It’s important to know a few things about what is happening in this narrative from Luke. First, this “expert in the law”, is trying to trip Jesus up. This question is a test. He should know that eternal life in his time was a gift freely given – one didn’t have to do anything to earn it. He is also being disrespectful by calling Jesus “teacher” rather than Lord.[1]
Another thing to keep in mind is that there is great 
animosity between the Samaritans and the Judeans (also known colloquially as the Jews) that went back centuries. They may worship the same God, but these two groups of people are on the outs with one another.
One last thing to note: The “expert” in asking Jesus to define who is his neighbor is really seeking some kind of boundary definition, as in tell me who is not my neighbor. As Amy Jill-Levine and Ben Witherington III in their commentary on Luke note, the question is really this: “Who is close enough to me that I must respond with love, as the commandment says?[2]
Who is in and who is out? Who is a stranger, and who is a neighbor and how can I tell? Who can I otherize or dehumanize and who can I embrace warmly with compassion? How can I justify my non-compassionate actions and still claim I follow Jesus?
And Jesus is having none of it. Instead, he reframes the story and the answer to show how one is supposed to live. He forces the “expert” to acknowledge that the neighbor is the merciful one.
Let’s explore this story. It is a familiar one isn’t it. A man is going down from Jerusalem to Jericho and the road he is traveling is known as a dangerous one. It is a twisty, turning road that provided hiding places for bandits to rob travelers. One hustles on this road even though it is 17 miles long – you don’t want to be attacked.
But sadly, as Jesus tells the story, a man has been stripped, robbed, beaten and left for dead along the side of the road. A priest comes by, sees the man and instead of stopping, crosses the road and hurries on by. The same with a Levite. Now why didn’t they stop. We have often heard in interpretations of this story that to stop would have meant they would become unclean which would then prevent them from performing Temple functions. They would not be pure.
But Levine and Witherington argue that this simply isn’t true – they are going away from Jerusalem not going towards the Temple. In all likelihood they would not be rushing to do priestly duties.[3] Now put yourself in the shoes of the priest and the Levite. Would you have stopped? Or would your fear of being robbed yourself have you not stopping? What would your question to yourself be as Martin Luther King, JR, asked in his last speech before his assassination: “If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?”[4]
Do we do that? Before we will help our neighbor in the broadest definition or even consider offering mercy or compassion, do we ask ourselves – what will happen to me if I do this? Or could it be that we don’t think the person is worthy of our help or our compassion. That this stranger can never be my neighbor because of how I want to narrowly define the term, just like the expert.
We don’t know why they didn’t stop – Jesus doesn’t add that part. But his listeners would have expected that these two, by the roles they occupied, would have stopped. That would have been the compassionate thing to do wouldn’t it? That would have been the neighborly thing to do wouldn’t it? That would have been the way to live out the love God and love neighbor as self commandment wouldn’t it? How shocked the listeners would have been by this act of callous disregard.
It would be like hearing of a medical professional who is too afraid to offer compassionate care to someone experiencing a miscarriage in states with laws that might throw them in prison for doing so. Isn’t that a legitimate fear? I wouldn’t want to go to prison. How do we overcome our fear to be the kind of Jesus followers who are kind and compassionate to the stranger who is really my neighbor. How do we individually and systemically address those fears?
Moving on to the great shocker of the story is the Samaritan who does stop. King writes that the Samaritan reversed the question by asking himself this: “If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?”[5] The Samaritan takes potential harm to himself out of the equation and instead stops to treat the one injured – bandaging his wounds, treating them with oil and wine, taking him to an inn where he could recover, and paying for that stay (and you have to love the innkeeper here who trusted the Samaritan enough to know he would come back to check on the man and give payment for whatever else he is owed).
A Samaritan! Jesus’ listeners would never have expected that! They would have been shocked by that ending. It’s hard to imagine their shock – just imagine the one you consider your worst enemy coming to your aid and showing you such mercy and compassion.
Then Jesus humbles the expert by asking – who is the neighbor in this story? He is forced to recognize it is the Samaritan because he is the one who showed mercy. Jesus tells him go and do likewise. I’ve often wondered – did he go and do likewise? Did he change his narrow, boundary-driven definition of who a neighbor is to this way of viewing a neighbor through an expansive love lens. Then no one is a stranger because each person is made in the image of God. No one is an outsider, no one is otherized and no one is dehumanized.
I asked earlier – who are you in this story as you travel this road from Jerusalem to Jericho? How do you react to the words of Jesus that the one who followed the Way of Love, who showed mercy, who acted with love and compassion, the Samaritan, is my neighbor! Shouldn’t he be the stranger? Shouldn’t he be the one we fear, the one we otherize, the one we dehumanize?
It’s hard in the world we live in where everyday we are confronted with unimaginable acts of cruelty – of dehumanizing and otherizing whole groups of people. How do we maintain our own sense of being a neighbor in the way Jesus defines it – as the one who acts with love – when sometimes our instinct is to run as far away as we can and to be afraid to show love and compassion.
How do we see that there isn’t a difference between who is a stranger and who is a neighbor? That who is in and who is out is a false dynamic if we claim to follow Jesus? Jesus doesn’t put boundary definitions on being a neighbor – instead he shows us the way to live a neighbor life – be Love out in this world, show compassion to who is a stranger to you even if that stranger is part of a labeled group you want no part of.
This is not easy work. I recently listened to a podcast of two ex-evangelical pastors who grew up in a world of narrow and rigid definitions of who can be your neighbor – definitions they had overcome. They spoke about how to bridge the divides that have grown into chasms, how to still be in relationship with those who we hold firmly in an “other” camp. They noted that you do have to break ties where harm is very real, but where that is not the case, they urged conversation – not shouting over one another, but real conversation as a starting point.[6]
And, maybe that is what happened on this road to Jericho – imagine the one beaten and robbed opening up a blackened eye to see the two run away, not even interested in asking him his name. How hard that must have been. And, then a Samaritan who you would least expect to help you is kneeling by you, asking how you are doing, finding out your name, and tending to your wounds. How wonderful must that feel.
Which will we be – the ones who run away from the “other?” Or the Samaritan who runs to the “other?” Or are we the expert who keeps wanting to test Jesus? Or maybe we are the robbed and beaten one who just wants someone to be our neighbor. Which one was a neighbor? Which one are we?
[1] See a fuller discussion of this story in Amy Jill-Levine and Ben Witherington III’s book (pages 285-294): The Gospel of Luke (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2019).
[2] Ibid, pg 290
[3] Ibid, pg 292-293
[4] A Sanctified Art Everything in Between Sermon Planning Guide, pg 7.
[5] Ibid
[6]https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/zack-lambert-resistance-from-the-pulpit/id1689054326?i=1000697794869, accessed 3.5.25