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In the name of the Father and of the Father and of the T Son and of the Holy Spirit
Jesus answers two questions with this parable of the Good Samaritan:
First, what must I do to inherit eternal life?(Lk 10:25)
And, second, who is my neighbor?(10:29)
And in the process of answering these,
He teaches us something about us,
something about Him,
and something about what life with Him looks like.
It all starts with a question intended to trap Jesus:
“Teacher, what needs to be done that I inherit eternal life?”(10:25)
To which Jesus humbly responds,
“What’s it say in the Law?”(10:26)
And the lawyer rightly answers,
“You shall love the Lord your God from the whole of your heart
and with the whole of your soul
and with the whole of your strength,
and with the whole of your mind;
and your neighbor, just as yourself.”(10:27)
“That’s right!” Jesus says—that’s the orthodox answer.
“Now, go and do this and you’ll live.” (10:28)
The trap backfired; and naturally, the lawyer doesn’t want to look stupid.
So, “desiring to justify himself”—that is, “to make himself righteous”—
he asked another tempting question:
“and who is my neighbor?” (10:29)
That is to say, “who am I to love as myself?”
The answer that Jesus gives is our parable today.
And, in a word, we could say quite clearly that the answer is Jesus.
Jesus is the Good Samaritan.
He’s the one that proved to be a neighbor to the man fallen among the robbers.
Jesus is our neighbor;
and we are to love Him as ourselves;
and in so doing, we will live.
But if you’re anything like me, the doing is bit of a drudgery.
Love isn’t easy—not by a long shot—especially to someone else—even Jesus.
And to do this loving with the whole heart, soul, strength, and mind, is just impossible.
So while the lawyer set out to trap Jesus, he, in fact, got himself into a bit of a bind:
If I’ve got to do something to inherit eternal life;
and the doing can’t be done;
can I inherit eternal life?
No wonder he tried to justify himself!
Thank God he asked about his neighbor!
And that brings us to the parable…
But we go wrong with this parable when we see ourselves as the Samaritan.
Remember the question that sparked the parable: “And who is my neighbor?”
And at the end, Jesus flips it around: “And which of these three was a neighbor to the man?”
That is to say, this lawyer—whoever he is—
and we, who ask the same question,
whether out loud or just in the quiet of our troubled conscience,
are to be found in this parable as the man, fallen among the robbers,
and left half-dead.
We’re the fallen ones—
robbed of our dignity,
robbed of our freedom,
robbed of a will that desires what’s good, and true, and beautiful,
robbed of our original righteousness and peace and life.
And as those lying half-dead on the side of the road,
there’s nothing we can think, do, will, or say that could possibly restore us to life.
And those we’d consider our neighbors—
those who we tend to love as ourselves—
are those who offer no compassion and help when needed most.
Now, I don’t think this is a judgment against them, per se—it’s not their fault.
The Levite and Priest do nothing for the fallen man because they’re in the same boat—
they’ve just not met the robbers yet.
They suffer the same disease; they share a common fall.
And besides, once they pass by they’re out of the parable.
It’s about the man and the Samaritan—
you and the Lord, Jesus, a foreigner, an outsider, one not from among us.
Now, notice all that the Samaritan does in compassion for the man:
He went to him and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine.
Then He set him on His own animal and brought him to an inn and took care of him.
And the next day He took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper, saying,
‘Take care of him, and whatever more you spend,
I will repay you when I come back.’” (Lk 10:34-35)
All of this refers to the work of Christ for us—
His coming down in compassion to us,
His binding our wounds and applying the sacramental medicine of immortality,
His setting us on His own back, carrying us to the inn of the Church—
that hospital for sinners, and hospice for those robbed by the devil,
And even His paying all that’s necessary, promising even more on His return.
And wonderful as all that is, what makes it even more remarkable is His joy…
Do you think the Samaritan found it a burden to care for this man?
Do you think it was drudgery to hoist him on His donkey, and carry him to the inn?
Do you think He had second thoughts about paying the innkeeper?
Or wondered how long the stay might be,
checking His watch, wallet, and calendar?
Do you think He regretted the use of costly oils and all that went into his care?
Sure, that’s how we view those in need; but this Samaritan is different.
He’s not like us, not from around here—a foreigner to the greatest degree.
He’s God in human flesh.
And compassion and mercy and love are who He is in Himself—
He’s always toward the other.
For this God, it’s not drudgery to care for those half-dead on the side of the road.
It’s no burden to pay what’s needed, or to spend all He has on you.
For our God isn’t a God who’s anxious about His time,
or busy with other, more important things to do—
He’s not caught up in our selfish ambitions, desires, and needs.
Our God is the God of compassion, and He has His compassion with joy.
He delights in His Samaritan work.
He rejoices as He spots another slain on the road.
He runs with His help, smiles at the innkeeper;
and as He drops off another mortally wounded soul, “Put it on my tab,” He says.
Our God loves you.
And if you’ve got a different picture of God—
who rolls His eyes, or sighs deeply at your falling to the same sin all over again—
you’ve most certainly got the wrong god.
Ours is the Good Samaritan God,
whose strangeness is in His compassionate love to the dead and dying,
and in His total redemption of mankind in joy!
He didn’t go to the cross second guessing, or weighing His options—
no, His face was set toward Jerusalem, and He shed His blood for you in joy.
In another parable it goes like this:
“The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.” (Mt 13:44)
That man is Jesus;
and the selling all that He has is the cross;
and you are His treasure!
And in the letter to the Hebrews it says,
“and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us,
looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith,
who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross,
despising the shame,
and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.” (Heb 12:1-2)
With Christ, it’s all joy—not a bit of drudgery to be found.
So as we come back to our lawyer, seeking to justify himself—
and as we come back to all our plans of making things right with God—
let us hear again of the One who was a neighbor to us—Jesus Christ our Lord—
who with compassion has done all the love of God and neighbor for us,
and He’s done so with joy.
Now you, dear Christian—
no longer left half-dead on the side of the road,
now nursed to new life in Christ by His forgiving Word,
and strengthened and encouraged by His healing sacraments,
no longer robbed of your dignity, freedom, righteousness, and peace,
with a will that now seeks what is truly good and beautiful—
you, dear Christian,go, and do likewise; and do so with joy.
Love the Lord Your God who has done all things well for you.
And love your fallen neighbor as yourself.
Have compassion, and do it all with joy—for that’s what life with Jesus looks like.
“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing.” (Rom 15:13)
In the name of the Father and of the Father and of the T Son and of the Holy Spirit