A sermon for the Fifth Sunday after Pentecost, July 13, 2025. The scriptures are Amos 7:7-17, Psalm 82, Colossians 1:1-14, and Luke 10:25-37.

Do you know what a plumb line is? If, at some point, you see a brick or stone wall being built or repaired, you might notice the workers using plumbline. A plumbline, plumb bob, plumb bob level, or plummet—it’s basically a string with a weight on the end. But when it falls freely, it shows the worker how to build a straight wall. If the wall doesn’t follow the plumbline, then the wall is “out of plumb” or uneven. Today, workers sometimes use lasers to do the same thing, but the point it the same: a useful tool that shows when something is out of line and out of whack.

The plumb line appears in a vision to the Prophet Amos in our first reading. The image is that God is using a plumb line to show how out of whack, how off center, how off course God’s people have veered.  If a plumb line were used in our world today, it might be so far out of kilter that it would even be hard to even see. The distance between what God intends and what our world does seems to widen.

The question for us is, “How are we to respond?”

Clearly, you and I can’t completely bridge the distance or even affect much in the overall imbalance of things, but what can we do, and where are we to start?

Our first reading from scripture is a little hard to follow, since a lot is going on. But basically, Amos, as a prophet, is facing down Amaziah, a priest. Both represent strong traditions and institutions of their day, and the issue is who has the right to speak for God in this place. Amos says he can only do what God says. Amaziah says, that’s well and good, but you’re out of your jurisdiction, “go home and prophesy there.”

While in other visions and conversations Amos has with God, Amon argues with God to show mercy to the people. But this time, Amos does not. He lets God’s judgment stand. The people have forgotten God’s teachings. They’ve stopped worrying about justice and righteousness and are living only for themselves.

Institutions (whether centuries ago, or now) argue over turf and jurisdiction and nuance. While their decisions surely affect us, so often, the actual “getting justice done,” the showing of mercy, kindness, and love happen right in front of us, right where we are, and we are the ones who either resist the way of God’s love or spread it.

A similar point is made in today’s Gospel that includes the well-known story of the Good Samaritan. The story comes in a conversation Jesus is having with a young lawyer.  He asks Jesus his question and Jesus responds by asking him, how he understands the law of God. The man gives the classic answer, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” And then Jesus says, “You’re right, you’ve given the right answer.”

And at this point in the story, I imagine Jesus is ready to move on.  There are people to heal and hearts to reach.  This lawyer seemed to want recognition from Jesus, and he got it, he got what he wanted.  But then, just as Jesus is moving away “wanting to justify himself, [the man] asks Jesus, ‘And who is my neighbor?’”

I love that phrase “wanting to justify himself.”  There’s a lot in those few words.  The translation by Eugene Peterson (The Message) makes the lawyer’s intention a little clearer:  Peterson’s version says, “[But] Looking for a loophole, [th]e lawyer asked, “And just how would you define ‘neighbor’?”

It’s as though the lawyer asks about his neighbor not out of concern for the neighbor, but to justify himself, to make himself look good, to make sure that he’s doing what he needs to do somehow to please God or make God love him.

I stumble on that little phrase because the lawyer’s motivation is familiar to me.  That’s the sort of thing I might ask Jesus—well, which neighbor?  The lady who gets seems to scam people at the intersection or the guy who begs and then goes and spends the money at the liquor store?  Are they my neighbors?  What about the ones in far away places whose pictures are used for fundraising—if I send money, will it get to them?  Should I help those who don’t care a thing for me, or my tribe, or my country, or my religion? (I get creative trying to justify myself and can spend quote a bit of time doing that– all the while, the neighbor in need has either been helped by someone else or has simply vanished.)

