Who Is My Neighbor? (Part 1)

For the next few days, I would like to consider with you what must be seen as one of the most familiar and popular of all the parables taught by Christ—the story of the good Samaritan. The title normally given to this story (“The Parable of the Good Samaritan”), however, may be misleading. That simple title (along with the ever-present danger of over-allegorizing parables in general) can cause us to miss the powerful message inherent in this story. It is not simply about being nice to people or caring about it when others are mistreated or responding when others are in need—valuable as those principles are. It is about how we answer one of the most fundamental of all questions: Who is my neighbor? The fact that that this story deals with a question is where our examination of this story should begin.

Part One: An Interesting Dialogue

And a lawyer stood up and put Him to the test, saying, “Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?” (Luke 10:25; NASB)

This is but one of many of Christ’s great teaching moments that flows from an interruption. Jesus has been teaching (see vv.18-24) a crowd, then turns aside to have a private moment with the Twelve. Just then, however a lawyer interrupts Him and asks a question that will ultimately be resolved in the Samaritan parable. One writer described him:

We study his face carefully. Tradition and training are carved into his features. At the center of his forehead is a meticulously positioned phylactery, symbolizing his orthodoxy. A small, back calfskin box containing sacred passages. We wonder what the symbolic adornment means to the man as he asks his question…
“Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?”

Now, it must be understood that this was a common question to ask Christ and was the subject of much theological debate in that day. One popular rabbi of the day, Hillel, had written, “He that gets to himself the words of the Torah, gets to himself eternal life.” It was a life that was not merely long-lasting, it was life indeed—full, complete and abundant, both now and forever. The facts, however, reveal two interesting things about this oh-so-common question as it comes from the lawyer’s lips:

• It is born of false motives. The attitude (v.25) is one of testing. The word usually carries the idea of hostility, and was used by Jesus to warn Satan not to tempt God and by Paul to warn the Corinthians not to tempt Christ. Additionally (v.29), he wants a basis for self-justification, reminding us that not everyone who asks questions wants to learn.
• It is based on a false assumption. It is rooted in the assumption that eternal life is something to be achieved—though the NT calls it “the gift of God.”

Jesus’ response was priceless—“You’re the lawyer. What do you think is necessary?”

And He said to him, “What is written in the Law? How does it read to you?” (v.26)

In His typical (almost frustrating) style, Jesus answers the question by asking two more.

• What is the word on this in the Law?
• What is your interpretation of it?

How does someone summarize the essence and intent of the Law? Amazingly, the man gives the right answer, quoting the Torah… (v.27)

• “Love God with all you are” (Deut.6:5)
• “Love your neighbor.” (Lev.19:18)

This is the essence of the Law—full and complete love for God and for man. Jesus commends the man for an accurate answer, but drives the point home to reverse the direction of the test, “Do this and you will live.” (v.28)

Now, to this, the man’s reaction should have been, “How can I? I need help.” The point of the answer was to point out the perfect standard of the Law, so that the man could confess his inability to keep it, but he doesn’t. Instead of throwing himself on the mercy of the court, the lawyer looks for a legal loophole! Rather than accept the terms as declared, he seeks to redefine them. The way out? The only way to justify himself is to limit the extent of the law’s demand, and, as a result, limit his own responsibility, so he raises the question:

• “Who is my neighbor?” (v.29)

And now we come to it. This, as they say, is where the shoe pinches. First century Israel had its own ways of answering that question, having already perverted Leviticus 19:18 into, “Love your neighbor, hate your enemy.” Now they had to redefine “neighbor.” It was defined as:

• The Israelite (gentiles were accursed)
• The fellow Pharisee (rabble was accursed- Jn. 7:49)
• Those of Qumran (the rest were darkness)

Does that sound familiar? The lawyer wants to redefine the terms for two reasons:

• To limit his own responsibility
• To excuse his own biases and prejudices

In his book Flyboys, James Bradley gives us an interesting take on this. He discusses how, in war, we dehumanize others in order to enable normal people to do abnormal things to other people. Not only do we not have to love, we are excused for hating—even justified for it! This is the basis of ethnic hatred and racial strife…

They (whoever they are) are something less, something else—therefore it is okay. We can engage in hatred, extermination, ethnic cleansing, whatever, because they are less than human because they are ______ (fill in the blanks).

At its core, this simple question (“who is my neighbor?”) and what it is intended to allow opens the door for the Holocaust (because Jews are “less than”), the Rwandan massacres (because Tstutsis are “less than”), racism (because blacks, Hispanics, or Asians are “less than”), and the most inhuman treatment of others (because native Americans are “less than”). We hold the door to such atrocities open when we refer to others with pejorative terms and labels (slang, negative names). We do it with legal declarations and social stipulations.

And all of it feels justified because I have excused myself from having to call them “neighbor.” However, not only will this legal maneuvering fail, Jesus will use it against him to turn the issue from passive feelings to active behavior.

We’ll see how on Wednesday…