A Troubling Day in the Neighborhood

I hate stories. Always have. You see I am a lawyer and in my legal training in the Jewish faith I always know to look out when someone starts a story. When I ask a rabbi for a legal opinion and he starts to ramble on about some figure in the scriptures or to talk about the example used by Rabbi Zerubbabel I know he's trying to avoid the question. So I just keep pushing until I can show him up or be proved wrong. But I'm rarely proved wrong.

But today I'm feeling a little stumped. There's a new teacher on the scene – one of these rabble-rousing prophets who wander through every so often with a cluster of disciples in their wake. Jesus was this man's name. He's gotten a bit of a reputation for his healings and his teachings. People are beginning to talk. Crowds are beginning to gather. Whenever one of these folks comes to town, it's time for one of us to put him in his place. So that's what I did. I think.

Jesus was sitting and teaching in our village. His disciples were nearby and they were nearly glowing. Someone told me they had just returned from a mission in which they had started to display some of the same signs as Jesus. They were on fire. But Jesus was still clearly the focus.

So I stood up. Sure it attracted attention. With me standing and Jesus sitting it looked like I was lording it over him. Looking down on him. But that's kind of my role. If someone is going to prove me wrong they're going to have to accept my challenge. And I'm rarely wrong.

I had my question all prepared. “Teacher,” I said, giving Jesus the honor of a title he hadn't earned. “Teacher, what do I have to do to get eternal life?” I was a little worried about this. Some of the more traditional Jews would not have started with a question about eternal life. Not everyone believes in it. But Jesus seems to and I wanted to see how he put all the pieces together. How would he talk about the obligations of the Law and the promise of the resurrection? I was ready to take notes.

He responded with a question. A common trick of teachers. Put the question back on the questioner. “What does the Law say?” he asked. “How do you read it?” But that was no trap for me. I responded with my favorite summary of the Law. One which Jesus himself used on occasion.

“The Law says you shall love God with your whole heart, your whole soul, you whole strength and your whole mind, and you shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

He seemed pleased with this and tried to end the conversation right there. “That's right,” he said. “Do this and you will live.” But he hadn't really talked about the reward of eternal life and he hadn't gotten himself into any trouble. I would have to draw him out more to give him enough rope to hang himself. I needed to get him talking about the particulars of the Law. I needed to get him to give me a controversial legal opinion. Something I could use to nail him and tell the crowds, “See! I told you he was not to be trusted.”

Besides I was standing there looking like an overanxious student looking for a head pat. So I pushed him. “Jesus,” I said, “but who is my neighbor?” This was a slippery slope for Jesus. If he got into sorting out who was lovable and who wasn't he was bound to offend somebody. The people are so divided that they all have some lines they won't cross.

THAT'S when he told a story. Right then. No introduction. Just launched into a story. I know I wasn't the only one scratching my head at what came next. He starts to tell a story about a man taking a trip from Jerusalem down to Jericho. Right away it was a strange thing to do. The Jericho Road is a dangerous stretch of highway. Not only is it steep but it's prime territory for bandits. A person traveling that road would want a companion and it seems this man didn't have one. I kept listening, wondering when he would start to talk about neighbors.

The next part of the story was predictable. The man was ambushed by a group of robbers on the road. They stripped him, beat him, left him for dead on the side of the road. Well, of course. What was he thinking going down a road like that without any protection? I'm surprised they didn't cut his throat. But this is a story and somewhere in this story, I'm thinking, Jesus better start talking about neighbors or I'm going to nail him.

The next part was also predictable. A priest comes by and sees the beat-up man but passes by on the other side of the road. Then a Levite, another worker in the Temple comes by and does the same thing. Of course these folks were not going to stop because they have holy professions with strict rules about remaining pure. They could not have helped the man because he was probably bloody and they didn't know if he was dead. If they defiled themselves by coming into contact with the blood or a dead body they would be unable to perform their duties for the Temple...for God. Nothing surprising yet.

Then Jesus gets to the heart of the story. Somebody finally does stop by and this...this is really disturbing. The guy who stops is a Samaritan. Now you know about Samaritans. They are...well, they're half-breeds. Not really Jews. Not really Gentiles. But some strange mixture of races. And even though we live cheek by jowl with them, true Jews have nothing to do with them.

I know that Jesus has a thing about the Samaritans, though. Someone told me that he had a confrontation with the Samaritans not too long ago. He and the disciples were traveling through Samaria on their way towards Jerusalem and the disciples had gone ahead on into the town to find a place for them to stay. But the Samaritans were having none of it. They knew that Jesus was a Jew and that he was headed to Jerusalem, the capital of the Jewish people. So they gave the disciples the cold shoulder.

