Parables

The Setting

A lawyer's challenge

After the Transfiguration, Jesus went on a wide tour of the country before He entered Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover marking the onset of His last year of ministry. However, He did not embark on this tour until a delegation of seventy followers had visited towns and villages along the way and prepared them for His coming. They not only preached the gospel of the Kingdom; they also performed healings and cast out devils. When they returned to Jesus, they reported that God had filled them with the power they needed to accomplish their mission.

17 And the seventy returned again with joy, saying, Lord, even the devils are subject unto us through thy name.

18 And he said unto them, I beheld Satan as lightning fall from heaven.

Luke 10:17-18

After the seventy came back to Jesus, He set out for Jerusalem. Along the way, He delivered the Parable of the Good Samaritan, one of His most famous parables. It is memorable both as an ingenious illustration of the love God desires between man and man and as a poignant testimony to the loving heart of Christ. The only Gospel that has preserved it is Luke.

The occasion for it was a question put to Jesus by a lawyer with a friendly demeanor hiding a hostile purpose.

And, behold, a certain lawyer stood up, and tempted him, saying, Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?

Luke 10:25

Luke says that the man's intent was to tempt Jesus. In other words, employing a tactic beloved by lawyers throughout the ages, He presented Jesus with a leading question, hoping to draw out an answer that would prove Him to be a false teacher. Yet this man was not exactly a lawyer in the modern sense. The word rendered "lawyer" refers to a recognized expert in the law of Moses.¹ A man with his background was also called a scribe, and his role in society was not to present cases in court, but to master the law, teach it to the next generation of scribes, and serve as judge in legal disputes and court trials.

Countering a question with another equally probing

Jesus saw immediately that the question proceeded not from ignorance.  The lawyer already knew the right answer. It was part of every scribe’s training. Although the scribes and Pharisees were wrongheaded in much of their interpretation of the law, they grasped many of the basics. They knew, for example, the requirements for eternal life.

Therefore, Jesus did not submit to such questioning. The lawyer, accustomed to treating others as students beneath him in learning, needed to understand that he was standing before someone who was far better qualified to teach. Instead of answering the question as if He were a student under examination, Jesus assumed a teacher’s role and questioned His questioner. He asked the lawyer,

He said unto him, What is written in the law? how readest thou?

Luke 10:26

The correct answer

The lawyer, still hoping to trap Jesus in regrettable words, was unwilling to break off the exchange. So, he accepted a student’s role and answered Jesus’ question by parroting what he had learned in school.

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.

Luke 10:27

The answer he gave, since it was squarely founded on God’s Word, was altogether correct. The requirement to love God unreservedly, with a complete devotion in every part of our being, is stated in the books of Moses.

And thou shalt love the LORD thy God with all thine heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might.

Deuteronomy 6:5

Likewise in the books of Moses we find the Scriptural basis of the requirement to love our neighbor as ourselves.

Thou shalt not avenge, nor bear any grudge against the children of thy people, but thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself: I am the LORD.

Leviticus 19:18

Thus, in just a few words the lawyer accurately summarized man’s whole duty to God.

The first text, Deuteronomy 6:5, was one of a small selection of texts carried in a phylactery, a small cubical box with leather straps so that it could be attached to a man's body. In Jesus' day, the custom for all Jewish males was to wear such an ornament both on the arm and on the forehead during morning prayers.³ So, the text in Deuteronomy was well known to the lawyer, although he embellished it slightly by adding "mind" to "heart," "soul," and "strength." Since the mind is like the heart and the soul in its capacity for intense love, Jesus accepted the revision as appropriate, using it Himself on a later occasion (Matt. 22:37; Mark 12:28-34). It is likely that Jesus presented the principle in this broader form throughout His ministry, and the lawyer was merely echoing what He had already heard from Jesus' lips.⁴

The lawyer’s answer was not only a correct summary of man’s duty; it was also the answer to his question, for it told how a man could get to heaven by his own works. He had asked, "What shall I do to inherit eternal life?" with emphasis on "do." In fact, there is a road to heaven by means of human striving—a road where we could do everything ourselves. Along that road we would merely have to direct a perfect love both upward to God and outward to man. This is our whole duty. If we could fully perform it, God would by no means deny us access to life forever. God is just. He would award heaven to us on the strength of our own unblemished character. God would give us what we deserved.

Jesus therefore approved the lawyer's answer.

And he said unto him, Thou hast answered right: this do, and thou shalt live.

