Text: Luke 10:25-37

What does one say about the Parable of the Good Samaritan that has not already been said many times over many centuries? David Bartlett calls Luke “the people’s gospel.” He points out that the birth narrative of Jesus and the parables of the Prodigal Son and the Good Samaritan are the Christian texts with which the entire world is most familiar. These are defining words for our faith community (David Bartlett, What’s Good about This News? p. 77.)

As we discussed this passage in Bible study, I was struck in a way I had never been before, by the complex humanity of the characters that cross the stage in this small drama. I think as a boy in Sunday school I was inclined to see the lawyer, the priest and the Levite as the bad guys; the tendency was to demonize them, while elevating Jesus to perfect divinity with the saintly Samaritan close behind. The beaten traveler was little more than a stage prop. But perhaps this is a richer text if we take seriously the very human nature of the characters as they are presented.

Before we consider the characters, let’s spend a few moments looking at the setting. In the passage before this morning’s text, Jesus has sent 70 disciples out in pairs to share the good news. They have returned ecstatic with the results of ministry: “Lord, in your name, even the demons submit to us!” Jesus shares their joy and prays, “I thank you, Father, Lord of Heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and intelligent and have revealed them to infants…” Or as Eugene Peterson puts it in The Message, “…you hid these things from the know-it-alls and showed them to these innocent newcomers…” Among other things, Jesus seems to be saying that intellect can sometimes interfere with the efficacy of faith practice. It’s a kind of riff on the old adage, “out of the mouths of babes and infants.” From such seemingly simple sources comes insight and wisdom that the educated and self assured cannot match. The appearance of the lawyer on the scene seems to flow directly from this observation of Jesus. It’s as if the writer of Luke brings him on as a foil precisely to prove Jesus’ point.

We might also consider the Jericho road, that narrow, dusty track that runs down hill from Jerusalem to Jericho, descending from 2300 feet above sea level to 1300 feet below in a short 20 miles. It was dangerous route, infested with bandits and terrorists from biblical times well into the 19th century. It was not trip that anyone well-informed and thinking clearly would make carelessly.

And what do we know of Samaritans, especially in the context of Jesus’ parable? There was deep and long lived enmity between Jews and Samaritans. Samaritans were a demonized class, an apostate group, foreigners living right next door, despised and avoided whenever possible. It was not until our recent study of the texts from Kings that I realized how clearly Samaritans were the descendants of Israel, the northern tribes that had been part of the great united kingdom of David and Solomon, then broken away to form their own kingdom after Solomon’s demise. This was enmity that developed among people of a common heritage and common blood lines. Something like this must have occurred between the Northerners and Southerners in this country around our own civil war. This is a tale of the sort of civil and religious enmity that still pits brother against brother and sister against sister in deep seated hostility and mortal enmity, in the Middle East between Israelis and Palestinians and throughout the world.

What of the characters? First, there is the lawyer. He was not what we think of as a lawyer today. He was a scribe, an expert in Mosaic Law, a religious scholar. He confronts Jesus with a test. He does not seem completely hostile. He addresses Jesus with respect, calling him “teacher,” and asks a question that seems to have some merit. It does not sound like a trick question simply thrown out to trip Jesus up. “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” This is something that might have been of real concern to a scholar of Mosaic Law. Perhaps it is a question that has crossed your mind at some point. Something like the question in the title of a book by Rabbi Harold Kushner, “How Good Do We Have to Be?” The lawyer may have been skeptical of Jesus and his ministry, but he might also have had some kinship with Nicodemus, who, though a Pharisee and member of the Sanhedrin, the ruling council of the Jews, came to Jesus under cover of night to ask a very similar question. The lawyer seems to be in an ambivalent stance toward this upstart teacher. He is well-educated, a scholar of the law. What can this country preacher from Galilee teach him? Still, his mind is not entirely closed. I wouldn’t be surprised if there wasn’t a little desire to show off how smart he was in front of a large crowd as well as a desire to be known and understood by this charismatic teacher.