The disciples were mad, though I really don't know why they were surprised. They came back to Jesus and said, “Do you want us to call down fire from heaven and wipe out this village?” I'd've wanted to do the same thing. But Jesus called them down for it. And they just kept walking.

So here he is telling this story about a Samaritan traveling alone along the Jericho road. No smarter than the man who got beaten up. He doesn't have any protection either. But when he sees the man lying their bloody and half-dead, what does he do? He has compassion for him. Doesn't know him from Adam, but he has compassion for him. He comes over and...and this is really a foolish and extravagant thing to do...he takes the man and binds up his wounds and then he pours oil and...and not just oil, which I can understand, but wine...he pours oil and wine on his wounds and then puts him on his donkey to take him into the next town.

But it doesn't end there. Jesus just goes over the top with this story. This Samaritan takes him to an inn and spends the night with him, caring for him into the next day. And then he goes to the innkeeper and gives him two denarii, which is like two days' wages, and says, “Look, you take care of him and if you spend any more in addition, when I come back I will repay you.” It's like an open account! He has no idea how much it's actually going to cost to help this man heal. He could be taken advantage of by the man or the innkeeper.

Well, if Jesus was trying to paint the picture of a man who was willing to give without measure, he surely did it in creating this character. A man from another land who loves this broken down, beat up human being so much that he would pour out wine on him like blood from an open wound, who would nurse him and then promise to return to finish the job – this is too much.

So it caught me by surprise when Jesus finished the story by asking me another question. “Which of these three seems to you to have been the neighbor to the one who fell into the hands of the robbers?” I was caught so off-guard that I didn't have time to realize that he wasn't answering my question. I wanted to know who we were supposed to love as a neighbor. That's what I had asked Jesus. And now he was asking me who was doing the loving! He had turned this question around so that it was no longer about the object of our love – who it is that we're supposed to care for. In fact in Jesus' that was the most unclear thing. All we know about the man being cared for was that he was walking to Jericho. I assume he was a fool, too, but Jesus didn't say that.

But that's not even the point. What Jesus was asking me was about the subject of our love – who's doing the loving. And of the three choices on offer – the priest, the Levite and the Samaritan – it was pretty obvious who was the one loving, even if it was extreme and extravagant.

I couldn't bring myself to say it. To admit in front of a Jewish audience that a Samaritan was the hero of the story? I just couldn't do it. So I just said, “The one acting like a neighbor to the beaten up man was...the one who showed him mercy.”

And at that moment I should have pressed the point. I should have kept going and questioned Jesus about his feelings toward Samaritans...about whether he really was concerned about keeping the traditions of our ancestors. But he had me confused. He hadn't answered my question on my terms. Instead he had told me a story. A story! I told you how I feel about stories. And after the story I was left with the choice of defending the integrity of religious figures going about their tasks while a man bled to death on the side of the road or admitting that a foreigner understood mercy better than they did. So I swallowed my pride and played along.

But then Jesus gave me a command. This is not how I wanted this to end. He looked at me...and he really looked at me...with those piercing, loving eyes and said, “Go and do likewise.”

Now I understand that that's when he answered my question. Who is the neighbor? It's the person who acts like one. Who is the neighbor? It's the one who gives without counting the cost, even when it seems foolish and extravagant. Who is the neighbor? It's me. If I can let myself love enough to see the person right in front of me who may be wounded and dying and needing me to spend some time at their side.

I hate stories. They make me question everything I think I believe. And they make me

say foolish things. Such as – I want to love like that Good Samaritan so that I can learn to love like God. Thanks be to God.

Luke 10:25-37
Just then a certain lawyer put him to the test.
--Jesus, what must I do to inherit eternal life?
--What does the law say? How do you read it?
--You shall love the Lord your God with your whole heart and your whole soul and your whole strength and your whole mind and your neighbor as yourself.
--You have answered correctly. Do this and you will live.
But he wanted to justify himself, so he said to Jesus,
--So who is my neighbor?
--A certain man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho and he fell into the hands of robbers who stripped him and beat him and went off leaving him half-dead. Now as chance would have it, a certain priest was going down that road and when he saw him he passed by on the other side. In the same way a Levite, when he came to that place and saw what was going on, passed by on the other side.
But a Samaritan who was traveling came upon him and he was moved with compassion when he saw him. Coming to him, he bound up his wounds, poured oil and wine on them, and placed him on his own beast of burden. He brought him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii and gave to the innkeeper and said, 'Care for him and if you spend any more in addition, when I return I will repay you.'
Which of these three seems to you to have been the neighbor to the one who fell into the hands of robbers?
--The one doing mercy to him.
--Go and do likewise.