Luke 10:28

Conviction coming to the lawyer's heart

When Jesus said, "This do," a sense that compliance would be impossible must have arisen within the lawyer’s heart through the conviction of the Holy Spirit, for indeed no man can do "this." Far from attaining perfect love, no man can even come close to it. No day—even no hour— passes but that we fail to give God first place in our hearts, and no day—even no hour—passes but that we fail to view our neighbor’s needs with as much concern as our own.

Yet the scribes and Pharisees were far from recognizing that they were sinners. They viewed themselves as righteous enough to merit heaven. Jesus’ strategy in dealing with them was therefore to jar their moral complacency, to rattle their spiritual pride. For until they saw themselves as abysmally below God’s standard, they had no hope of eternal life. For common sinners like you and me, also like the lawyer challenging Jesus and every other human being except Jesus Himself, the only road to heaven is the gospel. The gospel teaches us that to win eternal life, we must all start by confessing that we are sinners and by seeking God’s forgiveness. Then we must accept the forgiveness He offers in the name of Jesus our Savior, who died on the cross to pay for our sins.

When Jesus said, "This do, and thou shalt live," we can imagine that it must have sounded not like a voice of hope, but like a voice of doom. The ominous reverberations throughout the man’s soul must have alerted him that he was a moral pretender who, lacking any real claim to God’s favor, stood in peril of God’s wrath, for when the man responded to Jesus, he did not talk like someone who had just become more confident of heaven. The tone he conveyed did not sound like hope reassured. Rather, it sounded like hope undermined. His attitude became defensive, as if he suddenly realized that his destiny was in doubt.

But he, willing to justify himself, said unto Jesus, And who is my neighbour?

Luke 10:29

Luke explains that the question arose from a need to justify self. In other words, the man sensed, perhaps for the first time, that the way he treated his fellow man did not live up to God’s expectations. Some memory or memories of when he had mistreated others may have registered on his conscience, and his first reaction was to furiously backpedal from confession of sin. Instead of accepting blame, he chose rather to play a game of semantics by redefining his victim as someone other than a neighbor.

By the lawyer's reckoning, exactly who was his "neighbor"? No doubt he understood this term as referring to someone like himself; that is, to someone from the mold of good Jews who staunchly upheld the law. From the lawyer’s perspective, it made sense to love someone who was so deserving. So it is obvious what answer the lawyer was seeking. He wanted Jesus to restrict the meaning of neighbor to a smaller class of people than all of humanity—defining it not as all men, but as a few men who met a certain standard of Jewish respectability. It was a natural mistake for him to make, because he believed that his relationship to God depended on his own merit. He thought that his own good works would enable him to win God’s favor and gain entrance to the Kingdom. Therefore, he assumed that he should use the same measure when granting personal favor to fellow human beings. He had no duty to love them unless they had proved themselves worthy.

He was wrong, of course. God loves us not because we are by nature worthy of His love. He chooses to love us despite our unworthiness, and, following His example, we should love all men whether we see them as worthy or not. Jesus taught that we should love even our enemies.

44 But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you;

45 That ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.

Matthew 5:44-45

Here, Jesus was providing the correct definition of neighbor in the law’s requirement that we should love our neighbor as ourselves. Our neighbor includes all human beings farthest removed from our natural affection as well as all others who stand closer.

Jesus' strategy

Yet in remolding the lawyer's perspective, Jesus did not challenge his assumption that he should love only the worthy. To show the man that he was a sinner, Jesus chose instead to stay within the man’s existing worldview. That teaching method takes the road with fewest obstacles to the truth. Specifically, He targeted the man’s notion of worthiness, which was warped in some degree by the prejudices of his nation and class. It would never have occurred to the lawyer that a gentile might be worthy of love. Much less would he have viewed a Samaritan as worthy.

It was this particular small-mindedness that Jesus attacked. He crafted a parable presenting a Samaritan in a good light—indeed, in a light so good that he emerged as worthier of respect and love than even the most revered among Jewish religious leaders.

The Parable

A tragic victim of man's cruelty

With His usual economy of words, Jesus sketched a dramatic story about danger and rescue.

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.

Luke 10:30

A man, presumably a Jewish man, traveled the winding road from Jerusalem to Jericho, a journey of twenty-one miles,⁵ which was for many travelers a day’s work. In places the road went sharply downhill as it followed an overall drop between the two cities of about 3300 feet.⁶ From remote antiquity almost until modern times, this road was a favorite haunt of robbers, for it offered easy prey. The traveler occasionally had to go through narrow passes, forcing him to walk alone among rocky walls and hollows. There on both sides were good hide-outs where thieves could wait for the unwary and defenseless.

