Worship - 13 July 2025

Summary of this week's theme

In past sermons on the Good Samaritan, I noted how eager we are to identify with the helper, wanting to be seen as compassionate, as the one who stops and cares.  But I wonder whether that desire has changed.  I recently heard an Anlgican priest suggest, echoing JD Vance, that we naturally prioritise those closest to us: our families, our own communities.  To which I thought: of course we do.  That’s exactly why Jesus told this parable - to challenge our assumptions about who our ‘neighbour’ really is! 

Jesus calls us beyond our instinctive circles of care - family, friends, tribe - and invites us into something far more demanding and radical.  Yet, in today’s anxious world - shaped by economic crises, a global pandemic, and uncertainty - it feels as though compassion has turned inward.  Fear, resulting from anxiety, has become a tool, used to divide and isolate.

Today is Sea Sunday, which reminds me of a conversation I had with a friend and fellow sailor, James, who died ten years ago.  Once, in the course of conversation, we observed that panic at sea causes more damage - and death - than the storms themselves.  Sailors know that staying calm and working together is the only way to survive.  Ships are communities - each person’s wellbeing depends on everyone pulling together - and thinking rationally.

This spirit of mutual care is embodied in seafarers’ chaplains, like one who helped a Filipino cook called Carlo, who fell ill in port.  Alone and abandoned, Carlo found a lifeline in a chaplain who brought clothes, food, and the means to contact his family - an echo of the Samaritan who showed mercy.

Contrast that with how we often treat strangers in boats today - with suspicion, or hostility. That’s not the gospel. That’s rewriting the parable to suit our fears.

In the Old Testament, King Jeroboam dismissed the prophet Amos because he didn’t want to hear the truth.  It can be the same today: when we ignore those who challenge us, we are building walls on crooked foundations.  But Jesus gives us a plumb line - a standard of truth that exposes our self-interest.

The law expert asked, ‘Who is my neighbour?’ hoping to justify himself.  We are often tempted to do the same, seeking safe definitions, neat boundaries.  But what if, instead, we asked others to be our neighbours?  What if we risked stepping beyond comfort and fear - and chose mercy?