It occurred to me that the parable of the Good Samaritan could be a good For Life parable. Almost simultaneously, I thought how tempting it would be for good, solid, life-affirming folks to point to the Good Samaritan walking along the road and say, “You’ve got to be like him.” Pastors might say it their congregations. Members of congregations may say it to their pastors and to one another. “You’ve got to be like him. He was pro-life! You’ve got to reach out to the vulnerable. You’ve got to protect and defend the unborn, help those in crisis pregnancies, reach out to those hurting because of wrong choices, show compassion to those suffering with chronic diseases, disabilities, and terminal illness. Yes, be pro-life like the Good Samaritan.”
Inherent in such admonitions may be a slightly arrogant attitude. “I am like the Good Samaritan. I’m pro-life. I am so pro-life that I know truly pro-life people do not use the phrase pro-life anymore, but ‘life affirming.’ I’ve got it right. You need to be like me.” Yes, it is tempting to start there. A lot of folks do. “Be like the Good Samaritan who walked along the road.” But Lutherans can’t start there. We need to start in the ditch.
If we are going to be like anyone in this parable, we need to start by being like the man in the ditch: beaten, bleeding, helpless, forsaken, and left for dead.
We have a lot of ditches in Iowa. In the winter they are often filled with snow. The wind blows that snow into white waves—drifts of varying shapes and sizes. As long as they do not engulf the road in front of you, they can be quite beautiful. But if we have one of those “January thaws,” the beauty melts away. The melting reveals dirty snow, rotting animals, garbage, used diapers, and a variety of empty adult beverage containers. The ditch is a filthy place to be.
But that’s where we need to start. We need to be people of the ditch. For when you melt away the facade of our self-righteousness, it’s pretty dirty in there. We see a corrupt and rotting nature, one that is beaten, bleeding, helpless, forsaken, and left for dead. But that’s good. Because then, when we realize our utter depravity, we might just be able have a very finite understanding of the infinite compassion shown by this Guy who came walking along the road. He didn’t have to show compassion. He didn’t even have to stop. But He did stop. Then, astonishingly, He got down in the ditch with us!
Several years ago I received a letter from a post-abortive woman and I have been quoting her ever since, especially the part where she wrote, “I never realized that Jesus Christ was willing to get down into my muck and miry life and lift me up out of the sewage of my problems. He has since shown me who He really is.” Jesus is not only willing to get down into our mucky and miry lives, He did. He came into the filthy ditch of our lives as He hung upon a cross, beaten, bleeding, helpless, forsaken, and left for dead. He absorbed the filth of our sin into Himself. He heals our wounds with His wounds, stops our bleeding by His blood, prevents our death by dying, and lifts us up and gives us new life through His resurrection from the dead. He covers our impurity with His purity as the snow in Iowa will undoubtedly cover those filthy ditches in white once again. “[T]hough your sins are like scarlet, [ditch-dirty] they shall be white as snow” (Isaiah 1:18).
He brings us in to this “whiteness,” this new life through faith in the waters of Holy Baptism. He provides for our continued healing and growth as we recall that Baptism and as we share in His holy meal. He sets us back on the road with the certain hope of our own resurrection and eternal life always before us.
Now we can walk along the road and be like the Good Samaritan, or more precisely, be like Christ, or more precisely yet, be Christ who, by virtue of our Baptism, lives within us. As we walk with resurrection hope before us, we keep our eyes in the ditch. We look for the lost, the beaten, the bleeding, the helpless, the forsaken. When we see them, we dare not walk by on the other side. We cannot walk by on the other side. We cannot pick and choose. We cannot look at certain of the vulnerable and say, “That’s too controversial, I’m not touching that.” We cannot look at certain of the vulnerable and say, “That’s a political issue, I’m not touching that. It might make me unclean. People might not like me. We could lose our tax-exempt status.” The love of Christ does not tell us we should reach out to all the people of the ditch; the love of Christ compels us to do so.
So when we see the embryo “in the ditch,” in that petri dish—vulnerable, helpless, and destined for destruction—we are compelled to speak and defend and help. And not because it is the right thing to do or the moral thing to do, but because it is the Christ thing to do. Our God became incarnate as an embryo, giving value to all embryos.
When we see the unborn “in the ditch,” vulnerable, helpless, destined for destruction, we are compelled to speak and defend and help. And not because it is the right thing to do or the moral thing to do, but because it is the Christ thing to do. His hands that were pierced and the body that died and rose again were formed in a womb giving value to all who have resided there.
When we see the young woman in a crisis pregnancy “in the ditch” vulnerable, helpless, feeling destined to make only one choice, we are compelled to speak and defend and help—because it is the Christ thing to do. As He got down in the ditch with us, we get down in the ditch with her. We lift her up and offer Christ’s compassion in real practical ways.
When we see the post abortive women and men “in the ditch” vulnerable, helpless, destined perhaps to their own destruction, we are compelled to speak and defend and help—because it is the Christ thing to do. As Christ, we get down in the ditch with them. We offer healing that can only come from the objective and complete forgiveness in Christ. We lift them up and walk beside them.
When we see those suffering from disease or disability “in the ditch” vulnerable, helpless, destined by many to assisted suicide or euthanasia, we are compelled to speak and defend and help, because it is the Christ thing to do. For Christ reveals a God who knows about suffering not just because He’s God, but because He suffered. We have a message of a God present in suffering, at work in suffering, accomplishing His purpose in suffering.
As we “walk along the road,” we do so as citizens of this country. We are compelled to pray for our president, our representatives and senators, our supreme court. We pray for change in our policies and laws and in the attitudes of those who make them.
But we also walk along the road as citizens of heaven. We walk united in Christ. We walk remembering our unique perspective as Lutheran Christians. For we know what it is like to be in the ditch, and we know Who came into the ditch to save us. We know the power of His crucifixion and the power of His resurrection to heal and restore. We know His messages changes hearts and changes lives. That is the message we are called to proclaim. That is the message we are called to be. We are people of the ditch who get down in the ditch and help people of the ditch. It is the Christ thing to do.