The parable of the Good Samaritan, found only in the gospel of Luke, is one of the great stories of the Bible, the essence of Jesus’ teaching, showing as it does the way of his kingdom, with its emphasis on meeting the needs of others, on our common humanity with all people that on earth do dwell. Jesus tells the story to illustrate the Great Commandment of the Law: “Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.” In Luke’s telling of this episode, the legal mind, hoping to set a limit to God’s inclusive injunction, asks the question, “Who is my neighbour?” which gives Jesus the opportunity to tell this great parable.
Jesus uses the Good Samaritan as an answer to the question, “Who is my neighbour?” The answer is so obvious, even the expert in the law gets it: “anyone in need of mercy”—even your worst enemy. The connection between the wounded man and the Samaritan is their common humanity.
A man falls into the hands of thieves, is robbed and left to die unless help comes. Two priests pass by, ignore the man’s obvious need and hurry on their way. But a third man, from Samaria, stops, cares for his wounds, transports him to an inn where he is fed and cared for. Any further expenses incurred by the innkeeper will be covered when the Samaritan returns at a later date.
The full impact of the story is lost to us today unless we understand the tense relationship between the Jews of that time and the people of Samaria. The Samaritans and the Jews were hated enemies. Samaritans were not allowed in the temple of Jerusalem and Jews prayed that God would give them no share in eternal life. In the previous chapter of the gospel of Luke which we read two Sundays ago, Jesus’ disciples want “to command fire to come down from heaven and consume” a Samaritan village which refused to receive him. The Samaritans were Jews, actually, but to the Israelite audience of this parable, the Samaritans were unclean half-breeds; the historical rift between the two peoples was huge. The gospel of John puts it succinctly: “Jews have no dealings with Samaritans” (4:9).
The listeners of Jesus’ parable would have gasped in surprise at the positive characterization of this loathed enemy; they’d have been shocked and appalled. The Samaritan was an outsider, a foreigner, yet Jesus uses the Good Samaritan as an answer to the question, “Who is my neighbour?” The answer is so obvious, even the expert in the law gets it: “anyone in need of mercy”—even your worst enemy. The connection between the wounded man and the Samaritan is their common humanity. The parable is consistent with the unique teachings of Jesus found in Luke’s gospel during the Sermon on the Mount, immediately following the Beatitudes: “I say to you who hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you.”
The parable of the Good Samaritan is relevant two millennia after Christ, because its power runs deeper than its obvious meaning. The parable has the familiar three-fold structure of a folktale (one person, two persons, three persons), but if Jesus wanted to illustrate neighbourliness, he could have used a priest, a Levite and then a Jewish lay person; with such a contrast, he would also have challenged the temple authorities and the purity laws, as he did so often in his teaching. If he had wished to illustrate to his audience, “Love your enemy,” the story could have portrayed a Jew helping a wounded Samaritan. That would have been conceivable to his audience and would have appealed to their pride. But the unexpected twist of placing the Samaritan in the heroic role forces Jesus’ Jewish listeners to contemplate what was for them the impossible: the word “Good” coupled with the word “Samaritan.” The expert of the law, and the other Jews present, could have dismissed the example by insisting that no Samaritan would ever act in such a way, but before Jesus poses his question at the end of the parable, “Which of these three, do you think, was neighbour to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?”
The audience must listen to a lengthy description—two verses, 66 words, the most attention given to any element in the story—involving the hearer in the sensual details of what this particular Samaritan did for this particular wounded Jew. Seeing, feeling, hearing the goodness of this Samaritan, the listener must answer Jesus’ question with the only answer possible: “The one who showed him mercy.”
As with so much of Jesus’ teaching, the parable reverses expectations, upsets accepted social barriers, challenges conventional attitudes. The road from Jerusalem to Jericho actually skirted Samaria, went around it, in order to avoid contact with these hated rivals; hence, that the Jew is rescued by a Samaritan adds further irony to the story. Jesus came breaking down barriers between people; when Jesus travelled from Galilee to Jerusalem, he passed through Samaria, he didn’t avoid it, and you’ll recall his conversation with the woman at the well, breaking down many barriers, racial, religious, gender. But the parable does more than merely illustrate an example; it actually enacts the realm of God, forcing its way into the entrenched opinions of the day, working imaginatively into hearts and minds, bringing about a re-birth, a renewed vision. The parable creates the very condition that the writer of Deuteronomy once described: “the word is very near to you; it is in your mouth and in your heart for you to observe.” The parable incarnates Jesus’ repeated insistence that “the kingdom of God is within you” (Luke 17:21). When the teachings of Jesus inspire us to imagine a different world, a different way of thinking and being, then the vision becomes a reality; there’s no turning back once the ideal way of our Lord is conceived. Implanted in our heart and soul and mind, we have spiritual strength to love our neighbour.
The story can be understood in so many ways and experienced on so many levels; as in a dream, all the characters can symbolize a part of ourselves, a situation, an attitude: at times we are the robbers, exploiting, hurting others; we are the wounded man, unjustly wronged, bleeding, left for dead; we all too often are the priest and the Levite, passing by on the other side, not wanting to involve ourselves with unpleasant situations or unclean people; we are the expert in the law, seeking to justify ourselves, self-righteous, judgmental, keeping others out; but we are also the Good Samaritan, for that character represents the best that we can be, the ideal of compassion, neighbourliness, hospitality; and finally Jesus is part of us, his indwelling Spirit asking “which of the three do you think was neighbour to the man?” The Great Commandment calls us constantly to centre ourselves in God and to make the world a better place through compassion, justice and peace.
The parable of the Good Samaritan changes us forever, encourages us to see beyond race, creed and colour, to realize that everyone is our neighbour, a beloved child of God, deserving of our respect and compassion. Notice in the story that the two men never meet again. No lifelong friendship, no rich correspondence ensues. Just compassion to a neighbour on the journey. We must be compassionate as we travel through the days of our lives, toward The Other we meet on the way. The parable of the Good Samaritan inspires us to recognize the humanity of the stranger, to acknowledge the divine in the outsider. It is a brilliant story from our Lord Jesus, the Master Teacher.