Then, of course, there’s Jesus. We already know his prayer from the preceding passage, so he must see this as a delicious gift, offered for him to reinforce his point about who does and does not truly understand and appreciate, in humility, God’s ways. Jesus must have a sense of humor and delight in the ironies of life. I also imagine Jesus had compassion for this impressive scholar who had difficulty seeing through his own blind spots. Jesus sets him up gently and lets him down rather easily. He lets the lawyer seal his own fate. In no other place in the reports of Jesus’ ministry is his ability as a story teller and teacher of wisdom more aptly illustrated than here.

In the best Socratic Method, the lawyer’s question is countered with a question. “What is written in the law? What do you read there? As a scholar of the law, you know the answer to this question” Have you ever raised your hand to ask a question to which you were pretty sure you knew the answer, just to show the professor how smart you were or how well-prepared you were or to show up your class mates or maybe even your professor? You know how the lawyer must have felt. Everyone there probably had some basic understanding of the two great commandments to love God with one’s whole being and to love one’s neighbor as one’s self. “You have given the right answer;” Jesus says, “do this, and you will live.”
Now, how many times have you found yourself not willing to leave well enough alone? Question asked, question answered, move on. But no, I have to justify myself. I have to try to save face. I have to show what was behind my asking a question to which I knew the answer. Maybe, if I press this, I can still prove my intellectual prowess and superiority in knowledge of the law. Or maybe the question of “Who is my neighbor?” is another real and nagging question.

Jesus is ready. “Let me tell you a little story…” There was a traveler; everyone probably assumes he is Jewish, given those who make up the crowd and the conversation, though we are not really told. If he is traveling alone, he is either naïve or a fool. He becomes a total victim and, in the human story, we know that total victims are all too real. Those who are beaten up and beaten down, who are ridiculed, robbed, cheated and blown up by roadside bombs are familiar to us. Maybe some of us have been in that position in our own lives.

The priest and the Levite, though individual characters, seem to be plagued by the same dilemma. It is possible that they are the kind of good, proper, law-abiding citizens who just don’t want to get involved in a messy and potentially complicated situation. What if the man by the side of the road is a decoy, used by bandits to lure gullible and soft-hearted travelers? If the man is indeed dead and they touch him, they become defiled and will not be able to carry out their religious responsibilities until they can be ritually purified. This, in some sense, means risking their livelihood, there purpose in life, and it is too great a risk on this day. They are not necessarily bad people. How many of us have ever found ourselves in the position of not wanting to risk getting involved in messy situations that could cost us valuable time, money, social standing, etc.? It’s not that were bad folk, we’re just…busy.

Then there is the Samaritan. Now for the first hearers of this parable, no one is expecting the hero to be a Samaritan; perhaps some working class stiff like many of those in the crowd – a fisherman, a shepherd, a housewife, a child, maybe even a tax collector, but surely not a Samaritan. If you were to look deeply into your own heart, who is the person you would imagine least likely to offer compassion? If you ever secretly demonize someone or some class of people in the secrecy of your soul, who would that be? Now, THAT is the hero of the story for you, the one who shows compassion, the one who stoops to care for you or your child or your parent or your friend in dire need.

We have tended to see the Samaritan as poor, perhaps because he is an outcast, but it seems more likely that he is a competent merchant and traveler, perhaps an old horse or donkey or camel trader. Clearly, he has the resources to care for the wounded man, perhaps taken from his caravan as it travels the Jericho road. And he has the credit to arrange for the man’s care for some time into the future. Savvy as he may be, his heart is still one that is compelled to compassion, one that will not, cannot, leave another human being lying by the side of the road. Whatever his deadline, his full agenda, his time-sensitive cargo, he makes time to care for his neighbor in need.

“Which of these three,” asks Jesus of the stunned lawyer, “do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” It requires no advanced degree, no special education, no religious sanctification to answer this question correctly. This is not rocket science. “The one who showed him mercy, compassion.” A clear and simple response, as is Jesus’ final instruction, “Go and do likewise.” Perhaps this is a word for us as well.

There are no strangers.
Tears shed in compassion…
songs of love and dreams of peace
make us all one.
Recognize your family in the stranger
Open your door, invite them in
to sit at your table
and share your bread.
Call no one stranger
whose roots are kin to your own…
whose lives all spring from the
One Great Fountain of Life!
(from Patricia Mulhall, “Call No One Stranger,” On Frequent Journeys: Worship Resources on Uprooted People, p. 119)