Jesus invites us to consider our prejudices, our deep dislike of certain people because they are “one of those people.”
Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. Now by chance, a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.’ 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.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”
In the parable we know as The Good Samaritan, Jesus tells the story of someone who would have been despised by his audience. In the first century, Samaritans and Jews detested each other for a variety of historical, cultural, and religious reasons. With this story, Jesus invites us to consider our prejudices, our deep dislike of certain people because they are “one of those people.” Jesus invites us to imagine a world in which those we look down upon are, in fact, people of sacrificial love.
My title approaches this parable from the perspective of first-century Jews. As you may know, the Jews and the Samaritans didn’t get along well in the time of Jesus. In fact, it would be true to say that they despised each other. There was a long, complicated history of conflict between the Jews and the Samaritans. The Samaritans, who lived in the region of Samaria between Galilee on the north and Judea on the south, believed that they were faithful descendants of the ancient Israelites. Jews, however, regarded the Samaritans as “half-breeds” and religious heretics. After all, they had their own temple and their own distinctive version of the Mosaic law. Tensions between these two historically related peoples were exacerbated by the fact that they sometimes were on opposing sides in military conflicts. The fact that a Jewish high priest, John Hyrcanus I, commanded the destruction of the Samaritan temple in the second century B.C. had exacerbated the bad relations between Jews and Samaritans.
This history helps us to understand something about Jesus’s parable that is essential. He purposefully chose the archetypal “bad guy” to serve as the “good guy” in the story. This must-have grated on the ears of the Jewish legal expert who was the primary audience for Jesus’s story, not to mention any others who were listening.
When I read the story of the Samaritan,” I don’t intuitively feel any negativity toward the Samaritan. I know the history, but I don’t have any emotional baggage when it comes to people from Samaria. Therefore, if I’m going to open my heart to this story, I need to relate it to my own situation. I need to ask myself the uncomfortable question: Who are my “Samaritans”?
Almost all human beings have people we consider to be “Samaritans.” Often, like the historical Samaritans in relationship to Jews, they are people with whom we have certain things in common. Consider my experience as a Presbyterian. I know fellow Presbyterians, for example, whose dislike of other Presbyterian denominations is much stronger than their dislike of, say, Lutherans or Methodists. Why? Because we share a common history because there was a time we chose to separate from each other because we’ve fallen into caring more about the things over which we differ than the many, many things upon which we agree.
Perhaps your “Samaritans” aren’t religious groups, but cultural or political groups. No matter which side of the political spectrum you fall on, chances are you don’t have much love for folks on the other side. And, if you’re like millions of Americans, you despise those with whom you differ politically in much the ways Jews and Samaritans hated each other. Or, your “Samaritans” maybe people of a different race or ethnicity. Or people from a different country. Or from a different generation. Or from a different economic class. Or whose lifestyle you disapprove of. Or who watch the news station you detest. Or . . . .
If you can identify your “Samaritans,” then you may try an experiment. Read Jesus’s story, replacing “But a Samaritan” in verse 33 with “But a ________.” Fill in the blank with whatever makes sense for you. Then, read about what your “Samaritan” did in Jesus’s story. How does this make you feel? What is stirring in you? What might God want to teach you through this thought experiment?
Comments