And behold a certain lawyer stood up and tested Him, saying, "Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?"
So begins what is, perhaps, Jesus' most famous parable: the Good Samaritan. At the time, however, that title would have been laughed at and derided. The crowd might very well have protested, "The only 'good' Samaritan is a dead Samaritan!" or, more simply, "That's an oxymoron."
So begins what is, perhaps, Jesus' most famous parable: the Good Samaritan. At the time, however, that title would have been laughed at and derided. The crowd might very well have protested, "The only 'good' Samaritan is a dead Samaritan!" or, more simply, "That's an oxymoron."
It all starts out innocently enough. A lawyer or scribe stands up and asks Jesus a question in the classical fashion. The lawyer is delighted when it appears that Jesus is willing to play ball – lobbing the question back and forth between them like a lazy game of lawn tennis. It's a little like watching an infomercial where the host and the spokesman ask each other obvious questions.
"What can I do?"
"What do you read in the law?"
"Love God, love my neighbor."
"Go then and do likewise."
"And who is my neighbor?" the lawyer's voice goes up at the end of the question because he fully expects Jesus to respond with the "correct" answer. Unfortunately, it seems that no one has bothered to give Jesus a heads up on the "correct" answer because he's suddenly heading off for the weeds.
We know what Jesus is going to tell him, but what was the lawyer expecting Jesus to tell him? It's the disconnect between these two things that brings Jesus to again call the people around Him racists and hypocrites. Not only do you not help strangers, says Jesus, you don't even help your brothers.
The Pharisees, scribes and Sadducees made their reputations and their careers discussing the law and what it meant. Over the centuries, this discussion – considered an oral Torah – would eventually be recorded and collected into what is now the Talmud. It's this tradition – and subsequent document – that Isaiah decries ("their worship of me is nothing but man-made rules") and Jesus detests.
The Talmud is not a scriptural document but a commentary on scripture. As such, it gives a lot of insight into what the Pharisees and Sadducees thought and believed about the law and daily life. In it, the rabbis wrote that compassion, mercy and even basic assistance could be lawfully withheld on the basis of racial identity. One was not permitted to push a "foreigner" into a pit, but one was not required to pull him out, either. It's this attitude that Jesus challenges here in a most convicting manner.
A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho.
Right away, the audience is told that this "certain man" is very likely an important man (after all, the thieves take his clothes so they must have been expensive). He is also quite possibly a priest who has completed his tour of duty within the temple and is now headed back home, down the mountain to Jericho – the City of Priests. As he travels from Jerusalem ("the Vision of Peace") on his way to "His Fragrance" (a nod to the priestly offerings of incense and prayer), he is waylaid by thugs. He must traverse a dangerous world to get from one idyllic setting to another and, for whatever reason, he has fallen victim to violence – despite his status as one of God's most favored (a son of Abraham).
As the man, left for dead, lays there, along comes someone that we know for a fact is a priest. He, too, has probably just completed his tour of duty within the temple and is now headed home to Jericho. In other words, he may be closely related to the man on the ground. He doesn't bother to check, however, because he is too busy heading for the other side of the road in order to avoid him.
"Not my problem," says the priest, "and it certainly couldn't be anyone I know. I only know righteous people, and this poor schmuck is obviously suffering (and rightly so!) because God has condemned him for his sins. I will think about that and praise God for my righteousness and my faithfulness! I thank God I'm not like that man who so plainly has received his just desserts at the hands of evil men!"
Next, a Levite (a "man of My heart") comes along. He, too, is likely someone who has just completed his tour of duty within the temple – perhaps as a guard at the Beautiful Gate – and is now headed home to Jericho. He, too, could very well be related to the man on the ground. And just like his distant cousin walking ahead of him, he notices the man but heads to the other side of the road in short order.
"Nothing to see here!" says the Levite. "And it's clearly not my problem – or my responsibility – because the priest ahead of me – God's representative to the people – passed him by. Priests know best! If he didn't feel a need to help, I'm certainly under no obligation to do so either."
So far, we are two men out with a dying man on third. Up at bat? A Samaritan who just happens by. He's not on his way to Jerusalem (he's not allowed in the temple), and he's certainly not on his way to Jericho (why go where you're definitely not wanted?). Instead, Luke indicates he is using the same road while on business – an early business trip.
"Oh no," says the Samaritan. "I don't know you, but this could happen to me or even a member of my family (thank You God for Your grace). You're obviously suffering, let me help you if I can. Let me bind up your wounds and take you someplace safe where you can recover."
The Samaritan then expends time and money by putting the injured man on his own animal (presumably a donkey) and bringing him to an inn where he takes care of him. In addition to binding up his wounds, he has undoubtedly clothed him and fed him. The next day, he gives the injured man some space and an opportunity to recover his dignity (rescued by a Samaritan?! What would the neighbors think?) by making a side arrangement with the innkeeper. Not only does he give the innkeeper two days' wages to board the man but he puts his reputation on the line by promising the innkeeper that he will be back and will repay him if he happens to spend more. In essence, he's just handed the stranger – and the innkeeper – a blank check.
It is, quite obviously, a home run on the part of the Samaritan.
Meanwhile, the lawyer has been left hanging, standing there twiddling his thumbs as Jesus goes on and on with this ridiculous story about a virtuous (the nerve!) Samaritan of all things. Undoubtedly, he wishes he had sat down right away or snuck off with the rest of the Pharisees.
Jesus, however, isn't done with him just yet.
"So," says Jesus, "out of these three men -- the priest, the Levite and the Samaritan -- who do you think proved himself to be a neighbor to the man who was robbed?"
The name sticks in the lawyer's throat so he talks around it. "Ah, ahem, uh, the one who showed him mercy," he stutters.
Personalizing and repeating His earlier admonition, Jesus says, "You go, and do likewise."
(Tell a Jew to act like a Samaritan?! The nerve!)
