NEIGHBOURS FAR OFF
'And, behold, a certain lawyer stood up, and tempted Him, saying, Master,
what shall I do to inherit eternal life? 26. He said unto him, What is written
in the law? how readest thou? 27. And he, answering, said, Thou shalt love
the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy
strength, and with all thy mind; and thy neighbour as thyself. 28. And He
said unto him, Thou hast answered right: this do, and thou shalt live. 29.
But he, willing to justify himself, said unto Jesus, And who is my
neighbour? 30. And Jesus, answering, said, A certain man went down from
Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his
raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead. 31. And
by chance there came down a certain priest that way; and when he saw him,
he passed by on the other side. 32. And likewise a Levite, when he was at
the place, came and looked on him, and passed by on the other side. 33. But
a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and when he saw
him, he had compassion on him, 34. And went to him, and bound up his
wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought
him to an inn, and took care of him. 35. And on the morrow, when he departed, he took out two pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto
him, Take care of him: and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come
again, I will repay thee. 36. Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was
neighbour unto him that fell among the thieves! 37. And he said. He that
showed mercy on him. Then said Jesus unto him, Go, and do thou likewise.'
--LUKE x. 25-37.
The lawyer's first question was intended to 'tempt' Jesus, which here seems
to mean, rather, 'to test'; that is, to ascertain His orthodoxy or His ability.
Christ walks calmly through the snare, as if not seeing it. His answer is
unimpeachably orthodox, and withal just hints in the slightest way that the
question was needless, since one so learned in the law knew well enough
what were the conditions of inheriting life. The lawyer knows the letter too
well to be at a loss what to answer. But it is remarkable that he gives the
same combination of two passages which Jesus gives in His last duel with
the Pharisees (Matt. xxii; Mark xii.). Did Jesus adopt this lawyer's
summary? Or is Luke's narrative condensed, omitting stages by which Jesus
led the man to so wise an answer?
Our Lord's rejoinder has a marked tone of authority, which puts the lawyer
in his right place. His answer is commended, as by one whose estimate has
weight; and his practice is implicitly condemned, as by one who knows,
and has a right to judge. 'This do' is a sharp sword-thrust. It also unites the
two 'loves' as essentially one, by saying 'This'-not 'these'--'do.' The lawyer
feels the prick, and it is his defective practice, not his question, which he
seeks to 'justify.' He did not think that his love to God needed any
justification. He had fully done his duty there, but about the other half he
was less sure. So he tried to ride off, lawyer-like, on a question of the
meaning of words. 'Who is my neighbour?' is the question answered by the
lovely story of the kindly Samaritan.
I. The main purpose, then, is to show how far off men may be, and yet be
neighbours. The lawyer's question, 'Who is my neighbour?' is turned round
the other way in Christ's form of it at the close. It is better to ask 'Whose
neighbour am I?' than 'Who is my neighbour?' The lawyer meant by the
word 'a person whom I am bound to love.' He wanted to know how far an obligation extended which he had no mind to recognise an inch farther than
he was obliged. Probably he had in his thought the Rabbinical limitations
which made it as much duty to 'hate thine enemy' as to 'love thy neighbour.'
Probably, too, he accepted the national limitations, which refused to see
any neighbours outside the Jewish people.
'Neighbourhood,' in his judgment, implied 'nearness,' and he wished to
know how far off the boundaries of the region included in the command
lay. There are a great many of us like him, who think that the obligation is a
matter of geography, and that love, like force, is inversely as the square of
the distance. A good deal of the so-called virtue of 'patriotism' is of this
spurious sort. But Christ's way of putting the question sweeps all such
limitations aside. 'Who became neighbour to' the wounded man? 'He who
showed mercy on him,' said the lawyer, unwilling to name the Samaritan,
and by his very reluctance giving the point to his answer which Christ
wished to bring out. We are not to love because we are neighbours in any
geographical sense, but we become neighbours to the man farthest from us
when we love and help him. The relation has nothing to do with proximity.
If we prove ourselves neighbours to any man by exercising love to him,
then the relation intended by the word is as wide as humanity. We
recognise that A. is our neighbour when a throb of pity shoots through our
heart, and thereby we become neighbours to him.
The story is not, properly speaking, a parable, or imaginary narrative of
something in the physical world intended to be translated into something in
the spiritual region, but it is an illustration (by an imaginary narrative) of
the actual virtue in question. Every detail is beautifully adapted to bring out
the lesson that the obligation of neighbourly affection has nothing to do
with nearness either of race or religion, but is as wide as humanity. The
wounded man was probably a Jew, but it is significant that his nationality is
not mentioned. He is 'a certain man,' that is all. The Samaritan did not ask
where he was born before he helped him. So Christ teaches us that sorrow
and need and sympathy and help are of no nationality.
