Sermon for The Thirteenth Sunday after Trinity, 2026
- 1 day ago
- 2 min read
Did either the priest or the Levite wonder whether he had been careless, walking that treacherous road alone, whether he might have brought this on himself? Is that not the question you reach for as well, when the trouble is not yours and you would rather it stayed that way? “He should not have been walking there,” you say. “He should have known better.” Is it not remarkable how quickly the Law becomes something you are certain someone else has broken?
And yet, have you done any better? Have you kept the whole of the Law? Don’t you know better? Why, then, are you lying there yourself, beaten and fatally injured by both the devil and your sinful nature?
Just then, a Samaritan, of all people, comes to where the poor, miserable wretch is.
He had compassion.
Not because the man had earned such compassion, nor, even, because he asked for it; in truth, he could not: stripped and beaten and half dead, he never speaks a word in the whole of this account, not to the priest, not to the Levite, not even to the one who finally stops. He does not plead his case. He does not explain himself. Most likely, he does not even know that anyone has stopped. Still the Samaritan goes to him, and binds up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine, sets him on his own animal, brings him to an inn, takes care of him there, and on the next day takes out two denarii, and gives them to the innkeeper, saying, “Take care of him; and whatever more you spend, when I come again, I will repay you.”
Beloved, this is not a parable about trying harder. If it were, it would only prove what the Law has already proven: that you cannot. No, this is not a lesson in how to love others; this is your Lord, Christ Jesus, who came down from heaven, who comes to where you are.
Readings:
Old Testament: 2 Chronicles 28:8-15
Epistle: Galatians 3:15-22
Holy Gospel: Luke 10:23-37
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