In Jesus’ parable, the traveler is a Jew coming down from the capital city. The road he was taking was heavily traveled despite the peril, because it was the first leg of all roads connecting Jerusalem with points east or north. Jews from Galilee, for example, normally reached home by first going east to Jericho and then going north through the Jordan Valley to their destination. The route through Samaria was shorter, but they wanted to avoid the Samaritans.

Because of all the traffic between Jerusalem and Jericho, the man remembered in the parable probably thought he was safe. But he failed to anticipate those lonely passages where, in a moment’s time, thieves could descend and do their dirty work before another traveler came around the corner. It was his misfortune to enter a secluded stretch of road just when armed brigands were lying in wait. They pounced upon him and assaulted him mercilessly, caring nothing for his life, simply wanting to render him powerless as quickly as possible so they could steal his belongings. Jesus did not say what wounds they inflicted upon him. The term "wounded" is literally "inflicted wounds."⁷ In Acts 16:33, the wounds by this name are stripes from beating,⁸ but in Revelation 13:14, the word in the singular refers to a sword’s piercing blow.⁹ Attacking the traveler with a knife or sword was probably how these criminals operated, because it was the quickest way to dispose of him. Once he had fallen, they stripped off his clothes, which had far more value than clothes in our culture. The thieves might have greedily taken them either for their own use or for the purpose of selling them. Jesus' account does not accuse them of robbing the man's money. Probably the man had spent all or nearly all of it in Jerusalem, whether for lodgings or for sacrifices to offer at the Temple. He was going home poor, except for his clothes, and the thieves valued a few pieces of apparel more than his life. After assaulting him, they fled, leaving him "half dead," correct translation of a single Greek word giving us a vivid picture of a man hovering between life and death.¹⁰

The first passerby

It was not long after the robbers escaped that another traveler came down the road, also on his way from Jerusalem to Jericho.

And by chance there came down a certain priest that way: and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side.

Luke 10:31

The priest appeared "by chance." In other words, he had no connection to either the thieves or the victim. His own affairs brought him by coincidence into the scene of another man’s tragedy. Like the victim, the new traveler happening along was also alone, but he had a stronger reason to feel safe. He was no less than a priest, a high-ranking member of the Jewish religious establishment. Thieves were godless and cruel men, yet if they had Jewish blood, they probably had some inhibition against attacking a man of God. The priest was no doubt returning home after fulfilling his term of service at the Temple.

Since there were far more priests than necessary to maintain Temple sacrifices and ceremonies, none served all year long. Instead, they took turns. All eligible descendants of Aaron, the first priest, were divided into twenty-four courses, each with more than enough members to carry on the normal work. The course in charge changed weekly and was determined by lot. This routine was broken only at the three festivals which all Israelite men were required to attend: the Feast of Unleavened Bread, the Feast of Pentecost (also called the Feast of Weeks), and the Feast of Tabernacles (Deut. 16:16). For celebration of these major holidays, all twenty-four courses were required to be in attendance. Thus, the whole duty of a priest during a year did not exceed approximately five weeks at the Temple.¹¹ Throughout the remainder of the year, he had to pursue some ordinary occupation. Some may have farmed land inherited from their forefathers, but many pursued nonagricultural trades, such as carpentry, masonry, operating a market, or serving as a scribe.¹²

According to ancient sources, many thousands of priests and Levites lived in Jericho,¹³ which for them was virtually a suburb of the capital city. From there they commuted back and forth as duty required. Perhaps the attraction of Jericho was its good water supply and green landscape. Because of shifts in patterns of water drainage due to loss of ancient aqueducts, the same region is now more barren.¹⁴

As the priest came along, he spied the robbers’ victim lying helpless beside the road. But he was in a hurry. It is no wonder. He was going home to his family after leading worship at the Temple. Naturally, he did not want any delay. But that is no excuse for ignoring a desperate need. How did the priest react to the gruesome sight before him? He did not fail to see it, because we are told that he redirected his path to the opposite side of the road. But otherwise he gave the man no attention. Jesus’ account suggests that he did not even pause in his journey, but went right on walking with no change of pace. Why was he so hard-hearted? It was a fellow Jew in grave trouble. Perhaps one reason is that the man looked as though he might be dead. The law forbade a priest to touch a dead body, lest he become unclean (Lev. 21:1), and if he became unclean, he had go through a ritual of cleansing. But this ritual was not especially bothersome. All he had to do was wash himself with water and wait until evening before he could consider himself clean again (Lev. 22:6-7). Even so, after only a moment of reflection, the priest decided that maintaining his ritual purity was more important than going to a fellow man fallen by the road and giving whatever help he could.

