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“The Good Samaritan”

Reverend Marion Pruitt-Jefferson

Good Shepherd Lutheran Church  

 Decorah, Iowa

 Scriptures for Sunday, 7/14

John and I thought we had prepared pretty carefully last summer for our 4000 mile road trip. We’d taken the trailer and truck in for service, gotten the tires checked, changed the oil, and we even bought supplemental roadside assistance insurance from a company called Good Sam. For the first two months our travels were, for the most part, uneventful. In the middle of October, we were heading south through Arizona on a busy interstate when one of the tires on the trailer blew out. There wasn’t much of a shoulder, so we limped our way to an exit which was just a couple of miles up ahead. We soon discovered that there were no services there, just a narrow two-lane road and not a building in sight. But there was a wide, garbage strewn, gravel pull out where we could be safely off the road and assess the situation. It wasn’t actually a ditch, but was fairly “ditch-like.” It was 104 degrees that day; but my beloved John is undaunted by such challenges so he got down in the dirt, crawled under the trailer, and released the spare tire. What we didn’t know was that travel trailers such as ours only come with a spare tire, but not a tire iron suited to the size of the lug nuts on trailer tires. No problem, I thought, as I dialed up our Good Sam agent, who, as it turned out, was in a call center somewhere in the western hemisphere – maybe? After 45 very, very, frustrating minutes repeating our information and need for help over and over again, I gave up. (I may have used some special words to express my anger!)

There wasn’t a lot of traffic at this exit, but as I said, John loves a challenge, so he decided to try a kind of charades. Covered in dust and sweat, he stood at the side of the road with our truck-sized tire iron held high in the air, and his other hand pointed towards the much smaller tires on our trailer. It took a little while, but eventually a guy driving a blue Honda Prius pulled over. A tall, rather good-looking man of Native American descent unfolded himself out of the tiny car, lit up a cigarette, opened his trunk, and handed John this perfect little tire iron. John got back down in the gravel and gave it go. But it wasn’t small enough – the tire iron just kept slipping over the lug nut. Observing all of this, the gentleman said, “I don’t live too far from here, I’ll just run home and grab a different one that’ll work.” We protested – thanking him and assuring him that he’d done more than enough. “No problem”, he said, and drove off down the road. 30 minutes later he showed up again, but unfortunately the same thing happened – the tire iron was just a tiny bit too large. Again, thanks were expressed and for the second time, this gentleman said, “Well, I work in a garage about 40 minutes from here. I know we’ve got what you need. I’ll be back in a while.” In a little more than an hour, he was back for the THIRD time – and this time the tire iron worked. John made quick work of removing what was left of the shredded tire and replaced it with the spare. Our real-life Good Samaritan stood quietly, and seemed pleased that he had finally been able to get us the right tool for the job. We thanked him over and over again for his kindness as he got back in his car and drove away.

You know, it’s one thing to dare to pull over to help a stranded motorist, but it’s entirely another thing to keep coming back, over and over again, wasting an entire afternoon until the problem’s solved and the hapless travelers are on their way again. We felt so grateful to the man who showed us mercy.

I know many of you probably have your own good Samaritan stories where someone stepped in and helped you out in a moment of need. I also know for a fact that many, many of you have been the good Samaritan – maybe when you’ve had a chance encounter with someone who needed help, and most certainly when you’ve given your time and money to agencies that are out there on the front lines answering human needs. So I don’t think it would be very helpful for me to tell you to go out and be better, more efficient, more productive good Samaritans. Many of you are already doing so much. And yet, the needs of our fellow human beings are so vast, we can be overwhelmed at the scope of the suffering.

If you listened to the story of the Good Samaritan and felt like God was sending you a message that you must do more, and more, and more to help your neighbor in need, I want to tell you, just don’t go there. Of course, we are obligated to respond, as we are able, to the suffering of our fellow humans – but not to the point that we exhaust our mental, emotional, physical and  financial resources. The commandment is to Love God, and Love our Neighbors as Ourselves. What I just described to you is not the way of love. It is the way of burnout and despair.

We are all traveling on this road of life and we all find ourselves at different points in that journey. Much of the time things go smoothly, but sometimes, especially if we’ve lived long enough, we fall into one of life’s ditches. It could be something trivial as a flat tire in an inconvenient location. But most of us have had at least one major ‘in the ditch’ experience in our lives: the loss of a job, a cancer diagnosis, the death of someone we knew we couldn’t live without, a betrayal that led to divorce, a relentless mental health condition. And in these times of great vulnerability we have been blessed by the compassionate care of the people who showed up to help us. That is the Grace and Mercy of God, clothed in human form.

