A Lay Sermon by Mayor Leendert de Lange

Good morning, 

It's so nice that you're here and that you came to the Dorpskerk this morning.

Through your car's windshield, you see another car upside down in the water. In the ditch along the service road of Landscheidingsweg, four wheels are still sticking out of the water. What will you do? Hit the brakes? Help? Keep driving? 

Damian didn’t hesitate for a moment last year. He jumped out of the car and into the water. Using the pole from the traffic sign that had been knocked over, he smashed the glass of two windows. Another bystander handed him a lifesaving hammer. After breaking the glass of the fourth window, he was able to grab the hand of a woman in the passenger seat. By then, she had already swallowed a significant amount of water. She was trapped in the car, facing certain drowning. Fortunately, Damian managed to free the woman. He lifted her out of the water, placed her in the recovery position, and cleared the water from her lungs. After that, the emergency responders who had rushed to the scene were able to take over the Health .

This week, I had the honor of presenting Damian with a bronze medal and a certificate from the Royal Society for the Rescue of Drowning Persons. Damian is a highly trained instructor with the Royal Military Police—what a stroke of luck—but above all, he is a courageous person who steps up when the going gets tough. 

It is a great honor for me to address you here today, in the presence of my father, mother, sister, and wife—in what is, in a way, our family church: the place where my parents were married, where we said goodbye to my grandparents, and where my mother once spoke from this very pulpit as part of her youth ministry work.

The more I delved into the parable of the Good Samaritan, the more I was reminded of a special aspect of being mayor. You find yourself in all sorts of places. You speak with fellow villagers during festive occasions—such as a 60th wedding anniversary (so I get to eat cake quite often), at a grand opening, or during the presentation of a royal honor. But you also meet people during difficult times: when they’re sick, after a loss, after an accident, or when life seems to have come to a standstill.

For me, it’s always about people. What I often notice is that people don’t always remember exactly what was said. But they do remember who was there at the time. Who paused for a moment on Langstraat. Who listened and struck up a conversation. Who gave their undivided attention.

Perhaps that is exactly why the parable of the Good Samaritan still moves us after more than two thousand years. This story isn’t about complicated rules or big words. It’s about a person who sees another person lying by the side of the road. And it’s about the question: Do I walk on by, or do I stop?

The story begins with a lawyer who tests Jesus with a question. Today, we call that a challenge. “Who is my neighbor?” A beautiful and multifaceted question. Jesus doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he takes you on a journey through a moving story. 

A man is traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho. Along the way, he is attacked, beaten, and robbed. Left for dead, he lies by the roadside. Public order and safety apparently had their challenges even back then. Then three people come by. First, a priest—a man of standing, someone you’d expect to help. He sees the injured man but walks right past him. Next comes a Levite, a temple servant. He, too, sees the man lying there—and walks right past him.

Then a Samaritan appears. In those days, Samaritans were held in low esteem. They were seen as outsiders—people you’d give a wide berth. But he, of all people, stops. He doesn’t ask who the injured man is. He doesn’t ask where he’s from. He doesn’t ask if he deserves help. He sees a person in need. He steps forward and begins to care for the man. In the absence of Betadine, the wounds are treated with oil and wine. After being bandaged, the man is taken to an inn. The Samaritan guarantees to pay all the costs.  

At the end, Jesus asks the lawyer a question in return. “Which of these three do you think became a neighbor to the man who was attacked by robbers?” The answer, of course, is crystal clear. The Good Samaritan. From zero to hero. It’s not about who belongs to your circle. It’s about the question: to whom am I a neighbor? For whom do I feel responsible? For whom are we collectively responsible? 

Resilience

The message behind this story remains relevant today. Fortunately, the question “Who is my neighbor?” still occupies people’s minds. “People need stories of hope to come to terms with harsh reality, so they don’t become despondent and helpless,” argues Beatrice de Graaf in the 2024 Huizinga Lecture. “In times of confusion and uncertainty, we need historical narratives that not only logically organize and explain the facts but also offer a perspective for action, taking into account human shortcomings and flaws,” writes Reverend Ad van Nieuwpoort in the highly recommended book *Buig Niet: Biblical Antidote for Today*.

In this powerful Huizinga Lecture, De Graaf referred to the Church Father Augustine, who said: “Do not complain about the emperor, or about the times. Emperors pass away; times come to an end. But say: we are the times.”

So we have to make do with what we have. In the here and now. That calls for resilience and strength in turbulent times. Fortunately, we live in freedom here in the Netherlands, but war and conflict are close by. We live in a beautiful, green, and international village. But even here, every household has its own struggles. The demand for youth services is growing. The notion that children will have it better than their parents seems to have run its course. Many young people—and those a bit older—feel constant pressure to be successful. Every day, through social media, we’re confronted with images of people who radiate happiness, seem successful, and have truly made it. But behind those images often lie the same questions people have always had. Am I good enough? Do I belong? Do I matter? Can I handle the future?