That lesson is still more strongly taught by making the helper a Samaritan.
Perhaps, if Jesus had been speaking in America, he would have made him a negro; or, if in France, a German; or, if in England, a 'foreigner.' It was a
daring stroke to bring the despised name of 'Samaritan' into the story, and
one sees what a hard morsel to swallow the lawyer found it, by his
unwillingness to name him after all.
The nations have not yet learned the deep, simple truth of this parable. It
absolutely forbids all limitations of mercy and help. It makes every man the
neighbour of every man. It carries in germ the great truth of the
brotherhood of the race. 'Humanity' is a purely Christian word, and a
conception that was never dreamed of before Christ had showed us the
unity of mankind. We slowly approximate to the realisation of the teaching
of this story, which is oftener admired than imitated, and perhaps oftenest
on the lips of people who obey it least.
II. Another aspect of the parable is its lesson as to the true manifestations of
neighbourliness. The minutely detailed account of the Samaritan's care for
the half-dead man is not only graphic, but carries large lessons.
Compassionate sentiments are very well. They must come first. The help
that is given as a matter of duty, without the outgoing of heart, will be
worth little, and soon cease to flow; but the emotion that does not drive the
wheels of action, and set to work to stanch the sorrows which cause it to
run so easily, is worth still less. It hardens the heart, as all feeling
unexpressed in action does. If the priest and Levite had gone up to the man,
and said, 'Ah, poor fellow, poor fellow! how sorry we are for you!
somebody ought to come and help you,' and so had trudged on their way,
they would have been worse than they are painted as being.
The various acts are enumerated as showing the genius of true love. We
notice the swift, cool-headed deftness of the man, his having at hand the
appliances needed, the business-like way in which he goes about his
kindness, his readiness to expend his wine and oil, his willingness to do the
surgeon's work, his cheerful giving up of his 'own beast,' while he plodded
along on foot, steadying the wounded man on his ass; his care for him at
the inn; his generosity, and withal his prudence, in not leaving a great sum
in the host's hands, but just enough to tide over a day or two, and his wise
hint that he would audit the accounts when he came back. This man's quick compassion was blended with plenty of shrewdness, and was as practical as
the hardest, least compassionate man could have been. There is need for
organisation, 'faculty,' and the like, in the work of loving our neighbour. A
thousand pities that sometimes Christian charity and Christian
common-sense dissolve partnership. The Samaritan was a man of business,
and he did his compassion in a business-like fashion, as we should try to
do.
III. Another lesson inwrought into the parable is the divorce between
religion and neighbourliness, as shown in the conduct of the priest and
Levite. Jericho was one of the priestly cities, so that there would be
frequent travellers on ecclesiastical errands. The priest was 'going down'
(that is from Jerusalem), so he could not plead a 'pressing public
engagement' at the Temple. The verbal repetition of the description of the
conduct of both him and the Levite serves to suggest its commonness. They
two did exactly the same thing, and so would twenty or two hundred
ordinary passers by. They saw the man lying in a pool of blood, and they
made a wide circuit, and, even in the face of such a sight, went on their
way. Probably they said to themselves, 'Robbers again; the sooner we get
past this dangerous bit, the better.' We see that they were heartless, but they
did not see it. We do the same thing ourselves, and do not see that we do;
for who of us has not known of many miseries which we could have done
something to stanch, and have left untouched because our hearts were
unaffected? The world would be a changed place if every Christian
attended to the sorrows that are plain before him.
Let professing Christians especially lay to heart the solemn lesson that there
does lie in their very religion the possibility of their being culpably
unconcerned about some of the world's wounds, and that, if their love to
God does not find a field for its manifestation in active love to man,
worship in the Temple will be mockery. Philanthropy is, in our days, often
substituted for religion. The service of man has been put forward as the
only real service of God. But philanthropic unbelievers and unphilanthropic
believers are equally monstrosities. What God hath joined let not man put
asunder. That simple 'and,' which couples the two great commandments,
expresses their indissoluble connection. Well for us if in our practice they are blended in one!
It is not spiritualising this narrative when we say that Jesus is Himself the
great pattern of the swift compassion and effectual helpfulness which it sets
forth. Many unwise attempts have been made to tack on spiritual meanings
to the story. These are as irreverent as destructive of its beauty and
significance. But to say that Christ is the perfect example of that love to
every man which the narrative portrays, has nothing in common with these
fancies. It is only when we have found in Him the pity and the healing
which we need, that we shall go forth into the world with love as wide as
His.
Commentary by Alexander MacLaren, taken from "Expositions of Holy Scripture - St Luke"
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