But I want to speak about a larger journey that we are all traveling together. It is our lifelong spiritual journey that leads us home to God. When the lawyer came to speak to Jesus, it was his concern about that spiritual journey that prompted his questions: What must I do to inherit eternal life? What must I do to make my way safely home to God? Jesus didn’t answer directly, but simply asked another question, which the lawyer answered correctly: Love God, Love Self, Love Neighbor. But that lawyer wanted to justify himself, he did not understand the freedom that we have in God’s way of Love, so he asked for more specific rules – Who is my neighbor?

So Jesus tells this outrageous story about a disreputable person who goes to superhuman efforts to deliver lifesaving care to a stranger lying in a ditch. It defies logic. It’s not humanly possible to do what that good Samaritan did, which is the whole point of the story. Because it is not what we do that brings us safely home to God. We cannot earn our way home to God by following the rules, by doing more, giving more, or being more. We can only make our way home to God by trusting in the Love of God poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit. We journey, not under our own power, but by being lifted up and carried in the arms of mercy. Once we know the height and depth and strength of God’s saving Love for us, then, and only then, are we set free to extend that unconditional, inexhaustible love to our neighbor.

“On Being a Prophet”

Reverend Marion Pruitt-Jefferson

Good Shepherd Lutheran Church  

 Decorah, Iowa

Scriptures for this Sunday

When I was five-years-old, I had my first experience of being called to deliver a prophetic word. A friend had invited me to go to Sunday school with her at her conservative Baptist church. My parents had stopped going to church, but they didn’t care if I went with someone else, so off I went.

I don’t remember much about the Sunday School lesson that day. But when I got home I walked up to my Dad and confidently announced: You have a black heart of sin because you are a smoker! I guess that’s what they were teaching kids about Jesus in those days. After delivering my prophetic message, I immediately saw the flash of anger in his eyes. Then, in a very tight voice, he told me, “You are never, ever going to that church again.” In that same instant I also realized that I had hurt my Dad’s feelings. Now my five-year-old brain experienced a moment of profound confusion. Who to believe? The people at the church who said they spoke for God, or my Dad, who I loved and trusted? It didn’t take me long to realize that my love and trust for my Dad were more important than what I had supposedly learned at church. In judging the condition of my father’s heart and his soul, that church was not speaking for God or Jesus. They got it wrong and so did I. I was, at age five, a false prophet.

Our lessons this morning are about prophets. Narrowly defined, a prophet is someone who is called to speak God’s word of truth – often to people who do not want to hear it. Ezekiel was called to speak God’s judgment upon Israel and Judah, after they had been dragged off into exile. We may not immediately think of Paul as a prophet, but he was called to proclaim the good news of Jesus to the gentiles, a call which, at least initially, met with strong resistance. And finally, in Mark’s Gospel Jesus returns to his hometown, but is rejected  – A prophet is not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, Jesus says. Then he sends his followers out to share in his prophetic ministry of preaching and healing. And he prepares them ahead of time for rejection. Just shake the dust off your feet and move along down the road.

That episode in Nazareth was just a foretaste of the rejection that would happen later. Barbara Brown Taylor, in a beautiful Good Friday sermon writes this: Jesus was not brought down by atheism and anarchy. He was brought down by law and order allied with religion, which is always a deadly mix. Beware those who claim to know the mind of God and are prepared to use force, if necessary, to make others conform. Beware those who cannot tell God’s will from their own. Powerful words indeed for us – living as we are in anticipation of the 2024 presidential election. But I digress … I think the central question for us today is: What does it mean for us, as followers of Jesus, to be prophetic? To be the ones who bear God’s word of truth into the world?

Well, before we jump out of our pews to assume our prophetic ministry, we better understand that God’s Word of Truth is always measured by the One who said, “I am the way and the truth and the life.” Jesus, God’s living Word, is where we go to learn, over and over again, what God’s truth is for us and for the world. And all that Jesus says and does, indeed, all of scripture must be understood through the lens of Love. Martin Luther identified John 3:16 – “God so loved the world …” as the heart of the gospel. The night before he died, Jesus gave his followers the Great Commandment, that they were to love one another as Jesus had loved them. So when we read the bible, we don’t pick out a verse that suits us. Let’s use the example of Paul’s admonition that women should stay silent in church, and proclaim that Pauls’ word is God’s truth for all time. We test that word by looking at Jesus, who honored women’s voices, uplifted their ministries, and included them among his closest friends. Scripture has many, many, words, and not all of them contain God’s truth. Not all of them reveal God’s saving love and mercy. Not all of them can be taken out of their context of First Century Palestine and be dropped into the year 2024 as though they told us the truth about God or about ourselves. That’s why you’re not going to hear me tell you today at the end of worship to pick a buddy and go out without food, or money, or extra clothes, and stay in the homes of strangers and preach the good news. We don’t live in the cultural context where that is feasible. But I am telling you that in Holy Baptism, you and I and all of God’s people are commissioned to proclaim Christ through word and deed, care for others and the world God made, and work for justice and peace. That is a prophetic call. And we are all given a share of God’s Spirit: the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of knowledge, the spirit of joy. The Spirit is our internal guide and compass to direct us in the sharing of God’s love in the world. At the end of worship today, we will all be sent out to love and serve God and our neighbor. How that looks in our individual lives is filled with unlimited possibilities – as boundless as God’s saving love and mercy for all creation.

