July 10, 2016 Luke 10.25-37

Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” He said to him, “What is written in the law? What do you read there?” He answered, “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 he said to him, “You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.” 

But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” 

Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. 

Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. 

So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. 

But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.’ 

Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” 

He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

***

But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” 

I have heard it said, that Baker City doesn’t have a race problem because of its lack of diversity. Maybe that is our race problem. My sister, who is biologically half hispanic, walks into our church, and comments to me, “I am the only minority in the room.” Some will attest to the theory that Sunday morning is the most segregated hour in America; this is a race problem. “Red, and Yellow, Black and White, we are precious is his sight, Jesus loves the little children of the world.” “They’re,” probably at the Catholic Church,” we might surmise but what good is that song when we don’t see the example in our own pews, besides children like my sister who were adopted by white parents. 

Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. 

I realize that this is not the South. We neither live in St. Lewis, nor New York, nor Dallas and I do believe we can say here in Baker, police have not shot a black person, nor has a black person shot and killed police. We can look to nearby cities such a Seattle and child of this church, and officer, Elliot Averett, and see a thoughtful public servant policing integrated neighborhoods and eschewing violence as a person in power. He tells stories of reporting on himself, after a women in frustration accused him of racial profiling. And even after she denied saying it, and refused to file a complaint, Elliot’s report was still filed, taking seriously the history of police discrimination against blacks. We can say everything is fine where we are, here in the Northwest and Pacific Northwest, with race relations, but isn't the privilege to say this, racism in and of itself. The ability to ignore that is happening somewhere, and people on all sides of the issue are dying. Elliot now rides two officers to a car, and was recently issued a bullet proof vest. This may be preventative, but prevention points to an awareness of an issue. 

Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. 

We can say it doesn’t happen here, and turn our eye, but we are Americans and live in country with a history of slavery, of segregation, of discrimination, and of police brutality toward blacks and other minorities. We can say we are Christian, but the church itself is just as much a nefarious institution, with a history of reinforcing slavery, using images of dark and light, black and white, to reinforce an inferior perception of blacks. We can turn a blind eye as Americans going down the road, but is there a correlation between these protests and the now commonplace handheld video recording on phones and police dashboard cameras? We can turn a blind eye as Christians going down the road, but this was the lectionary passage the Sunday after Travon Martin was shot, as it is likewise today. 

So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. 

While some say Black Lives Matter, and others say, Police Lives Matter, and still other’s say, All Lives Matter, what are we really saying when we post on Facebook about police brutality and then tell Elliot thank you and to be safe? Are we being hippocrates, or acknowledging a complicated world, without wanting to ask questions? Are we noticing the man left on the side of the road, but also saying, ‘Not me, I will not care of him. It is not my job.’ 

But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.’ 

“When people say black lives matter, that doesn’t mean blue lives don’t matter, it just means all lives matter. But right now the concern is the fact that data shows that black folks are more vulnerable to these kinds of incidents. This isn't a matter of us comparing the values of lives. This is recognizing that a particular burden is being placed on a group of our fellow citizens and we should care about that and we can’t dismiss it. We can’t dismiss it,” President Barack Obama.

Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” 

Who is our neighbor, as Christians, as Americans, as those in the Northwest, and in our small town of Baker City? 

He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

July 3, 2016 Luke 10:1–11, 16–20

After this the Lord appointed seventy others and sent them on ahead of him in pairs to every town and place where he himself intended to go. Jesus said to them, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest. Go on your way. See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road. Whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace to this house!’ And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you. Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the laborer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house. Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you; cure the sick who are there, and say to them, ‘The kingdom of God has come near to you.’ But whenever you enter a town and they do not welcome you, go out into its streets and say, ‘Even the dust of your town that clings to our feet, we wipe off in protest against you.

***

As a hospital chaplain, if there was one thing I disliked more than anything else, it was knocking on doors. I would hesitate in the hallway, taking a breath or saying a prayer, while listening for sounds that were clues I shouldn’t knock. When there were none, with reluctance I would then lift my hand wondering how hard to tap or bang, and hearing a response, I would slowly open the door. I didn’t want to seem proselytizing, especially to someone who was stuck vulnerable in the hospital. I just wanted to listen and support them, if I could, perhaps learn about someone’s life, or life in general, and if they were game, explore where the sacred was touching their day, but its hard to explain that with a knock. Perhaps, knocking is innately pervasive, perhaps that's why doorbells were invented, perhaps that's why good friends are welcome in without the host having to open the door. But the Seventy are in that knocking place, just like I was, where they are strangers, deciding the nuances between tapping or banging on the door.

