Who Is My Neighbor? —Lectionary Reflection for 6C (Luke 10:25-37)

 Luke 10:25-37 New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition

²⁵ An expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” ²⁶ He said to him, “What is written in the law? What do you read there?” ²⁷ He answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind and your neighbor as yourself.” ²⁸ And he said to him, “You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.”

²⁹ But wanting to vindicate himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” ³⁰ Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and took off, leaving him half dead. ³¹ Now by chance a priest was going down that road, and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. ³² So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. ³³ But a Samaritan while traveling came upon him, and when he saw him he was moved with compassion. ³⁴ He went to him and bandaged his wounds, treating them with oil and wine. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. ³⁵ The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him, and when I come back I will repay you whatever more you spend.’ ³⁶ Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” ³⁷ He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

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                Christians in places like the United States are facing a challenging question. That’s because we’re watching as the President of the United States insults neighbors like Canada and Mexico. ICE officers wearing masks and refusing to identify themselves are rounding up people from neighborhoods across the country, going into places that previously had been sacrosanct, including religious communities, schools, and hospitals. Congress and the President have passed a bill that gives the wealthy increased tax breaks, while cutting back on programs that benefit the “least of these.” Efforts to rid the nation of efforts to make sure that our government, schools, and businesses embrace the nation’s diversity, seek to be inclusive, and make sure that things are equitable are underway. Many Christians, mostly white Christians, are on board with these efforts. One wonders what Jesus might think of what is happening. 

                It is in this political climate that we hear this parable about a Samaritan who rescues a man who has been attacked and thrown into a ditch. The man who has been attacked is probably Jewish, which makes this story challenging to those who fear the stranger. This parable offered by Jesus answers a question posed by an “expert in the Law” who wants to know what one must do to inherit eternal life. When Jesus asks him what the Law says, he answers with the two great commandments—love God (the Shema—Deut. 6:5) and love your neighbor (Lev 19:18).  Jesus told the expert in the law that he had answered correctly. Just love God and your neighbor, and you will live. While the lawyer answered correctly, he wanted to clarify something. He wanted to know an answer to a different question: “Who is my neighbor?” Or, as The Message puts it: “Looking for a loophole, he asked, “And just how would you define ‘neighbor’?” Yes, who is my neighbor? Surely, it’s someone who looks, thinks, and believes like I do. After all, isn’t that why we created all kinds of barriers that kept people apart in the name of property values?

                As you might expect, Jesus had different ideas. He offered an expansive vision of neighborliness, which he illustrated with this parable about the Samaritan assisting a person who had been mugged and left to die by bandits. It’s a story that has gone viral through the centuries, such that today we speak of the Good Samaritan as someone who stops to help another in need.  As Amy-Jill Levine notes: “The parable of the Good Samaritan has come to mean whatever we want it to mean. In one respect, this inevitable appropriation is to be appreciated. Texts should always take on new meaning as they are encountered by new readers from new cultural contexts. However, texts also have their own original context” [Levine,  Short Stories by Jesus: The EnigmaticParables of a Controversial Rabbi (Kindle p. 80)]. As Levine notes, we might use the text in a way that suits our purposes, but it does have an original context. We often miss the point when it comes to the identity of the Samaritan.

The person Jesus points to as the one who expresses what it means to be the neighbor isn’t just anyone who stops to help. This person is the one whose willingness to help is quite unexpected. That is because Jews and Samaritans, though related, hated each other. They didn’t consider each other neighbors. Many Jews who traveled from Galilee to Judea took the long route to avoid going through Samaria. We’ve already seen how Samaritans and Jews viewed each other in an earlier reflection. In Luke 9, a Samaritan village refused to welcome Jesus because he was heading to Jerusalem (Luke 9:51-56). So, how would a Samaritan encounter a man who had been mugged on the road between Jericho and Jerusalem? In any case, Jesus uses a story that features a Samaritan to convey his understanding of neighborliness.

                In this story, Jesus tells of a man who was traveling between Jericho and Jerusalem, a notoriously dangerous road known for banditry. As one might expect, he was mugged by robbers who stripped him of everything he had on him, beat him, and left him half dead. Although this man isn’t identified, one would assume that he was Jewish. Here is where things get interesting. Jesus is about to set up a contrasting image to define neighborliness.

                Jesus tells us that a priest was traveling down the same road. When he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. Jesus doesn’t tell us why he did this, though interpreters have filled in the blanks, suggesting perhaps that the man was dead. If so, touching him would contaminate him, causing him to become unclean, thus preventing him from serving in the Temple. Of course, none of that is included in the story. Jesus then tells us that a Levite (a member of the priestly tribe) also passed by on the other side, avoiding the man in the ditch. Again, we’re not told why. Perhaps he was afraid he might get mugged himself. If that were the case, we probably can understand the Levite’s dilemma. Who wants to put themselves in a dangerous situation? Jesus doesn’t explain why these two figures might fail to help the man in distress. What Jesus might be thinking here is that these two religious figures are the kinds of people we would expect to help a person in need. Isn’t that what clergy are supposed to do? As an ordained minister, I must say that I do understand why these two religious leaders decided not to stop and help. Whatever the reasons for failing to help, they passed by on the other side.

