There’s a whole genre of movies that basically aim to re-tell history – to tell the untold story behind the well-known tale. The most recent that comes to mind is one with possibly the longest title I’ve ever heard: The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. There’s something pretty appealing about looking at a familiar story in a very different light.
Jesus was a master storyteller. In Luke’s Gospel, we see one lawyer on a mission to test him, and Jesus turns the tables on the lawyer – simply by not giving a direct answer. I’m pretty sure the lawyer blinked hard a couple of times at that. It’s what lawyers are famous for, isn’t it?
“Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
“In the Law, what has been written? How do you read it?”
The lawyer is suddenly answering his own question. And he’s good with the answer, too. His reply comes from two different books of Moses’ law – widely spaced but equally recognized by Pharisee and Sadducee. Deuteronomy 6:5 “You will love the Lord your God with all your heart and your soul and your mind and your strength.” Leviticus 19:18; “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”
Jesus twists the lawyer’s tail a bit, too – “You have given the right answer; do this and you shall live.” The lawyer, out to trap, gets his own answer approved by his target.
The lawyer’s been considerably embarrassed. Jewish society put a lot of store in word-plays and cleverness with language – and a lawyer should be at the top of his game. Jesus has just flipped him, though, and he’s wearing a little egg.
It’s hardly surprising that his next question is put out there to justify himself. “'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ And who is my neighbor?”
At this point, Jesus tells a rather surprising tale. We’re all used to it, we’ve known it since Sunday School or Kids Church or Scripture – the Good Samaritan. My guess is that if you all had a sheet of paper, you’d be able to scribble the main line of the story down pretty quickly, and maybe even word-for-word.
Here’s a surprise. Jesus’ listeners would have been able to do the same (well, those who could write), and their answer would be longer than yours. It wasn’t called the Good Samaritan, but it was a well-known Greek story. And Greek stories were popular, even in Jewish Palestine.
There was a guy, and he was really down on his luck. He was walking from Jerusalem to Jericho, and the one thing guaranteed to happen to a guy down on his luck… happened. He got robbed, stripped, beaten to within an inch of his life and left for vulture-bait.
Man number one walks past and does exactly the right thing – he gives him a wide berth. Jesus adds the element that he was a priest who ran the risk of becoming unclean. An unclean priest would be as welcome in Jerusalem as one of Bob’s breakfasts – so he does the sensible thing. Jesus’ audience would have approved. A Levite does exactly the same thing, for the same reason. Good call.
But along comes the stumblebum – Jesus adds a local touch for good measure; the stumblebum’s a Samaritan. This guy is the butt of more jokes than a Kiwi sheep farmer. He’s actually considered an unperson – worse than a Gentile. He’s the idiot, he’s the fall-guy of the story.
Jesus was a master storyteller. In Luke’s Gospel, we see one lawyer on a mission to test him, and Jesus turns the tables on the lawyer – simply by not giving a direct answer. I’m pretty sure the lawyer blinked hard a couple of times at that. It’s what lawyers are famous for, isn’t it?
“Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
“In the Law, what has been written? How do you read it?”
The lawyer is suddenly answering his own question. And he’s good with the answer, too. His reply comes from two different books of Moses’ law – widely spaced but equally recognized by Pharisee and Sadducee. Deuteronomy 6:5 “You will love the Lord your God with all your heart and your soul and your mind and your strength.” Leviticus 19:18; “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”
Jesus twists the lawyer’s tail a bit, too – “You have given the right answer; do this and you shall live.” The lawyer, out to trap, gets his own answer approved by his target.
The lawyer’s been considerably embarrassed. Jewish society put a lot of store in word-plays and cleverness with language – and a lawyer should be at the top of his game. Jesus has just flipped him, though, and he’s wearing a little egg.
It’s hardly surprising that his next question is put out there to justify himself. “'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ And who is my neighbor?”
At this point, Jesus tells a rather surprising tale. We’re all used to it, we’ve known it since Sunday School or Kids Church or Scripture – the Good Samaritan. My guess is that if you all had a sheet of paper, you’d be able to scribble the main line of the story down pretty quickly, and maybe even word-for-word.
Here’s a surprise. Jesus’ listeners would have been able to do the same (well, those who could write), and their answer would be longer than yours. It wasn’t called the Good Samaritan, but it was a well-known Greek story. And Greek stories were popular, even in Jewish Palestine.
There was a guy, and he was really down on his luck. He was walking from Jerusalem to Jericho, and the one thing guaranteed to happen to a guy down on his luck… happened. He got robbed, stripped, beaten to within an inch of his life and left for vulture-bait.
Man number one walks past and does exactly the right thing – he gives him a wide berth. Jesus adds the element that he was a priest who ran the risk of becoming unclean. An unclean priest would be as welcome in Jerusalem as one of Bob’s breakfasts – so he does the sensible thing. Jesus’ audience would have approved. A Levite does exactly the same thing, for the same reason. Good call.
But along comes the stumblebum – Jesus adds a local touch for good measure; the stumblebum’s a Samaritan. This guy is the butt of more jokes than a Kiwi sheep farmer. He’s actually considered an unperson – worse than a Gentile. He’s the idiot, he’s the fall-guy of the story.
As evidence of his stupidity, he is filled with compassion at the sight of this beaten-up man lying on the road. He does some field first-aid with oil and wine and bandage, picks up the man, slings him over the donkey, takes him to an inn, and pays for the guy to stay until he’s better.