In addition, we live in a time when many developments are happening all at once. Wars, Paris is on fire, constant elections, severe weather, computer systems crashing, fake news, expensive groceries, and waiting in line for housing. We’re deeply connected to the world, yet at the same time, we face loneliness, uncertainties, and changes that seem to follow one another at an ever-increasing pace.

All of this raises an important question: How do we stay resilient? We often think of self-reliance in this context—of being strong, of being able to take care of ourselves.

Today, I want to challenge you to look at things differently—to see something else—with the help of the Good Samaritan. The man lying half-dead by the roadside was unable to help himself at that moment. He was saved because someone else stopped to help him. His resilience came from the fact that he was not alone.

Isn't this an important lesson for our time? True resilience doesn't begin with independence, but with connection. Looking out for one another. 

Responsibility

When we hear this parable, we usually focus our attention on the Samaritan. That makes sense, because he does the right thing. But there’s a second question in this story. What kind of society do we actually see here? A man lies helpless by the roadside. Two people who could have taken responsibility fail to do so. They walk right by. Only the third one stops.

Jesus doesn’t just tell us about one good person. He also shows us what happens when people fail to take responsibility for one another. The victim isn’t helped by a lack of supervisors or a failing care system. He is helped because one person decides to step forward. Perhaps that touches on one of the great questions of our time.

Who still feels responsible for the whole thing?

In recent years, we’ve seen just how dependent we are on one another. The coronavirus brought the entire world to a standstill. Working from home, maintaining a 1.5-meter distance, wearing face masks, and a curfew. But fortunately, we—including here in Wassenaar—rediscovered just how important neighbors, volunteers, healthcare providers, teachers, and informal caregivers are. Running errands for one another, sending cards, enjoying the outdoors on walks, and being there for others. 

When a crisis arises, people often turn to the government. That’s to be expected. The municipality plays an important role. But no government can replace what people mean to one another. 

“Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country,” President John F. Kennedy aptly stated. It is so powerful when we step forward together to the best of our ability when the time calls for it. That does, however, begin with the question: What is my responsibility?

As mayor of our village, I’m fortunate to see examples every day of people who take responsibility. The many volunteers at sports clubs, healthcare institutions, churches, service clubs, the Oranjevereniging, and community centers. The stars of the Bijbus. The volunteers with the police, fire department, Red Cross, and the Wassenaar Rescue Brigade. Informal caregivers who are there day and night for a child, partner, or parent. Residents who selflessly teach language classes to newcomers in our community. Volunteers are the human foundation of our village. People who are willing to go out of their way for one another. To step forward. In the spirit of the Good Samaritan.

As far as I’m concerned, there’s another lesson in this parable. It’s not the priest who helps. Not the Levite. But the Samaritan. The outsider. The one you wouldn’t expect. That’s not just a detail. It goes to the heart of the story. Jesus shows that compassion isn’t limited by background, position, or status. Your neighbor isn’t always the one closest to you. Sometimes it’s actually someone you’d least expect.

We see this every day in Wassenaar, too. Our community is made up of people from different backgrounds, with different beliefs and life stories. People who were born here. People who moved here later. People who come from other parts of the world. Everyone who is willing to take responsibility for others contributes to our community. That is what makes a society strong—not in spite of our differences, but precisely because of them.

Conclusion

At the end of the parable, Jesus does not offer a detailed explanation. He simply says, “So from now on, do just a Sun.” This, of course, means that He is speaking directly to each of us.

But we are also called upon to act collectively as a community. What kind of village do we want to be? What kind of society do we want to leave behind for our children and grandchildren? A society where people live side by side without interacting? Or a society where people look out for one another? The Good Samaritan shows that a community grows stronger when people take responsibility for one another. In doing so, we can sometimes even avert disaster or prevent accidents. By someone who stops, picks up the rock, and removes it from the road.

It often starts small. With attention. With a visit. With a listening ear. With a question. By holding off on judgment. With a helping hand. With a willingness to pause for a moment. By showing compassion. We don’t have to solve all the world’s problems. The Good Samaritan didn’t either. But he did change one person’s life. 

Isn’t that a wonderful start to bringing about change in our society? Sharing responsibility. Working toward a resilient society. The municipal government has a role to play in this. Schools have a role to play. Community organizations can help with this. Churches are places of hope, gathering, and inspiration. It takes more than just policies, institutions, or systems. A sense of connection arises from relationships between people—from trust, from commitment, and from the willingness to take responsibility for one another.
People grow stronger as we discover that we need one another. Therein lies the enduring power of the story of the Good Samaritan.

May we therefore not only ask, “Who is my neighbor?” but also explore this further with the question and challenge: For whom can we, together, be a neighbor? “People, help the people.”

Here at the Dorpskerk. Here in Wassenaar. And everywhere people come together.

Amen.