Colossians 1:1-14 Luke 10:25-37
My husband Paul
occasionally comments on people. He says, “That’s the type of person you want
to have next to you in a foxhole if you find yourself in a battle.” This person
is one who will hunker down with you, when you find yourself in a war,
surrounded by the enemy, with bombs dropping, sirens wailing, bullets flying,
and your life is on the line. Terrified, perhaps even critically wounded, you
see no means of escape, and you long desperately for a miracle. You pray that
someone would save you from the pain, terror, and what appears to be your
imminent death.
Perhaps wounded,
trapped, or just unable to move because of your fear, you are amazed that the
person next to you, perhaps your best buddy or a total stranger, maybe even an
emergency responder, appears by your side. This person, for whatever reason,
has chosen to stay with you, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, until
death do you part or at least until the danger passes.
It is no surprise to me
that my husband Paul often uses such language to describe certain people; for
when he has been “under fire” in school, at work, or at home (I confess that I
can “fire away” with the best of them), he feels as if life is a war. You know
what I mean - you envision a long and happy life in one place, one job, one
relationship, and suddenly something changes. You send your child off to camp
and she never returns. Life is no longer a bed of roses. Your “happy place or
person” is gone.
Perhaps we’ve
grown accustomed to our safe little foxholes when the unexpected happens: a new
diagnosis, a peaceful protest turns violent, an accident takes a life, a flood
causes mortal injuries, and someone we love suddenly dies. We feel violated. We
feel like victims. And we look for someone or something to blame.
The effects of our lifelong battles are not always
obvious. Worries about money, health, and our family members can drain us just
as quickly as any physical wound. Indeed, we don’t need to live in another
country to know the reality of violence on our streets or in our homes. And so,
we hunker down and isolate ourselves from our own communities. It’s safer, we
say to ourselves, to just stay at home.
Jesus was a foxhole person. When the lawyer asked him
what he must do to inherit eternal life, Jesus answered in true rabbinic
fashion. He asked him a question. “What is written in our law? What do you read
there?” Well-educated in his religious upbringing, the lawyer responded
correctly with one big, beautiful answer. Obey the first two commandments. That
is, love God with every part of your being: your heart, soul, strength, and
mind. And while you’re at it, love your neighbor the same way you love yourself.
Sidestepping the obvious challenge about how we
actually love God, our selves, and our neighbors the lawyer tested Jesus once
again. Like a journalist at a white house press conference, he asked another
question. Who is his neighbor? He wanted to know because he wanted to get it
right. Or maybe he just wanted to test Jesus with a gotcha kind of
question. Which, to my mind, begs more
questions. Who is my neighbor? Is it the person in the pew next to you? The
homeless person on the street begging for food, money, or drugs? Is it the
political extremist on your far right or far left? Is it anyone who isn’t just
like you?
Jesus was asking the lawyer if he would be a good
foxhole companion. He wanted to know if he would run away to protect his own
life, or would he hunker down, valiantly fighting the enemy of life and love
for the sake of others? For the love of God and for the love of country, would
he fight for what is right, good, and true? Would she help a stranger while
risking her own personal safety, showing up to volunteer in the flood waters of
Texas?
That lawyer’s one simple question begs more questions.
Will we help those who have been wounded, beaten, and robbed of their human
dignity, for their right to live and love as they do? Will we engage in
respectful dialogue, honoring the choices of others even if they are different
from our own. Will we be brave angels and foxhole companions? Or like the
priest and the Levite, will we just walk on by?
As told in an internet joke, a Sunday School teacher
was telling the story of the Good Samaritan to her class of 4- and 5-year-olds.
She was making it as vivid as possible to keep the children interested in her
tale. At one point, she asked the class, "If you saw a person lying on the
roadside all wounded and bleeding, what would you do?" A thoughtful little
girl broke the hushed silence and said "I think I'd throw up."
Honestly, I would probably avert my gaze, maybe even
feign interest in another direction. I might possibly break into a run or do an
about face. Maybe I would retreat to a safer place. No good Samaritan here
confesses this priest on this Sunday morning in Needham. I might just walk on
by.
Perhaps you are aware of the animosity between the
Jews and the Samaritans during this time in history. In fact, oftentimes, they
would eschew each other’s territories for the sake of their personal safety.
Imagine today how a Jewish person might feel living in Iran or Gaza? Or
conversely, a Palestinian living in Israel? How might our young people feel
about walking on a college campus where anti-semitic words and actions are
prevalent? Where protests or simple large gatherings of people can turn
dangerous?
The point of Jesus’ parable about the Good Samaritan
is pointing not only to the reality of our human choices, when faced with the
people we hate or fear, but Jesus also wanted to redirect our vision to God. If
we are to love God, our neighbors, and ourselves, indeed even our enemies, then
we will not only fight for justice, but we will also show mercy. There is a
wideness to God’s mercy that is often beyond our human reach when we are faced
with war and hate, when we are faced with political vitriol and violence.
In Ladder to the Light, Steven Charleston writes about
a vision he once had:
I saw
an older man standing alone by the side of the road. He kept looking down that
road as if he was expecting a bus, but no bus stopped there. When I mentioned
that to him, he said that he was not waiting for a bus. He was waiting for a
parade. He had heard that if you wait long enough, the parade would come back
down your street. He had missed it before, and he did not want to miss it
again. I looked at him. He was different from me. Different color. Different
religion. He looked a little grubby and he had an accent, but I decided it
didn’t matter. He was a person. I was a person. He needed a parade. I needed a
parade. He had hope. I had hope. So, I waited beside him, looking down the
street in the same direction; and the minute I did, we both heard music in the
distance.” (Xian Century, July 2025, p24)
As they say in the trenches, there are no atheists in
the foxholes. As Christians we can claim that Jesus is in the foxhole with us.
We can show justice and mercy by standing by someone’s side, literally or
figuratively, in our words and in our actions, in our thoughts and in our
prayers. We can remind someone that they are not alone.
In truth, we are never alone; for Jesus promised that
He would send His Holy Spirit to accompany us. Held securely in the palm of
God’s hand, we can trust that this Spirit will provide for us and protect us.
Whether we’re in the thick of battle or experiencing a temporary cease-fire, we
believe that the war is over and that our victory has been won.
For Jesus stretched out his own arms of love on the
hard wood of the cross so that everyone might come within the reach of his
saving embrace. As our own good Samaritan and a faithful Jew, Jesus will carry
us to the inn, where God has many rooms. He has paid the price of our salvation
with his own sacrificial love. We have inherited eternal life through Him.
Until then, as St. Paul wrote in his letter to the
Colossians, “May you be made strong with all the strength that comes from his
glorious power, and may you be prepared to endure everything with patience,
while joyfully giving thanks to the Father, who has enabled you to share in the
inheritance of the saints in the light. God has rescued us from the power of
darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we
have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.”
Through Jesus
we can also fight for justice, show mercy, and walk humbly with our God. We too
can be foxhole companions. Amen.
