21. The Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37)
Out of the crowds that followed Jesus, a lawyer
stepped forth one day with a question to test the new rabbi: “Master, what
shall I do to inherit eternal life?” (v. 25). Was this a sincere question
or another attempt to catch him at his words? Whichever it was, Jesus treated
the question and the questioner respectfully. His first answer, however, was not
really an answer at all, but rather another question, which turned the testing
back upon the lawyer. It would lead him, if he had an open mind, to a searching
self-examination of belief and practice: “What is written in the law? How
readest thou?” (v. 26).
“And he answering said, ‘Thou
shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with
all thy strength, and with all thy mind: and thy neighbour as thyself’
” (v. 27).
It was an excellent answer, showing an insight
into the law born of deep and prayerful study. He had thus linked together two
commandments from separate parts of the Torah (Deut. 6:5; Lev. 19:18). On a
later occasion Jesus himself did the very same thing in response to the query as
to what was the greatest commandment (Matt. 22:39).
“And Jesus said unto him, ‘Thou
hast answered right: this do, and thou shalt live’ ”
(v. 28).
There is a great gulf between reason and
response, between theory and practice, between hearing and doing. To so answer
was relatively easy; to do was another matter altogether. And so it is for all
of us: Love as a Biblical concept, and the mystical expression of love for God,
are often on the lips of His children. But the practical expression of that love
is a difficult business.
The lawyer now sought “to justify
himself” (v. 29): “Who is my neighbor?” Evidently he thought
the first part of the great commandment was no problem for him; after all, what
right-thinking, religious person did not love God with all his being? But the
penetrating gaze of this rabbi and the finality of his admonition —
“This DO!” — left even this confident lawyer a trifle
uneasy at his position in regard to the second half. In so asking he betrayed
the weakness of those who concentrated upon the meticulous observance of the
law; he was anxious to know the exact limits of his obligations. Who were those
who in his particular situation had claims upon him? Was it not possible that he
was already obeying the law — even in this matter?
As he so often did, Jesus answered a question
with a parable that at first glance was not an answer at all. It was a story,
however, which would be very familiar to his listeners.
A certain man was descending the dreaded
“Way of Blood” that led from Jerusalem to Jericho. Though it was a
dangerous journey — for the twists and turns of the rocky path offered
numerous places for brigands to hide — he traveled alone. And, sure
enough, he fell among cruel thieves and was left to die.
It so happened that a priest came down by that
way, and passed by on “the other side”; likewise, a Levite. These
paragons of sacrifice and ritual would not be detoured from the fulfillment of
their duties; with averted eyes they hastened on. One can imagine the many
possible ways by which they would have sought to justify themselves in such
neglect. Perhaps they were even so close together that each was aware of the
other’s failure as well as his own. The priest might have thought:
‘My work is most important; I will let this lesser Levite behind me tend
to this rather unpleasant business.’ And the Levite might well have said
to himself: ‘The priest did not bother; and his calling to keep the Law is
higher than mine; why should I?’ None of us are such strangers to the act
of self-justification that these excuses or a dozen like them would seem totally
unreasonable. No doubt we can all recall “reasons” for failing to do
our duty that were just as flimsy when later held up to the clear light of
Scripture.
And looking upon him, they both passed by on the
other side! The lesson is obvious: this man was a “stranger” to
them; why should they be inconvenienced by someone who might be a grievous
sinner? Indeed, perhaps they feared defilement! ‘We might be partakers of
this man’s sins.’ In Christ’s analogy they plainly loved self
more than they loved any “neighbor”. This was a fault no less to be
rebuked simply because it was induced by a rigid doctrinal view of
“holiness”. Their special Bible interpretations added to their
legalistic duties (“Touch not, handle not the unclean
thing”), but those same interpretations sadly detracted from what they
should have readily recognized as practical duties. The lesson must not
be lost on us. (A few years ago an ecclesia planned a special lecture, with
considerable advertising. A large number of visitors attended, but of them all
only one finally accepted the Truth and was baptized. And she did not attend
because of any media advertising, but solely because — on the very day of
the lecture — a brother played the part of “Good Samaritan” to
a motorist in distress.)
