To Have and Receive Compassion
Sermon preached by Teva Regule, MDiv, PhD at the Sacrament of Holy Unction on Great and Holy Wednesday, April 8, 2026
Reflections on the Parable of the Good Samaritan (Lk. 10: 29–37) and the Sacrament of Unction
Glory to the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit—one God. Amen.
Cancer… the word tends to engender a sense of dread and, perhaps, despair. It is not the word we want to hear when receiving the results of our medical tests. A few years ago, a friend of mine heard this word—not once, but twice. It would be her second bout with the disease. It felt like a gut punch. She later described it to me as a sea of feelings—from anger to confusion to helplessness. Despite being a faithful Orthodox Christian and very active in her parish’s educational activities, she could not bring herself to pray. Furthermore, because of the risk of infection, she could not attend services. She felt isolated—alone. So, we—her friends and parish community—prayed for her. She later acknowledged that our compassion was what carried her through that trying time. It allowed her to feel connected to others, reclaim her sense of self, and ultimately, sustain her faith.
I would like to focus tonight on this second ‘C’ word—Compassion… The word is from the Latin, “to suffer with.” Our service tonight gives us a glimpse of compassion, in particular the compassion of God in which we are called to emulate. When Adam and Eve ate of the fruit of the forbidden tree in Garden of Eden, they not only disobeyed God’s directive, but set off a chain reaction of estrangement from not only God, but from each other, the animal world, the cosmos and most profoundly, within ourselves. In response, God did not abandon His creation, but eventually sent His Son in order to heal our estrangements—to reactualize the Edenic harmony of His creation. We can experience this harmony now through our participation in the Body of Christ.
So, what must I do to participate in this life or as a lawyer once posed to Jesus in the Gospel of Luke (Lk. 10:35), “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” In the account in Luke, Jesus answers by asking the lawyer to recall the two great commandments of the Law. The lawyer replies that one is to (1) love God with all our heart, soul, strength, and mind (Dt. 6:5) and (2) love our neighbor as ourselves (Lev. 19:18). Jesus affirms the lawyer’s answer, replying, “Do this, and you will live” (Lk. 10:28). However, the lawyer is not satisfied with the answer and pushes the issue further, asking, “Who is my neighbor?” To this, Jesus replies with a narrative that is familiar to many of us and which is the first Gospel reading of the service this evening—the parable of the Good Samaritan (Lk. 10: 29–37)—the paradigmatic example of loving God and neighbor through our compassion for the other.
To refresh our memories… A certain man goes down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and falls among thieves who strip him of his clothing, wound him, and depart, leaving him half dead. In modern parlance, we would say that he has just been mugged. The story continues by reporting that a priest and Levite, both temple functionaries, come across the man but pass by on the other side of the street in order to avoid contact with him. Actually, this would have been expected behavior in Judaism as the laws of ritual purity considered touching the dead or bloodied to make one unclean and thus, unfit to enter the temple to worship God. So, I am sure that they felt justified in their actions. The story continues and tells of a certain Samaritan who comes by, has compassion on the wounded man, bandages his wounds by pouring oil and wine on them, brings him to an inn, and takes care of him. He does this at great expense, not expecting anything in return. Moreover he is a Samaritan, one of the hereditary enemies of the Jewish people, the ones who have deviated from the true Jewish faith as given by Moses. In other words, he is not a friend or even an acquaintance, but a stranger (or even an enemy). The story concludes by Jesus asking the lawyer which of these was “neighbor to him who fell among the thieves” (Lk. 10:36). The lawyer rightly identifies the one “who showed mercy on Him” (Lk. 10:37). Jesus exhorts him to then “Go and do likewise” (Lk. 10:37).
I think the story can give us a deeper insight into loving God and neighbor than might be apparent at first glance. In the story, we see the Samaritan recognize “the other” as his neighbor—someone not of the same religion or tribe. On a moral level, the story can help us understand that our neighbor is anyone in need, regardless of their religion or tribe, or race, or sex, or any of the distinctions that divide us. In the story, we see that the priest and Levite privileged ritual purity as a necessary precondition for worshipping God. However, the story also intimates that ritual purity is not the key to worshipping God, but a purity of the heart. The Samaritan is moved and is drawn closer to God by his compassion for the other. Moreover, it can teach us that worshipping God is not something we do on our own, but worshipping God includes our neighbor. God and neighbor are connected. So, tonight we gather to show compassion to our neighbor. As we proclaim in the first epistle reading that if any are suffering or sick, we should come together as church and pray for them and anoint them with oil in the name of the Lord. The oil is a symbol—which, in the classic sense is that which participates in what it represents—of our connection to God. It is a tangible connection to the healing and reconciliation that is constitutive of the life in Christ.
But, what if we change the perspective just a bit? What if instead of understanding ourselves in the person of the Samaritan, we are the ones in the ditch? What if we are the ones who need healing? Compassion—“to suffer with”—may also mean allowing others to help us, to trust in God and our neighbor. This more spiritual meaning of the text is one that the church has often emphasized. From this perspective, Jesus Christ is the Good Samaritan who comes to rescue us, healing us with the oil of our Baptism and the wine of the Eucharist, and bringing us to the Inn of the Church. In the words of many of our prayers, Jesus Christ is the Physician of our souls and bodies who brings us to the “hospital” of the Church for healing.
Here, we can continue to experience the healing balm of Christ through the anointing of oil. The healing that He offers is for the whole person—body, mind, and soul, both personal and communal. The Church offers us many opportunities for healing and reconciliation, beginning with our baptism and participating in the entire sacramental life including our service tonight of Unction. Echoing the efficacy of our anointing at our Baptism, the oil of Unction is also, as we say in our first prayer, one of sanctification, protection and regeneration as well as everlasting gladness (p. 296-7). The second prayer of our service echoes the Sacrament of Confession. This gift of healing through Christ includes the remission of our sins. Tonight, when or as we approach God and one another in humble repentance, we are reminded that God does not “desire the death of a sinner, but that that [we] should return and live.” Healing in Christ is both for the mind and soul. In the third prayer, the healing power of Christ “touch(es) the body; quench(es) the fever; sooth(es) the suffering and banish(es) every hidden ailment” (p. 304). Healing in Christ is for the body. And in the sixth prayer, we are reminded that Christ healed the woman with the issue of blood. She not only suffered from a physical ailment, but was most likely estranged from those around her. Furthermore, according to Jewish law, she could not attend worship in her state. She was estranged from herself, her family, as well as her worship community. Her encounter with Christ was transformative; it allowed her to connect with her community again. Healing in Christ is not only physical and personal, but also communal.
So tonight, Jesus Christ reaches his hand toward us to bind up our wounds. Through the agency of the Holy Spirit, he touches us with the oil of gladness to heal what ails us—whether physical or spiritual, personal or communal. We have the opportunity to move down that path of reconciliation that Jesus paves for us—to be reconciled with each other, God, the world around us and, most profoundly, within ourselves. And for this, as we say in our seventh epistle reading, we give thanks (p. 317).
Amen.
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*References from The Services of Great and Holy Week and Pascha: According to the Use of the Self-Ruled Antiochian Orthodox Christian Archdiocese of North America, ed. V. Rev. Father Joseph Rahal (Englewood, NJ: Antakya Press, 2006).