It is obvious that the religion of the Jews had not bestowed on him any benefit of moral discernment. Like most of the other Jewish religious leaders, he was self-righteous to the core, so absorbed in all the externals of formal religion that he altogether lacked any religion of the heart. For example, many Pharisees thought that Sabbath law permitted rescuing a beast but disallowed healing a man.

9 And when he was departed thence, he [Jesus] went into their synagogue:

10 And, behold, there was a man which had his hand withered. And they asked him, saying, Is it lawful to heal on the sabbath days? that they might accuse him.

11 And he said unto them, What man shall there be among you, that shall have one sheep, and if it fall into a pit on the sabbath day, will he not lay hold on it, and lift it out?

12 How much then is a man better than a sheep? Wherefore it is lawful to do well on the sabbath days.

Matthew 12:9–12

If he shared the outlook of other leaders, the priest walking down the road did not comprehend that a man was more valuable than a beast. The higher standing that upper-class Jews granted beasts over men followed from their covetousness (Luke 16:14). A beast was property. It was worth money, but no one made himself richer by saving a man’s life. If the priest had seen a wounded sheep beside the road, he might have tended to it and taken it home. But a man? He left the man to die.

What had the priest been thinking while he was serving in the Temple? Had he summoned his heart to exalt God and to learn from God’s Word? No, his heart was empty, though he was busy doing a priest’s work. Let us be sure that when we come to church, it is for us a truly spiritual exercise. Worship does not reside in our spoken words, and holiness does not reside in our outward appearance. The God we worship and the God who defines holiness judges us solely by what He sees in our hearts.

The second passerby

After the priest left the scene, yet another traveler came along the road.

And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him, and passed by on the other side.

Luke 10:32

We do not know which direction he was going, but no doubt the Temple was either his destination or point of departure. Like the man before him, he was a religious leader, a Levite: that is, an assistant to the priests. But though he ranked lower in the religious hierarchy than the man who had just passed by, he had more conscience, for he did not ignore the man in distress. He came alongside the robbers’ victim and looked at him closely. What thoughts went through his mind, we cannot imagine. Perhaps he was reckoning the cost to himself if he tried to help the man. It would take time and effort, especially if he had to carry the man to another place. Perhaps also he was judging whether his help would do any good. But the dilemma caused little delay in his journey. After briefly pondering what to do, he walked away, leaving the man to his misery. Maybe he thought that helping him would be too much trouble. In that case, like the priest, he did not think that a man’s life had enough value to justify a little personal sacrifice. Or maybe he thought that his efforts would probably be wasted, for the man was certain to die. He therefore discarded a basic rule that God has implanted in every conscience—the rule that we should always try to save a life in peril unless the attempt significantly imperils other lives besides our own. In this case, helping the wounded man did not endanger the Levite. His only reason for withholding assistance was inconvenience to himself.

The third passerby

The robbers’ victim had lost two possible helpers. But now a third man came along.

But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and when he saw him, he had compassion on him, . . . .

Luke 10:33

Again, we do not know which way he was headed. But when he saw the half-dead man beside the road, his heart immediately flooded with compassion.

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.

Luke 10:34

There was no inner tussle between conscience and self-interest. His mind rose far enough above any fears or personal inconveniences to realize that he had no moral option except to render help, and to render help was the natural and deep desire of his good heart. So, he approached the helpless man and began to perform the best first aid that he could.

To a modern reader, the course of treatment that he followed may seem primitive, with no obvious basis in sound medicine. But in fact, what he did was exactly right. He followed a procedure that was customary in ancient times (Mark 6:13; James 5:14) because it had long ago proved to be effective.¹⁵ The ancients did not fully understand why, but they had learned that it saved lives. The wording does not clarify exactly when the Samaritan did the washing in relation to the binding. Probably he started by pouring oil and wine over the torn flesh. Both were cleansing agents, and the wine, having alcoholic content if it was fermented, was also an antiseptic. Since the wine served a more critical function, it was probably applied last to prolong its effects. The use of both oil and water-based wine assured the removal of most dirt and defilement, because many substances not soluble in one are soluble in the other. Then after washing the wounds, the Samaritan bound them up, putting them under pressure with tied cloth to stop the bleeding. Finally, he probably washed the bound wounds with another quantity of oil and wine.

