This week in conversations with congregation members, friends, and people at the community meal I have run into a common thread – I heard people looking for God to give answers. I know I want answers sometimes too. I look for answers through prayer, trial and error, deep thought, research, asking friends, I look for answers to know what to do next, how handle a situation, and also how to feel, how to think. We want to know the answer at big transitions in our lives, at critical times. I want to know the answer to why it's been so hot, when the oil will stop flooding into the ecosystems, and when we will find peace in Afghanistan. I also want to know simple answers – will tomorrow be okay? A lot of times as a person of faith I know it is so easy to think – come on God, what's the answer? Show me the path. It's not really a comforting feeling, that feeling of looking for answers.
It is so common, so human to want an answer- and this lawyer questioning Jesus is no different. But is this the way that Jesus thinks and acts? In terms of answers? Because if we look at the whole passage, does Jesus ever give a straight answer to the lawyer? The lawyer questions him and Jesus turns it right back to him with more questions. We think that Jesus, our savior, will be the source of simple answers, easy to digest. Some preachers or denominations will try to boil it down to just that – to simple answers – yes/no, black/white, numbers and figures – and not all of them are wrong – but is that who Jesus is? If you read the gospels Jesus most often seems almost. . . evasive. People question him, from his closest disciples to Pharisees, and it is rare he gives a straight answer, and hardly ever a yes or no. Woody Allen joked that he got so frustrated by this in the Jewish tradition that he went in and asked the rabbi, “Why does a rabbi always answer a question with a question?” To which the Rabbi answers, “Why shouldn't a rabbi answer a question with a question?”
The lawyer calls Jesus rabbi, teacher, and asks him a question, and indeed he gets questioned right back. Jesus' response, “you have given the right answer, do this and you will live,” doesn't even seem like enough. Like the lawyer, I know I would still have more questions, and even the simple answer doesn't seem to cut it. It's like the children's book When you give a mouse a cookie, where one answer leads to endless questions. It's like when parents respond to kids of any age with a simple answer – no. And the child asks almost as an immediate response – why? So is just the answer really what we're after? To explain a point Jesus doesn't give an answer but a story. This familiar story. But it's a shocking story.
And it's a shocking story about a man who is left for dead and the person who would be thought by the culture to be most hated, most foul, a Samaritan, comes and saves that person. The Samaritan goes out of his way, conquering death by participating in this story, by not letting it end there, and keeping the story going. In this story the shock is that strength and care, come from the last place, the last person you'd expect. In the shocking and surprising nature of this story God's mercy is revealed – to the lawyer, but also to you and me.
But I can't help but think that this is also part of a larger story, and it's just as shocking. It's a story about a man, who is also God, who is left for dead. And the savior who would be thought by the culture to be invincible, regal, exalted, no one saves him, he dies. Jesus goes out of his way, all the to his own death, conquering death by participating in our stories, by not letting our stories end there, with bondage to sin and death. From death, from the cross, we find strength and care from the last place you'd expect. Christ's power comes from weakness and in the shocking and surprising nature of this story God's mercy is revealed.
Sometimes I think that Jesus' story has become so near, so common to us that we forget how shocking it is. We treat it as if it's just a story and we know the answers, we know the ending. But it's not the ending.
Jesus doesn't often give us simple answers, and sometimes it feels like God doesn't give us answers but more questions. And that is okay. Because in this shocking story of Jesus' life, we have all the answers we need. As cliché as it might sound, Jesus is the answer. And the answer isn't just one word, but this beautiful, shocking story that God came, loved, taught, and died for you, that you may live. This is your story, and it's not over.
Because what these stories say, is that God works in surprising ways and that God is still working on you through these stories. We might think we are looking for answers, but I think we are longing to hear the story. Faith is about stories. Mercy, love, forgiveness, faith, they all are revealed to us deeply in the stories of our scripture.
It is really powerful to me that Jesus is not interested in whether we have the right answers. There is not going to be any quiz. The pattern of God's interaction with people over all time and Jesus' interaction talking to this lawyer isn't about lecturing you or making sure we fill up your minds with the right answers. Jesus wants to share his story, but even more, Jesus moves through the Holy Spirit to be a part of your story, to ask you questions. Your dialogue with God isn't one-sided – this isn't a lecture but a conversation. God wants to dialogue with you your whole life long.
In today's story Jesus shows it's alright to ask questions, it's alright to want the answer, and what comes might not be the answer you expect but a story. And in that story, the Holy Spirit moves, opens your heart, shows you mercy and love. Our God, is about something deeper than simple answers. Stories are a real fabric of who we are. I'm sure you have experienced this in very real ways. If you read about someone on a page, they might seem like just that – a set of simple interview answers about their life – and it's not living. But if you sat down had a cup of coffee with them, asked them questions, heard their stories, and vice versa, then you really know that person. By telling stories you feel mercy – real mercy for a person.
I am working on getting to know the story of Christ Lutheran and as I am, I hear a story of God's work in the world through this church, through you. When you share your story with me or with anyone else, there you are participating in the love and neighborly mercy of Christ. By pausing your day to hear someone's story, a close friend or a stranger, they become a part of your story, and you of theirs, and you are opened to them in a deeper way than any simple answer could provide.
Here at Christ Lutheran the Holy Spirit moves when stories are shared between friends, through you, through the ministries you provide, through your presence in the community. The Holy Spirit opens up our neighborhood to the whole world hear the stories and show mercy to those further than your own block, but also to not forget those who are near.
God reveals God's very nature not through simple answers but through beautiful stories of surprise. Stories like this one of the Samaritan are meant to be surprising, reminding us that Jesus' own story is surprising, illogical even, because love is surprising, and love isn't about logic. Jesus' story is not abstract but it continues here today, with you. Because of Christ's story, in the name of Jesus you are forgiven all your sins – the best news of the week. In Christ's story you participate actively, receiving his body and blood at his table. God knows your story and God will always be a part of it. Our God is a God not of simple answers but of ongoing stories, your story. Just as the Samaritan molds the story of the man beaten by robbers and conquers death for him, God molds your story, claiming you and conquering death for you now, forever. Amen.
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