In our scripture readings this morning, you heard two very different texts: one from the prophet Amos, the other from the Gospel of Luke. I want to tackle each of those passages in my sermon today. Let's begin with what appears to be the tough one first.

Amos is a prophet from the 8th century BCE. He is described as a farmer from the tiny village of Tekoa in Judea, which was the southern kingdom of Palestine. Being a prophet was actually known as a profession at the time. Every king had a group of prophets that advised him on affairs of the state, but Amos did not fit into that category. He was a simple herdsman and tender of sycamore trees who experienced these disturbing visions and is compelled to share them. What made this so dangerous for Amos is that his prophecies were not delivered to his own people in Judea, but in the northern kingdom of Israel.

At this time in Palestine's history, Judea and Israel were totally separate. They had different kings, different capital cities, and different traditions for worshipping God. During the time that Amos prophesied, Israel was at the height of its power. The nation was at peace, the economy was booming, and the monarchy under Jereboam II was uncontested. Times were good indeed, and the people were convinced that God had showed them special favor. 

So how do you think Amos, this farmer from Judea, was received when he arrived at the royal sanctuary at Bethel and began prophesying that Israel was being judged by God and sentenced to complete destruction? He was probably not a popular fellow, but then true prophets are usually very unpopular in their own times. The message they share is usually a critical one, and those messages are hard to accept when things appear to be going so well.

In our scripture today, Amos gives a very harsh message that was not well received. He recounts three visions that he had experienced. The first is a vision of locusts destroying the second crop of the Israelites, eliminating their food supply for the rest of the year. "O Lord God, forgive," Amos cries out, "How can Jacob stand? He is so small" (Amos 7:2). Here Amos is pleading for God to relent, to remove this punishment from the nation of Israel. And God does relent, saying, "It shall not be" (Amos 7:3). Amos relays a second vision. This time it is a shower of fire (probably a drought) that dries up the seas and rivers and parches the land. This time Amos is even more urgent in his plea: "O Lord God, cease, I beg you" (Amos 7:5). And once again God relents.

Now we reach the third vision, and this time Amos reports seeing God standing beside a wall with a plumb line in his hand. Do you know what a plumb line is? A plumb line is used by a master builder to test the walls of a building to see if they are built straight and true. Otherwise, they have to be torn down and reconstructed. This time, the Lord speaks first: "Amos what do you see?" And Amos says simply, "A plumb line." And then God utters the judgment, and this time there is no relenting. "I am setting a plumb line in the midst of my people Israel, I will never again pass them by" (Amos 7:8). Israel is declared guilty of breaking its covenant with God. God has judged the nation to not be true and the sentence is complete destruction. We are told earlier in the book of Amos why Israel is being judged so harshly: "Because they sell the righteous for silver, and the needy for a pair of sandals. They trample the head of the poor into the dust of the earth and push the afflicted out of the way" (Amos 2:6-7). In a time of plenty, the least of these were forgotten and oppressed. The sentence is carried out. In 721 BCE, the country of Assyria becomes the region's superpower, invades Israel, destroys its cities, and deports the population. 

The plumb line, then, is an absolute, unforgiving image of justice. It tests the boundary that God sets for the people. There are certain ethics of mercy and justice for others that the people have not practiced. The boundary has been passed, and now God declares Israel's punishment.

I believe that the theme of boundaries is one that we continue to struggle with today. One problem that we encounter is the lack of boundaries. If we possess no standards for how to live peacefully with one another, then everyone suffers the consequences. Everything cannot be relative; there must be some commonly accepted ways in which we act. We should put ourselves to the test before we take action. A question we can ask ourselves is "Does my action or inaction respect the integrity of the other person?" If we are all created in the image of God, then every one of us deserves that consideration from their neighbor.

The second problem we encounter is when the boundaries are drawn too tightly. One of the characteristics of this post-modern world is a sense of isolation. While we are connected beyond our wildest dreams in the virtual world of technology, many are feeling unconnected with real people in real relationships. In fact, most of those same people who are feeling isolated are searching for community through spirituality, whether that be in a traditional church setting or other spiritual groups outside the church. It comes down to the realization that no matter how much we communicate via the internet, cell phones, faxes, cable, or DVD, we need to be with other people in real life. When we separate ourselves from others, we unwittingly diminish our own humanity and capacity for life. The great myth of the modern world is that we are independent, autonomous beings who do not need other human relationships. In reality, we are incomplete as human beings when we lack friends and neighbors.

This is how Martin Luther King, Jr. summarized it in his Christmas Eve sermon at Ebenezer Baptist Church in 1967:

It really boils down to this: all life is interrelated. We are all caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied into a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. We are made to live together because of the interrelated structure of reality.

This concept of the entire world being interrelated is one of the foundations of King's theology. It informs his commitment to peace, nonviolent resistance, and justice for all. It is the prophet Amos that King quotes when he says, "Let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream" (Amos 5:24). That quote from the prophet Amos is inscribed on King's grave in the midst of a reflecting pool at the King Center in Atlanta, Georgia.