                The story takes an unexpected turn when Jesus introduces the third person who passes by the man in the ditch. While the priest and Levite, whatever their reasons, pass by on the other side, this third person stops to check on the man in the ditch. This person happens to be a Samaritan who, according to Luke, was moved with pity when he saw the man in the ditch. He not only looked at the man and pitied him, but he was also moved by what he saw to help the man. The Samaritan bandaged the man's wound, pouring oil and wine on it. Not only that, but he put the man on his animal and took him to a local inn and continued to take care of him. The following day, needing to continue on his journey, the Samaritan gave the innkeeper two denarii to provide shelter and care for the man as he recovered. The Samaritan then told the innkeeper that when he returned, he would repay whatever else had been spent in the care of the man.

                After Jesus told this story, he asked the expert in the law: Which of the three figures was a neighbor to the man who was mugged? The expert responded, as he must, “the one who showed the man mercy. Jesus told him to go and do likewise. Jesus doesn’t make any explicit statements about the identity of the man who helped the person who had been mugged. But the contrast was there for the recipient of the Gospel to get the point. The religious leaders failed to respond, but a hated foreigner acted appropriately. We can fill in the blanks with modern characters. Maybe it’s a pastor and then a church elder who fail to help, while a Muslim or an undocumented immigrant from Africa or Central America stops to help. It’s the unexpected person who stands out, and the expert recognizes, perhaps reluctantly, that reality. Jesus simply tells the expert to follow the example of the one who showed mercy.

                The way we portray the characters is important because it’s too easy to use this passage in an anti-Jewish way. Then there is the way we use the adjective “good” to describe the Samaritan. I turn again to Amy-Jill Levine:

To label the Samaritan, any Samaritan, a “good Samaritan” should be, in today’s climate, seen as offensive. It is tantamount to saying, “He’s a good Muslim” (as opposed to all those others who, in this configuration, would be terrorists) or “She’s a good immigrant” (as opposed to all those others who, in this same configuration, are here to take our jobs or scam our welfare system), or, as Heinrich Himmler put it to a gathering of SS officers, every German “has his decent Jew”—that is, knows one good Jew—and as far as Himmler was concerned, even one was too many, because that might create sympathy. The problem with the labeling is not simply a lack of sensitivity toward the Samaritan people—yes, there are still Samaritans. It is also a lack of awareness of how odd the expression “good Samaritan” would have seemed to Jesus’s Jewish contemporaries. [Levine, Short Stories by Jesus (Kindle p. 81).]

With this reminder, we can catch the contrast. It is the unexpected one who stops to help. More importantly, even as this contrast catches our ear, we are reminded to go and do likewise. Fulfill the law of love by caring for the neighbor, whoever that might be.

                As we consider the message of this parable at a time when across the nation and even the globe, people are building walls around themselves, embracing forms of nationalism that are self-protective, cutting themselves off from others who might not be like them, perhaps the message here involves taking down the walls so we might love one another without asking questions about identity. To understand the parable, we might want to go back to the opening question, which has to do with salvation, which wasn’t something Jews normally spoke of. The expert in the law asks Jesus what one must do to experience salvation. Jesus responds with a question concerning what the Law had to say. The lawyer answered correctly—love God and neighbor, though he wanted to clarify the identity of the neighbor. In that regard, Stanley Saunders offers this take on the overarching question of salvation.

Salvation is found not in building walls, but in joining arms with the enemy and the alien---notions directly contrary to current political tendencies. Are our deeply held and ever-hardening political binaries congruent with our own faith?  Finally, when we read this story through our modern highly individualized and self-interested notions of salvation, we may end up in the same camp as the lawyer, who seems to have the right answers, but the wrong questions. How does this story challenge narrow, individualistic, formulaic, and self-justifying notions of salvation? [Connections, p. 158]

 It is easy to build walls. Taking them down is more difficult. Yet, that is what is needed right now. As I think about the parable and its overarching message, I have to think about a group of close friends who are Jewish, Muslim, and Hindu. We have worked hard at removing walls, and yet the realities of our world hinder that effort. But I hear Jesus saying, Show mercy. Show love.

                As we ponder these calls to show mercy and love, we can return to the lawyer’s question about the identity of the neighbor. It’s possible that the lawyer asked the wrong question or posed it in a way that would excuse him from loving his neighbor. If so, perhaps this parable speaks to contemporary debates about diversity, equity, and inclusion. Turning again to Amy-Jill Levine:

For our parable, the lawyer’s question is again misguided. To ask “Who is my neighbor” is a polite way of asking, “Who is not my neighbor?” or “Who does not deserve my love?” or “Whose lack of food or shelter can I ignore?” or “Whom I can hate?” The answer Jesus gives is, “No one.” Everyone deserves that love—local or alien, Jews or gentile, terrorist or rapist, everyone. [Levine, Short Stories by Jesus,  (Kindle, p. 93).]

Therefore, if the question before us isn’t about the identity of the neighbor whom I’m supposed to love, but who can I exclude from the definition of neighbor, so I don’t have to love them? That is, whom can I exclude from those whom Jesus would have me show mercy on? Is it the person who doesn’t share my religion, my politics, my ethnicity? Can I exclude the undocumented immigrant who is working in the fields, or meat-packing plants, or cleaning the hotel rooms?  Or maybe the ones who reveal true neighborliness are the members of a Mexican Search and Rescue team helping to rescue victims of the Texas floods.