In the morning, as a chaplain, I would check my patient census, and after visiting the most critical people, I would look down my list for the people who had marked that they had a religious preference. My hope was that if they were willing to name themselves Lutheran, or Catholic, or Protestant, that they might be less offended by my knocking on the door and introducing myself as Spiritual Care. It didn’t always work, sometimes I left wondering if their only religious affiliation was the clergy they wanted to do their funeral, other times those who listed no religion created the most meaningful conversations of the day. I don’t imagine much difference with the seventy trying to decide on which door to knock. What signs did they look for, a well kept yard, a wreath on the door, children playing outside, laughter echoing out? Did they look for those who already had a religious preference, or for those who didn’t? Did they have the same experience, where, from the outside, they could not tell how or if they would be received? There is unknown on the other side of the door.

My first day I was so nervous I went though the patient census, about thirty people, by noon. I would shuffle in and introduce myself as I was walking backward out the door. I had to learn quickly to look for clues I was being received. Did they offer me a chair, did they look at me when they talked, did they ask what was Spiritual Care, did they offer something about themselves? I had to learn questions to open up that space. Would you like a visit? What brought you here? how long have you been here and how long will you stay? Do you have something you are hoping for when you leave? What's getting you through this day, whats holding you back? Who has visited you; whom are those flowers from? What’s your tattoo about? What’s God been like in this time? I wonder about the disciples’ questions. What was their opening line? I would like to visit with you an tell you about a man I met, would that be okay? Or did they first learn about the people, eat a meal together and then share? How do you imagine the initial conversation going?

Moreover, the disciples are being sent without anything, no money, no food, no extra clothes, etc. They are forced to rely on those who welcome them. As a hospital chaplain we were not allowed to take, “crutches,” as our supervisor called them, no guitars, no pets, no books, just yourself. Without those crutches we couldn’t be distracted from listening and we couldn’t fall back on them to fill awkward or hard spaces. We couldn’t put on a show; it wasn’t about us. The only talking we did was to ask questions and offer prayer. The disciples were being sent out to build relationships with strangers, to support them, and encourage them, and maybe expand with them their imagine of God. This passage, is told from the disciples point of view, but its not about the disciples. And I wonder, when might we do the same?

There are about ten people in this church that could use regular visits, that someone from the church, once a week, has stopped in, maybe for fifteen minutes, maybe for half an hour, maybe an hour while a caregiver takes a break. I wonder how afraid are we to knock on their doors? Of those ten, I know who is inside. Anne Kirkpatrick is ninety-three and visiting her feels like playing a tea party with a kind and mentally astute women. Mike Baker is easy to ask questions, and may give you different answers, but is genuine. Pat Fessel though physically a shadow is still her spunky self. Louise Trapp loves to sit in the sunshine and has lots of stories. I could go on, but you get the picture. It's way better on the inside. Likewise, we have about ninety people who could use a visit once a year. They are for the most part, the people around you, and likewise, they are not so scary. You know this by Carolyn and Tom’s thoughtfulness, by the pictures Ben Merrill posts of his kids, by Zach Allen’s laugh, by Calli’s game face at sporting events, by Katya’s serious music study. Here, this is one of my favorite parts of my job, visits. Last night at the Defrees wedding I literally popped out of my chair seeing Kate Averett and Danny O’Neal former youth group kids, it because we have done those visits. Likewise, I got a big hug from Dr. Bob, who taught me to drive stick shift in a cattle pasture (that's a story). Anyway, find things those people like to do, or show them something you enjoy. We are a church but sometimes we feel like strangers. We get scared of what it on the other side of the door. I bet you it will be something you enjoy. It's not that hard once you get in. But it takes getting to know someone new and it is amazing grace to then be received and then when they walk in these doors you will pop up with that excited face because you know their story and they know yours. So I invite you as strangers to knock on each others doors. Amen.