Jesus, one of the master interpreters of the Hebrew scriptures himself, understood the importance of mercy and justice for all. In our gospel lesson from Luke today, Jesus provides a commentary on the Torah by using the parable of the Good Samaritan. As Jesus is making his way from Galilee to Jerusalem, a lawyer stops him to ask a question: "What must I do to inherit eternal life?" Jesus answers him with another question: "What is written in the law? What do you read there?" The lawyer, being an excellent student of the Hebrew scriptures, answers "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself" (Luke 10:25-27). That's it! Jesus congratulates him on giving the right answer, advises him to go do it, and the lawyer will have eternal life.

Unfortunately, the lawyer can't stop there. In an effort to justify himself, he poses a follow up question for Jesus: "And who is my neighbor" (Luke 10:29)? Now I want to pause here and tell you that it would be very easy to bash lawyers at this point in the story. This is the perfect opportunity to tell some of the countless lawyer jokes that we have heard over the years. However, I am going to resist that temptation and ask each of you to imagine yourself as the lawyer in the parable. As the lawyer, you know that you are supposed to love your neighbor as yourself. But you are tempted to pare that part of the law down in order to make it more comfortable. You are trying to put limits on what is required of you, so you ask a very clever follow up question: "Just who is my neighbor?" Maybe if we can create a boundary, make a few exceptions, we can make this ethic a little bit easier to practice. 

Now let's go to Jesus' answer, the parable of the Good Samaritan. An anonymous person is found on the roadside between Jerusalem and Jericho, stripped and beaten nearly to death by robbers. The two so-called religious people, a priest and a Levite, pass by him without offering any help whatsoever. But the third passerby, a Samaritan, is filled with mercy for the beaten man. He administers first aid, picks him up, transports him to an inn, and gives the innkeeper money to take care of this stranger.

You may have heard in other sermons or bible studies on this parable on why it is significant that it was a Samaritan who provided the aid. Remember earlier, when we were discussing the scripture from Amos, that the northern kingdom of Israel was conquered by the Assyrians in 721 BCE. Centuries later, the region became known as Samaria. It was a Hellenistic region, filled with a mix of people from various ethnic and cultural backgrounds. A large portion of the population was Jewish, but their worship practices were very different from the Jews located in Judea. The Samaritans were despised by the Judeans, and it was thought that nothing good could come out of that land. Yet it was the Samaritan, the outsider, that was the true neighbor who practiced mercy and justice.

After telling the parable, Jesus now asks the final question: "Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?" "The one who showed him mercy," replies the lawyer. "Go and do likewise" (Luke 10:36-37). The lawyer's attempt to limit the commandment has backfired. We are forced to acknowledge that practicing acts of mercy for those in need define the neighbor, not race, gender, or cultural background.

When I first began preparing this sermon, I thought that the Good Samaritan parable would soften the harsh words that we heard from Amos. I was afraid that if I only preached from the Amos text, you would all be hanging your heads in despair as you left today. But the Bible always surprises, and I am surprised again today. You see, the lesson of the Good Samaritan is just as hard as the plumb line of Amos. The parable is about the need to practice acts of mercy and justice outside your own group. That is because God is the creator of all human beings in the world. We are all interrelated through God's power and love.

One of my teachers, Dr. James Sanders, has written about what makes Jesus in the Gospel of Luke such a controversial preacher.Jesus is so controversial in his interpretation of Hebrew scripture that his own congregation runs him out of town. Jesus is telling them that God is not just the God of the Jews. God is also not just God of the Christians, or the Muslims, or the Buddhists. God is God of all. God's grace is available to all, freely exercised according to Godís will and not our own. We are asking the wrong question when we ask "Who is our neighbor?" because everyone is our neighbor. The real question is "What do you do for your neighbor?" The answer: Love your neighbor as yourself.

This is an awesome responsibility that Amos and Jesus have placed upon us. We are asked to both set boundaries in acts of justice and to also cross them in acts of mercy. To love God with all of your heart and soul and mind and your neighbor as yourself is a difficult task. It is only by our faith in God that we can fulfill this summary of the Torah. Therefore, I think it is appropriate that we reaffirm our faith in God together. Let us stand, and turn to #883 in the back of the hymnal. There you will find an affirmation of faith from the United Church of Canada. Let us recite together what we believe as a Christian community of faith. Notes:

Martin Luther King, Jr., "A Christmas Sermon on Peace," A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings of Martin Luther King, Jr., ed. James Melvin Washington (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1986), 254.

James A. Sanders, "Isaiah in Luke," in Craig A. Evans and James A. Sanders, Luke and Scripture: The Function of Sacred Tradition in Luke-Acts (Orig. pub. Fortress Press, 1993; reprinted by Wipf & Stock, 2001), 24-25.