Jesus got himself crucified in a world like ours.

So if we find ourselves reaching up for a helping hand or a better idea this week, the “Samaritan option” is something to consider.

The story of the Good Samaritan is really two separate stories. Viewed from the road, it’s a story of encouragement to reach out to those who are lost and hurting, the way King did in Memphis, the way Jesus did throughout his ministry, the way we do in our better moments.

But this same story, when viewed from the ditch, where all of us have been at one time or another, takes on a different character. It asks an even more profound question: “Despite your own privileged education, your wealth, or your power -- do you understand how God might be using someone or something you never imagined to teach you and make you new?”

Part of the Problem with Blogging about Life...

is captured well by my friend Jason Evans here.

I too have been spending time at the temporary winter shelter at our church for the past month.  And I haven't written about it, even though there are certainly reasons I should have.  You would love to know that my church here took a risk and plunged into service to "the least of these" brothers and sisters: men and women who've been making a life on the streets.  You would get a kick out of some of our conversations and you would be touched by the stories we share and you would be irritated by people's quirks.  That's all part of the experience, but I feel rather strongly that I don't always have the privilege of putting other people's stories on display.  As Jason writes, "this isn't simply a project; it is the names and faces of those that are our guests"-- and I would add, those that are our friends.

However, I can (and should) tell you the details of the project.  For 6 weeks, First Presbyterian Church of San Diego has provided space and supervision for 8-12 guests to sleep each night.  Individuals who had contact with the church and its other outreach ministries applied and were accepted for the duration of the program, so that it's the same little group that has become a family of sorts, night by night.  Each guest puts up and takes down his or her air mattress bed each night, and volunteers from churches around the city take shifts-- hanging out and sharing food in the evenings, cleaning up and clearing the room in the mornings.  This was prompted by conviction about our responsibility as a downtown faith community, in the face of uncertainty about whether the city would provide space for a larger shelter during the damp winter months.  There was a protracted process that culminated in setting up a large tent for housing-- I hear it's a pretty awful place to stay.  I should add that it wasn't easy for the church to make this decision, either.  It was a risk, and not everyone felt we were up to the task.

The question that may be lingering for you now might be "Well, is it working?"  I don't know.  We've lost a couple of the original guests, which was probably bound to happen.  If they miss two nights, they are no longer eligible for the shelter.  One couple sings in the church choir every Sunday morning.  Each person is really quite endearing, but that doesn't mean there's a clear path to anything remotely close to "fixing" his or her life. People are stubborn and people have problems.  People try hard and people have lots of potential.  All of this is true of you and me, and it's true of the guests at First Pres.  We've got a few more weeks; I'll post some more thoughts along the way.

Now that I've blogged and pondered, I suppose that what I'm trying to say is that I'm navigating what I want to say, what has meaning, and what needs to be shared.  The people person that I am just wants to plunge into the stories.  And never fear, I still believe there are stories to be told!  Sometimes, though, I think I need to take a step back and wait a moment to choose a lens that is honorable and just and true and worthy of praise.  I'm learning as I go.