Amos 7:7–17; Psalm 82; Colossians 1:1–14; Luke 10:25–37

This week, across the country in Richmond Hill, Ontario, Anglicans from all over Canada are meeting for General Synod 2016. Perhaps the most anticipated business of the day is the motion currently on the floor which proposes a change to the marriage canon allowing same-sex marriage to be fully celebrated within the Anglican Church, as opposed to the current system which demands civil marriage before allowing same-sex unions to be blessed.

Yesterday morning, Archbishop Josiah Atkins Idowu-Fearon, Secretary-General of the Anglican Consultative Council, spoke with gentleness and respect to those gathered to discuss changes to the marriage canon. Archbishop Idowu-Fearon, a Nigerian, served as Bishop in two Dioceses in the Church of Nigeria, and Archbishop of the Ecclesiastical province of Kaduna. He is best known for his award-winning bridge-building work in Christian-Muslim dialogue and his sharp intellect, work that has gotten him in trouble with many of his more conservative colleagues in the Nigerian Church.

Although he opposes both same-sex marriage and same-sex unions as counter to Christian teaching, Archbishop Idowu-Fearon also opposes criminalization of homosexuality in his home country, and has on multiple occasions sought dialogue and understanding with those who have different beliefs about human sexuality.

What does this have to do with today’s parable? Everything.

It’s a tough parable to preach on! We all know it so well. Our children know it, our teens know it, even our friends who know nothing about the church at least know the hero, and even if they don’t know the story, they know the message. A man in need makes a friend indeed.

Except not really, because as far as we know the Samaritan never even speaks to him. We don’t know if he ever regains consciousness. He is a blank slate. Even the way he is referred to in the Greek suggests that. Anthropos tis, a certain man – or, as one writer suggested, “some guy.” We know nothing about who he is, what he looks like, or why he’s going to Jericho from Jerusalem. People familiar with the area tell us that the road was dangerous, and it runs downhill.

As they seek to discover new angles on this story, many writers break down the individual acts of kindness that the Samaritan performs. He comes near the man, rather than passing to the other side. He sees the man. He’s moved with pity, or has compassion. He goes to him and pours oil and wine on the man’s wounds, and bandages them. Then he puts him on his own animal and carries him to an inn and takes care of him. Then he leaves two days’ wages with the innkeeper, and promises to give more if necessary.

Each one of these acts could be a sermon in itself. With that in mind, let’s talk a little bit about oil and wine.

Why would the Samaritan pour oil and wine on the man’s wounds? Well, oil and wine were practical elements in healing in the ancient Near East. Olive oil was used as a painkiller, a soothing unguent for cuts and bruises. Wine, of course, could be used as an antiseptic. All kinds of accidents could happen on a journey like this, especially before cars, so this was all part of the Samaritan’s first aid kit.

But we know that oil and wine have theological significance in our tradition as well. We know that olive oil played and still plays a huge part in the lives of Mediterranean people. It was a staple of the diet. People used it to light their lamps. They anointed themselves with it after baths and during festivals. It was tithed and a part of first fruit and meal offerings in the temple. Priests and kings were consecrated with it. Lepers were anointed with it. Its presence indicated gladness; its absence sorrow and humiliation.

Wine is first mentioned in the Hebrew Bible in connection with Noah, who plants a vineyard after entering into covenant with God. Jacob promises his son Judah vineyards and a bounty of wine as a blessing. Vineyards are a sign of God’s blessing in the prophetic literature as well, symbolizing the promise of restoration. And of course, Jesus’ first sign in the Gospel of John is turning water into wine at the wedding in Cana, which John understands as a fulfillment of First Testament prophecy.

Oil and wine together are quite common in the First Testament. They are regularly included as part of the lavish gifts exchanged between kings. They are also a sign in the Prophet Joel’s writings of a mended relationship between God and humankind.

The Samaritan is a hero to us for good reason. Unlike the other two supposedly righteous men he walks toward a risky situation and does what he can to provide this poor soul with the physical healing and care that he needs.

So should we all.

But the truth about oil and wine shows us that it’s even more beautiful and subversive than that.

Most people know that Samaritans and Jews didn’t get along back then. That’s an understatement. They hated each other. Jews and Samaritans both worshiped the God of Israel, but in different places. The Jews believed, in fact, that the Samaritans had been severely punished by God for worshiping in the “high places.” They were believed to be an unclean idolatrous people who did not believe in Jerusalem’s status as the holy city, God’s dwelling place. Their beliefs made them reviled outcasts.

We are often more critical of those who are close to us.

We know this, in this Diocese. We know this, in the Anglican Church of Canada.

Think of the kind of Christian you can’t stand to be around, whatever they look like. This is still someone who loves, lives, and laughs with family and friends, who has known pain and loss and joy, who has hurt others and been hurt, just like all of us. This is still someone who has come to an understanding of the world through experience, observation, and assumption, just like us; someone who is also probably far more complicated and full of grace than we would ever like to think possible.

This person comes to us on the road, bearing signs of restored community, not for hoarding or for self-aggrandizing, but for performing the work of the kingdom. The signs of spiritual wealth, abundance, and healing. The signs of God.

Tools of restoration are always best in the hands of the one with whom covenant is broken. Not absent – broken. It’s one thing to recognize God in the eyes of a stranger. It’s another to recognize God in the eyes of an enemy.

Archbishop Idowu-Fearon opened his speech at General Synod with prayer: “Lord Jesus, who prayed that we might all be one.” He praised our Primate’s leadership and the Canadian document “This Holy Estate,” which discusses the issue of same-sex marriage in the Anglican Church of Canada. He said, “We [Anglicans] almost came apart on the issue. But we did not.” He affirmed the Anglican Consultative Council’s desire to walk with us together.

Here before us, reaching across the road, is one Good Samaritan, bearing the tools of gentle speech, openness, trust, and the holy symbols of our faith.

Over the last decade we have not had the best relationship with all of our Anglican family, particularly the Diocese of Nigeria. It is true that many lay and ordained leaders there have reacted with fear and anger over the changes in the worldwide Communion, declaring that our Diocese specifically was in a state of impaired Communion. It is true there have been violence and threats leveled against primates and bishops who disagree. It may be true that we will never be able to fully reconcile on this issue.

But here before us is a neighbour, extending a hand.

This is not someone like us – and yet, of course it is. Because this is a brother in Christ, bearing the bread of communion and the wine of healing so that we may be one.

And as he stands on the other side of the space between us, Jesus speaks to us from far up ahead, on a road like the one from Jerusalem to Jericho, dangerous, downhill, heading to the cross:

“Go and do likewise.”

And so I invite you to pray with me. “Lord Jesus, who prayed that we might all be one, we ask you to bless the work of General Synod 2016. Send down your Holy Spirit to sow seeds of justice and love among all of our friends and family in Christ, help them to be gentle with each other, and keep them safe as they travel. In your name we pray. Amen.”