Springwood Presbyterian Church: Whitsett, NC

The One Who Showed Mercy

“It’s a beautiful day in this neighborhood,  A beautiful day for a neighbor.  Would you be mine?  Could you be mine?”  I miss Mr. Rogers: his calm presence, his willingness to be silly, his imagination, his refusal to let glitz and commercialism enter into his work with children. 

Did you know he was an ordained Presbyterian minister?  He was already doing children’s television when he felt called to ministry.  It took him 8 years to complete seminary, going during his lunch breaks.  He was ordained, not to parish work, but to a non-commercial kind of television ministry to children and their families, teaching children to love themselves and others.  Perhaps he intended that to rub off on the rest of us—the adults who watched his show with their kids.

Although he was too humble to have claimed this for himself, I believe Fred Rogers lived as the model neighbor Jesus speaks of—the one who showed mercy, without regard to age, status, or even faith.  When he died in 2003, one speaker at his memorial service [Teresa Heinz Kerry] noted, "He never condescended, just invited us into his conversation. He spoke to us as the people we were, not as the people others wished we were."

Rogers himself wrote, “I believe that, at the center of the universe, there dwells a loving spirit who longs for all that’s best in all of creation—a spirit who knows the great potential of each planet, as well as each person, and little by little, will love us into being more than we ever dreamed possible.  That loving spirit would rather die than give up on any one of us.”   [Life’s Journeys According to Mr. Rogers]

With such faith in a loving God, and actions that made his faith manifest, Mr. Rogers was a neighbor who was easy to love.  But Jesus calls us to love all our neighbors—even, and especially, those hardest to love, those who are the least like us, the least like folks we want to associate with.  Who might they be for you?: people you fear, like gang members, or someone recently released from prison? … those who offend you, like the homeless person asking for money on the street corner or the same-sex couple down the street? … people too far away to notice, like the thousands dying of starvation in Darfur or of malaria in southern Africa or of war in the Middle East? … those you have trouble understanding because they only recently moved to this country? … people with whom you differ politically?

Society in Jesus’ day had strict boundaries about who was acceptable, who was not.  The Samaritan was one who was not acceptable to Jews.  For Jesus to use him as an example of a good neighbor was scandalous to his hearers. 

Society in our day draws lines, too, although not as rigidly as in Jesus’ day.  Nonetheless, it takes faith and courage and compassion for a Christian to act as an advocate--a friend—to the people I named a moment ago.

Courage is a funny thing.  It has nothing to do with lack of fear.  It’s the ability to act in spite of our fears.  When we act, even though we may be terribly afraid, we are drawing on our faith that God is calling us to action, and that God will go with us to help us.  Stories abound recently in newspapers and newsmagazines of military men and women in Iraq and Afghanistan who shove fear aside to try to save another person—not always only another American, but sometimes strangers in those dangerous places.  You might remember, as well, whistle-blowers who lose their jobs, politicians who lose an election for doing the right thing.

Compassion, too, is a funny thing.  It seems as if some folks are just born with a tender heart.  Others grow up being taught to reach out to the least, the lost, the lonely.  But even the most tough-skinned of us can develop compassion and extend mercy to the stranger or the enemy, when we realize how much mercy God extends to us.

The usual interpretation of the parable is that Jesus is teaching his disciples how to act toward someone in need, whether they are family, friends, strangers, enemies.  And he is doing exactly that: he says, Go and do likewise—first, to the lawyer who asked the question, and by extension, to all of us who want to be his disciples.

But perhaps he also intends us to consider this: you and I are the ones needy and alone—broken by sin--beaten by the world—ignored by those who don’t want to get involved.  And God is the Good Samaritan who stops, lifts us up, heals our battered spirits, extends to us such gracious hospitality that we not only live, but live joyfully as his disciples, returning this kind of compassion to others.

When God loves us so much, we must be really something special, worthy of being loved, worthy of loving ourselves.  And loving ourselves, must we not love our neighbor, who is a child of God like us?

Most of all, how can we not love this God with all our being: heart, soul, strength, and mind?