But a certain Samaritan — one of the race
despised by the “elite” Pharisaic Jews — happened also to come
that way. Having compassion upon the fallen Jew, whom he might have left to his
fate with more justification than did the other two, he went to him. Binding up
his wounds, setting him on his own beast, he brought him safely to the inn. In
so doing, the Samaritan brought upon himself grave personal danger
— the thieves might have still been around. Furthermore, it was a
messy and troublesome job to bind up the man’s wounds. And also, he
experienced a real material loss; two pence was not a small sum (by Matt.
20:2 it would represent two days’ wages).
Christ himself is to be seen in the parable.
Surely it is worth noting that his enemies at least once denounced him as a
Samaritan (John 8:48), perhaps in reference to the peculiar circumstances of the
marriage of Joseph and Mary, or perhaps because of his fearless association with
that hated nation (John 4:40, and see also Chapter 29 in this book). Christ is
our neighbor, coming near to us in our fallen condition, showing mercy to those
who do not deserve it. We have all descended the road of blood toward the city
of the curse (Josh. 6:26); we have all been wounded by sin and we have all lain
near death. At great personal risk and inconvenience and loss, even at the
expense of legal defilement, Christ has stopped, and stooped, to help us.
He has reinforced that lesson: “Go, and do thou
likewise!”
The Samaritan in the parable is pictured as
telling the innkeeper, into whose hands he committed the wounded man:
“Whatsoever you spend in his care, even if it be more than I have given
you, I will repay you” (v. 35). Those who follow his example, even at risk
to themselves, who go the extra mile to bear with and help a fallen brother, to
bind up wounds in the ecclesia, pouring in the oil of kindness and love....
those who do such things will never lose anything. There is no danger in such a
policy of self-sacrifice. “I will repay thee”, are the words of
Christ.
“And be ye kind one to another,
tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath
forgiven you” (Eph. 4:32).
“Christ suffered for us, leaving us an
example, that ye should follow his steps” (1 Pet.
2:21).
And now the lawyer’s question is put to
him: “Which of these three was neighbor to the man who fell among
thieves?” The answer was inescapable, but even then the fastidious Jew
could not bring himself to name the man by race. So instead: “He that
showed mercy on him.” A neighbor is one who shows mercy, who offers help
and love to those who do not deserve it. Even the most blatant self-interest
leads us to love those who love us; there is no special sacrifice in this. True
love that emulates the Master must stretch out to include those who may be
separated from us. Ceremonial purity may pass by on the other side, holding its
garments aloof, that it be not touched by the fallen condition of others. But
true love looks upon misfortune, stops to help, binds up wounds, pouring in wine
and oil, and walks step by step with those who have fallen, until they all come
safely to the inn.
Before we go too far afield to find the neighbors
we should love, let us look around us, at a divided, problem-riddled
Christadelphia. Let us consider the brethren who hold the Truth just as we do,
but who need a helping hand to be bound again to the brotherhood. Let us
consider our attitudes toward those “other groups” who may be so
close to us in beliefs but whom we put so far away in practice; are they our
“Samaritans”?
“The Samaritans were neighbours in the most
literal sense, but as for loving them, that seemed impossible. Christ loved them
and caused his disciples to marvel at the manner in which he spake to the woman
at Jacob’s well and afterwards to others who came out to hear him. The
Jews as a whole almost made it a part of their religion to hate the Samaritans,
and if they were able to analyze their own feelings they would probably have to
admit that the hatred was directly traceable to the fact of their being such
near neighbours. This is a common weakness of poor human nature. Those
who are near but not quite with us arouse more bitterness of feelings than
complete strangers. Then when such an evil feeling has been once started,
the deceitful heart begins to build up fancies to justify the hatred,
thus further traducing those who have already been wronged” (I.
Collyer, The Guiding Light, p. 66).