The young lawyer wants to justify himself, and so, Jesus then tells the story of the Good Samaritan.  He tells the story to try to explain to the man who his neighbor is and what his neighbor might look like.  But even more, Jesus tells this story to change the focus of the lawyer.  With every word, every look, every move, Jesus has communicated that God is love and Christ brings God’s love to all people.  There’s nothing to do to earn it, or argue for it, or win it, or buy it.  There’s no loophole to exploit. There’s no self-justification. 

Jesus tells the story of the Good Samaritan in an artful and compassionate way to say to the lawyer—“this isn’t about you.”  It’s about helping someone in need.  It’s about service.  You want mystical religion?  You want a spiritual experience?  You want to see God?  Then offer yourself to another in service, and strange things will happen.  You’ll find yourself a part of God’s kingdom—unfolding, transforming, making a new heaven and earth.

Jesus goes on to show how the story of the Good Samaritan illustrates this.  The man going to Jerusalem is robbed and beaten.  A priest walks by but is probably late for an appointment.  Maybe he’s told someone else he would meet them or is expected elsewhere.  He might have good reasons for passing on, but whatever those reasons were, they don’t help them the poor man on the side of the road.

Next a Levite passed by.  The Levites had responsibilities, especially related to the synagogue.  They were busy people. They were important people, and they were concerned with God’s law, too—in macro-ways, in institutional ways, in communal ways.  The Levite might have had very good reasons for passing by, but again, the man by the road is still hungry and hurt.

But the Samaritan does help.  Why?  Somehow, he’s jolted out of his own head, out of his own needs for self-justification or approval. He’s able to move out of weighing the pros and cons of the situation.

What jolted the Samaritan out of his own head?  Out of his own routine?  Out of his own sense of importance?  It may have been that he recalled a time when he had been helped.  Or it may have been because he saw something in the other person that reminded him of someone he once knew and loved. 

Whatever it was that got the Samaritan out of himself must have had something to do with his ability to focus on what was right in front of him. As a Samaritan, he could have been busy in his head rehearsing the old grievances against his people, the prejudice, and fear of Samaritans as outsiders who worshipped a different god and have different customs. But this Samaritan was able to put all of that aside for a moment and simply help the person in front of him.

A few months ago, as I was crossing through the garden, toward the office, I saw Ida, a neighbor from across the street, sitting on a bench, with two men looking after her. One, John is a young man who works as the building superintendent down the street. He had noticed Ida lying on the ground. She had fallen, and he was concerned. He called 911 and as I joined the conversation, we were all trying to convince Ida to go to the hospital and get checked out. During the conversation, John mentioned that his mother and aunt had died over the last few years, and both had been sick, but no one around them really noticed. That’s what he thought of, when he saw Ida.

Eventually, the ambulance came, Ida went to the hospital, and sadly, it turned out that her fainting was the result of a number of things going very quickly wrong with her body. And yet, her sister from Austria was able to visit and spend the last few weeks with Ida, and Ida was taken care of during her final days.

The building super from down the street could have walked on. He could have thought to himself, “Wow, it’s a shame there are so many older people having to fend for themselves. Someone should do something.” I’m sure he was busy and had other things to do. But he stopped. He helped. And in many ways, showed love and compassion to someone he didn’t know, but recognized as a neighbor.

One place, close to home, where the spirit of the Samaritan is practiced is with Holy Trinity Neighborhood Center’s Saturday supper. The supper welcomes in the spirit of the Samaritan as people are received, nourished, and I think, honored as children of God. If you have ever volunteered, then you know what I mean. If you’ve prepared or delivered Thanksgiving dinners, you know what I mean.  And in two weeks, on the evening of July 26, there will also be an opportunity to support HTNC with a Saturday evening Friend and Fund Raiser.

With all that’s going on in our country and our world, it’s tempting to get caught up in the fights among institutions. When we’re confronted with overwhelming needs in the world, it’s tempting to feel overwhelmed and begin to over-think who and when and how we are called to help. 

May God fill us with the spirit of the Samaritan could inspire us to do the right thing, the helpful thing, the loving thing, when and where we can.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.