Familiar? Sort of…
The well-known story would continue. Bad luck was contagious. You never went to help someone who was unlucky enough to be robbed and left in the nude. You only lent an out-of-luck person a tiny bit of money. Bad luck was actively contagious, and would – at this point in the story – literally jump from the victim to the Samaritan, and the audience would cheer as a good storyteller would pile on the misfortunes that would follow the idiot that stopped to help. This was the turning-point in the story. Not just for the Samaritan, either. The guy who was beaten up would wake up in a hotel, fully paid-for, and would stay a long, long time. His bad luck had left him! Free holiday!
This is the point in the story when everyone would be leaning forward, listening in for the catalogue of woe that was about to descend on this Samaritan’s head. But Jesus is no ordinary story-teller. Right at the climax, he chops the story dead.
Right at the point where the Samaritan leaves himself open to be financially fleeced – “Take care of him, and when I come back I will repay you whatever more you spend” – Jesus shuts the story down, turns to the lawyer.
“Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?”
He said, “The one who showed him mercy.”
And Jesus said to him, “You go, and you do the same.”
And twice the lawyer has the question come back at him. Once gently, and once with a lot of force. Who is my neighbor? Wrong question, champ. Who is that person’s neighbor? Who is that person’s?
The well-known story would continue. Bad luck was contagious. You never went to help someone who was unlucky enough to be robbed and left in the nude. You only lent an out-of-luck person a tiny bit of money. Bad luck was actively contagious, and would – at this point in the story – literally jump from the victim to the Samaritan, and the audience would cheer as a good storyteller would pile on the misfortunes that would follow the idiot that stopped to help. This was the turning-point in the story. Not just for the Samaritan, either. The guy who was beaten up would wake up in a hotel, fully paid-for, and would stay a long, long time. His bad luck had left him! Free holiday!
This is the point in the story when everyone would be leaning forward, listening in for the catalogue of woe that was about to descend on this Samaritan’s head. But Jesus is no ordinary story-teller. Right at the climax, he chops the story dead.
Right at the point where the Samaritan leaves himself open to be financially fleeced – “Take care of him, and when I come back I will repay you whatever more you spend” – Jesus shuts the story down, turns to the lawyer.
“Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?”
He said, “The one who showed him mercy.”
And Jesus said to him, “You go, and you do the same.”
And twice the lawyer has the question come back at him. Once gently, and once with a lot of force. Who is my neighbor? Wrong question, champ. Who is that person’s neighbor? Who is that person’s?
The one who shows him mercy.
You go, and you do the same.
Reg has been encouraging us to begin to start praying for our neighbors – to pick three neighboring families, and to pray for them. Not just pray for them, but pray that they will be receptive to the Gospel, receptive to the moving and powerful Word of God, receptive to the saving love of our Saviour. I think that that’s one of the best things that we can do – long-term, planned prayer for our neighbors so that their hearts will be softened to the Good Message of our Lord’s grace.
But they’re not the only ones, are they? When we go out that door, we’ll re-enter the world of men, and the world of men is a place where the bruised and the mugged and the robbed and the crippled are lying on the ground. Occasionally physically, sometimes chemically, mostly spiritually. We know who they are.
We know that the wisdom of the world hasn’t changed. Leave them alone. Stay focused on your career – a workmate with a tarnished reputation can harm your own image, and these days your image is your worth. Step around them, do what you must do, but do not pity. It’s weakness, and it’ll be seen, and the bad luck will flow. You’ll lose value in the transaction. Save your reputation, only spend when there’s something in it for you.
The true, untold story of the Good Samaritan hasn’t stopped. It still rumbles on. If we listen, it’s very, very familiar – particularly in the world of men.
Jesus has marked out our place. Who is our neighbor? Wrong question. Who is that person’s neighbor? And that person’s?
Reg has been encouraging us to begin to start praying for our neighbors – to pick three neighboring families, and to pray for them. Not just pray for them, but pray that they will be receptive to the Gospel, receptive to the moving and powerful Word of God, receptive to the saving love of our Saviour. I think that that’s one of the best things that we can do – long-term, planned prayer for our neighbors so that their hearts will be softened to the Good Message of our Lord’s grace.
But they’re not the only ones, are they? When we go out that door, we’ll re-enter the world of men, and the world of men is a place where the bruised and the mugged and the robbed and the crippled are lying on the ground. Occasionally physically, sometimes chemically, mostly spiritually. We know who they are.
We know that the wisdom of the world hasn’t changed. Leave them alone. Stay focused on your career – a workmate with a tarnished reputation can harm your own image, and these days your image is your worth. Step around them, do what you must do, but do not pity. It’s weakness, and it’ll be seen, and the bad luck will flow. You’ll lose value in the transaction. Save your reputation, only spend when there’s something in it for you.
The true, untold story of the Good Samaritan hasn’t stopped. It still rumbles on. If we listen, it’s very, very familiar – particularly in the world of men.
Jesus has marked out our place. Who is our neighbor? Wrong question. Who is that person’s neighbor? And that person’s?
The one who shows him mercy.
We go. And we do the same.
In Jesus’ name...
We go. And we do the same.
In Jesus’ name...
Amen
Artwork: Gustave Dore: Arrival of the Good Samaritan at the Inn (Woodcut) taken from http://reformedfaith.wordpress.com/2008/06/06/is-the-good-samaritan-no-more/ which is an interesting story, too...
Note: Scripture quotes from the UBS4 Greek.
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