Certainly there are those among us who have a prophetic call to publicly speak truth to power,  which usually comes as a word of judgment. But that call is always exercised on behalf of others. It is the call to lift up God’s justice by serving as a voice for those who are voiceless. For example, on June 28^th our Presiding Bishop Rev. Elizabeth Eaton issued a pastoral letter characterizing the Supreme court decision to criminalize homelessness as “an injustice that we must reject.” And, she reaffirmed our church’s commitment to caring for the needs of our most vulnerable neighbors. While not all of us are called to speak truth to power, we are all called to be prophets in our very localized setting. Part of that call is to engage in the functions of democracy so that we can use our voice to promote leaders who will act, at least some of the time, within the vision of God’s reign.

That vision is outlined for us in the Sermon on the Mount – in the Beatitudes. “Blessed are the poor, blessed are the hungry, blessed are those who mourn, blessed are the peacemakers, blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness sake …” We heard that echoed in this morning’s psalm. “Happy are those whose hope is in the God … who keeps promises forever … who gives justice to those who are oppressed, and food to those who hunger … who lifts up those who are bowed down and cares for the stranger.” That is the vision we are called to live into. That is the prophetic truth we are empowered by the Spirit to announce in word and deed: That God’s love and mercy are especially directed toward those in need. In theological language we call that God’s preferential option for the poor. It was first articulated by Latin American Liberation Theologian Gustavo Gutierez. It has galvanized entire church movements, energizing them for loving service in the world on behalf of the poor, and bringing needed reform to the church throughout the world.

I don’t know where God is calling you to speak and live and act out the love and mercy and compassion revealed to us in Jesus. Maybe at the food pantry, maybe in our care facilities, maybe in volunteering for a candidate or writing letters, maybe in the hospitality of coffee and treats that enhance our connections with one another, maybe serving as Shepherds or on the Call Committee or the Congregation Council,  maybe in mowing the grass or leading the prayers or singing in the choir or tutoring an English language learner … I could go on and on. Wherever you are called, you can go out in the sure and certain knowledge that God is with you and will supply all that you need as you serve others in the holy name of Love.

Sermon for Sunday, June 30, 2024  

Sixth Sunday After Pentecost

“A Daring Woman and A Desperate Father”

Reverend Marion Pruitt-Jefferson

Good Shepherd Lutheran Church   

 Decorah, Iowa

Scriptures for this Sunday

This is a remarkably powerful and dramatic story about two people who are desperately in need of Jesus’ healing power. Except for their need, these two folks are about as different as they can be. Jairus is a community leader, well known and well respected. He’s married. He has a family. He has a home. Yet in spite of all that, he is in deep distress because his daughter is critically ill – in fact she is dying. No physician can bring his child the healing she needs, so he turns to Jesus and begs for mercy. 

Then there is a woman who is unnamed – as are many women in scripture. She is a person without standing in the community. She is not accompanied by a husband, father, or brother. We don’t know if she even has any family. But we do know that because of her flow of blood and the existence of strict purity laws, she is an outcast – she is unclean and untouchable. She has completely exhausted all avenues of healing that are available to her, so in one bold and daring last attempt to get what she needs, she reaches out to Jesus.

Jesus has just gotten off the boat on the west side of the Sea of Galilee, and crowds of people have already gathered to see him. Jairus makes his way through the crowd and falls at Jesus’ feet – which for a man of his standing is a stunning act of humility – and begs Jesus over and over again to come and heal his daughter. And Jesus, who’s heart is pure compassion and mercy,  agrees and together they start off towards Jairus’ house.

But suddenly there is a disruption. The woman has very quietly made her way towards Jesus, not like Jairus did, coming up to face him directly, but from behind. In secret. Then, in a stunning act of courage, she reaches out and touches Jesus’ clothing. Immediately she is healed. And Just as immediately, Jesus knows it and stops dead in his tracks. 

Jairus was probably frantic at this point – the sort of feeling anyone with a terribly ill child would experience. He had probably wished that Jesus would take off and run with him all the way back to his house. But now Jesus is sidetracked by this needy, disruptive woman. 

Jesus wants to know who touched him. Of course, I think Jesus knows who touched him and was healed. But Jesus wants something more than physical healing for this woman. Jesus wants to see her, to bless her, and to restore her in a very public manner to life within the community. And of course those well-intentioned but bumbling disciples tell Jesus he’s being ridiculous. I imagine that everything must have become very still the moment Jesus asked, “Who touched me?” Everyone was holding their breath, waiting to see what would happen next. 

