Luke 10:27 “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind; and thy neighbour as thyself.”

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

Today’s Gospel begins with a question: “Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?” It is a serious question, but it is also a revealing one. The lawyer asks what he must do, as though eternal life were a prize to be earned or a possession to be secured. Our Lord answers by directing him back to the Law: “What is written in the law? How readest thou?”

The lawyer knows the words. He answers correctly: love God with all your heart, soul, strength, and mind, and love your neighbour as yourself. Jesus says, “Thou hast answered right: this do, and thou shalt live.” The heart of the Law is love: wholehearted love for God, made visible in merciful love for another person.

But the lawyer is not finished. St. Luke tells us that he is “willing to justify himself.” So he asks, “And who is my neighbour?” That question tries to draw a boundary. Whom must I love? How far does my duty extend? Who is included, and who may safely be left outside?

Our Lord does not answer with a definition. He tells a story.

A man travels from Jerusalem to Jericho and falls among thieves. He is stripped, beaten, and left half dead. A priest sees him and passes by. A Levite also sees him and passes by. Then a Samaritan comes near. To the lawyer, a Samaritan was not the obvious hero. He was an outsider, someone easily regarded with suspicion or contempt. Yet he is the one who sees the wounded man and is moved with compassion.

The Samaritan does not merely feel sorry for him. He crosses the road. He binds the man’s wounds. He pours in oil and wine. He places him upon his own beast, brings him to an inn, cares for him, and promises to return. His mercy costs him time, comfort, money, and inconvenience. Compassion becomes action.

That is one of the searching truths of this parable: all three travellers saw the wounded man, but only one truly became his neighbour. The difference was not eyesight. The difference was mercy.

We can understand why the priest and the Levite passed by because we know how easily we do the same. We are busy. We are tired. We are uncertain what to say. We fear becoming involved. We tell ourselves that someone else is better equipped, that the situation is complicated, or that the need before us is not really our responsibility. Sometimes we pass by with our feet. Sometimes we pass by with our silence. Sometimes we pass by while remaining outwardly respectable and religious.

The parable therefore warns us that correct worship and correct belief must bear fruit in a life of mercy. Our reverence at the altar is not separated from our conduct beyond the church doors. The Christ whom we adore in the Holy Sacrament is also the Lord who meets us in the wounded, the lonely, the poor, the frightened, the grieving, and the spiritually lost.

Yet this Gospel is not simply a command to try harder and become nicer people. If we hear only, “Be like the Samaritan,” we may turn the Christian life into another burden of self-improvement. The deeper truth is that before Christ commands us to show mercy, He shows mercy to us.

Our condition is not unlike that of the man beside the road. Sin has wounded us more deeply than we can heal ourselves. We cannot rescue ourselves by good intentions, religious respectability, or moral effort. The Son of God came near to us when we could not come to Him. He took upon Himself our suffering and our sin. Upon the Cross, He paid the cost of our redemption. In the Resurrection, He opened to us the way of everlasting life.

We do not love in order to persuade God to save us. We love because, in Christ, God has first loved us. Good works do not purchase grace. They are the fruit of grace. Mercy does not earn eternal life. Mercy reveals that the life of Christ is taking root within us.

This is why the command is so complete: love God with all your heart, all your soul, all your strength, and all your mind. Christ does not ask for a small religious corner of our lives. He asks for the whole person. And when the whole person is offered to God, love for our neighbour follows. The two commandments cannot be pulled apart.

Who, then, is our neighbour? Our Lord turns the lawyer’s question around. The issue is not, “Which people qualify to receive my love?” The issue is, “To whom will I become a neighbour?” The answer may be someone close to us, or someone we would rather avoid. It may be the person whose need interrupts our plans, whose story is difficult, whose opinions differ from ours, or whose wounds are hidden beneath anger, fear, or loneliness.

Christian love does not require us to approve of everything another person does. It does require us to refuse hatred, contempt, and indifference. It requires us to remember that every person bears the dignity of one for whom Christ died. The neighbour is not merely the person who resembles us, agrees with us, belongs to our parish, or returns our kindness. The neighbour is the person whom God places before us and calls us to serve.

Most of us will not find a wounded traveller lying beside a road this week. But we may find someone who needs a patient listener, a meal, a ride, a telephone call, forgiveness, prayer, or the courage of a Christian witness. We may meet someone who needs practical help, or someone starving for the hope of the Gospel. Holy love begins by seeing. Then it draws near. Then, by God’s grace, it acts.

So let us ask the Lord for three gifts: eyes that truly see, hearts that are moved with compassion, and hands willing to serve. Let us ask Him to free us from the need to justify ourselves and teach us instead to depend upon His mercy. And having received mercy at His hands, let us carry that mercy into the lives of others.

At the end of the parable, Jesus asks which of the three proved neighbour to the wounded man. The lawyer answers, “He that shewed mercy on him.” Then Jesus says, “Go, and do thou likewise.”

Not so that we may boast. Not so that we may earn God’s love. Not so that others may admire our goodness. We go and do likewise because Christ has come near to us. We show mercy because we have received mercy. We love because He first loved us.

May the love we confess with our lips, receive at this altar, and behold upon the Cross be written upon our hearts and made visible in our lives.

Let us pray.

Heavenly Father, open our eyes to see those whom the world passes by. Fill our hearts with the compassion of thy dear Son, and strengthen our hands for works of mercy. Deliver us from pride, indifference, and fear; and grant that, having received thy grace, we may gladly share thy love with all whom thou dost place in our path; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.