If I were her, I think I would have hidden myself, and hoped that Jesus didn’t notice me. Maybe try to slink away in the crowd. You see, by being in public, brushing up against other humans, by touching Jesus, she has violated any number of social and moral laws. She would have been expecting public condemnation. But this woman has courage. Even though she is literally trembling in fear, she throws herself at Jesus’ feet, trusting that the one who has blessed her with healing will also now show mercy. In an act of great vulnerability, in front of all those people,  she tells Jesus of the years of suffering, of spending herself into medical debt on doctors who couldn’t help her, of growing sicker and weaker, and being cut off from her faith community and her friends.

And Jesus listened. He gave her all the time that it took to tell her story. He didn’t rush her. He honored her truth. He validated her as one worthy to be heard, to be included, to be restored, to be healed. Jesus addresses her as “daughter” which is a term of endearment, and he praises her faith as the source of her healing. He gives her the credit! Then, he blesses her: Go in Peace, in Hebrew, Shalom – a word which connotes a fullness of well-being, a wholeness, a space in which all is well with one’s heart, and soul, and body and mind. 

Then the friends of Jairus appear to tell him the devastating news that his daughter has died. There’s no need to trouble Jesus anymore … But Jesus looks Jairus straight in the eyes and says: Don’t be afraid. Trust me. Believe. I imagine that Jairus was so overcome by emotion that he couldn’t even speak. So they continued to Jairus’s home where the broken-hearted people are weeping and wailing. Jesus takes a look at this and says, “Don’t worry – the little girl isn’t dead, she’s only sleeping.” You might remember that Jesus says the same thing in John’s gospel when Martha comes to him to tell him that her brother is dead. And they make fun of Jesus – they laugh in his face. 

Jesus doesn’t back down. He moves confidently forward, taking the child’s parents and his disciples and goes into the room where they have laid her. And he touches her – another action that violates the purity codes, for to touch a dead body rendered you unclean. He speaks to this beloved child and says: “Little Girl – get up.” And she does. She is restored to life before their eyes. Restored to health. Restored to her family and to her community. Desperation is turned to joy. Wailing and mourning are turned into dancing. 

Dear friends, where do we go when we find ourselves in the midst of despair? When our health, our resources, our well-intentioned efforts, are not enough? 

I think about the families who have witnessed their homes washed away in the floods in Iowa, Minnesota, and across the Midwest. I think about the people caught up in endless cycles of violence and retribution in Palestine, Israel, Ukraine, Sudan, and Haiti. I think about our own country suffering from such deep mistrust and divisions. I think about the recent Supreme Court decision that allows cities to criminalize homelessness. I feel despair creeping into my soul when I listen to the news and hear of all these things, and more … so much more. 

Like Jairus and this beautiful, courageous, unnamed woman, we must bring all of our sorrow and despair right to the feet of Jesus. Isn’t this why we gather here week after week? This is a place where unconditional welcome is extended to all people, regardless of gender identity, economic status, race, creed, or abilities. This is a place where all of who we are is welcomed into the loving presence of God –  a God who we see revealed in the compassionate, healing, restorative life of Jesus. This is a place where it is safe to be who we are, to love who we love, to offer the gifts God has given to us, trusting that they will be received with gratitude and used to serve others. Let us come to Jesus. Let us bring all of ourselves – our joys and sadness, our hope and despair, our needs and thanksgivings – and offer it up to the one whose steadfast love never fails, and whose mercies are new every morning. Let us come and reach out our hands and allow Jesus to touch all the hurting places in our lives with God’s love. Let us receive all that God has to give in the bread and wine at this table, and then go out to share God’s unconditional love and mercy with the world. 

• Long-time Good Shepherd member Claude Hayes, age 84, passed away peacefully last Sunday, April 7, at St. Mary’s Hospital in Rochester, surrounded by his wife Harriet and their family. 

• Visitation begins at 10:00 a.m. at Good Shepherd. Pastor Dave will preside at the funeral. A light luncheon will follow in the Fellowship Hall.
  • Please volunteer to usher or help with the luncheon set up, serving, and clean up at www.signupgenius.com/go/4090C48ABAF2EA2F49-48980747-helpers#/
• In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made to Good Shepherd Lutheran Church, Decorah Food Pantry, or to your favorite charity in Claude’s name. 
• Claude is survived by Harriet; son Tim (Kristin), Decorah; daughter Heidi (Rick), Shingle Springs, California; son Dan (Sophia), Nicosia, Cyprus; several grandchildren, and two brothers.
• The complete obituary is at www.helmsfuneralhomes.com/obituary/claude-hayes
• Blessed be the memory of Claude Hayes.