Notice that the Samaritan gave help at great risk to himself. So far as he knew, the robbers were still lurking nearby, and he was shrewd enough to realize that he was an inviting target. Later in the parable, we learn that he was carrying enough money to pay for extended care of the wounded man. Even though thieves hiding in the rocks could not see his money, they could probably deduce from other clues that he was a man of means. For example, he was leading a beast of burden, doubtless a donkey, a possession too costly for any poor man. So as the Samaritan stooped down to help the man near death, he was making a deliberate decision to disregard the danger, attaching less importance to his own safety than to saving a life.

After attending to the man’s serious injuries, the good Samaritan lifted him onto his donkey and ushered him to the nearest inn. There he did not simply deposit the robbers’ victim and proceed on his journey, trusting others to take care of him. Rather, he stayed and did the work himself.

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.

Luke 10:35

He did not leave the man behind until "the morrow." In other words, he kept by the man's side until the next day, which was probably when he felt sure that his personal attention was no longer required to assure the man's survival. As a last gesture of kindness before departing, he went to the innkeeper and gave him money to cover the expense of any additional care that might be necessary before the man was well enough to resume his journey. The amount was two dinars, the equivalent of a laborer's wages for two days.¹⁶

The last words of the Samaritan to the innkeeper are extremely interesting. He said that if the man’s care cost more than the amount he was leaving for that purpose, he would repay it on his next visit. So, the story reveals a second hero—the innkeeper. We should not view the Samaritan as foolhardy in trusting the innkeeper both to use the money for care of the wounded man and to furnish an honest accounting. Rather, we should suppose that his trust had a good foundation. The good Samaritan’s wording strongly implies that the innkeeper was a man he knew well, because he was a regular customer. He knew from experience that the innkeeper could be depended on.

Notice also, however, that the innkeeper did not quarrel with the Samaritan’s promise to come back later and settle any debt. So, not only did the Samaritan trust the innkeeper; the innkeeper trusted him.

Why did Jesus include this last bit of conversation between the two caregivers? Since the inn was located on the road connecting Jerusalem and Jericho, Jesus’ hearers would have assumed that the innkeeper was Jewish. So, then, Jesus’ purpose in recalling both the Samaritan’s promise to the innkeeper and the innkeeper’s consent was no doubt to uphold these men as examples of how Jews and Samaritans should relate to each other: not with mutual scorn, but with mutual trust and respect.

It is doubtful, though, that the parable would have had much impact on the bigotry of His Jewish hearers if it was merely an illustrative piece of fiction. More likely, He was relating an incident that really happened. The innkeeper mentioned in the story may have been so impressed by the Samaritan’s good deed that he bragged about it to many customers, and this news came to Jerusalem and circulated from mouth-to-mouth in the city because it was, from a Jewish perspective, a remarkable tale. Imagine a Samaritan going to such lengths to help a Jew! All the details in the story might have been supplied by the victim himself. He knew what calamity he had suffered along the road. Though severely wounded, he may have lain on the road conscious enough to be aware of the pious Jews who declined to help him. He knew that it was the Samaritan who stopped and rendered assistance. The so-called parable would have been far more effective in pricking the conscience of the lawyer and of others standing by if it was a true story already known to them.

This story includes many touches of reality such as we find everywhere else in the Gospels. Critics suppose that the Parable of the Good Samaritan was invented by a preacher in the early church who claimed falsely that it came from Jesus. But it does not bear the marks of a story invented to make a sermon more convicting or entertaining. Also, no Jewish preacher coming after Christ would likely have shared His burden to create more compassion for the Samaritans. Or if he did, he would not have slightly diminished the heroic stature of the Samaritan by having him leave the inn before the man was fully recovered.

Moral Application

After speaking the parable, Jesus asked the question,

Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbour unto him that fell among the thieves?

Luke 10:36

The story left the lawyer no good answer except the one he gave.

And he said, He that shewed mercy on him. . . .

Luke 10:37a

Indeed, by his neighborly conduct the good Samaritan qualified himself to be considered the victim's real neighbor. Jesus expected the lawyer to draw the obvious conclusion—that the good Samaritan was no less the lawyer’s neighbor than he was the neighbor of the Jew who fell on the road, for that hapless victim of crime might have been the lawyer himself.

To understand the significance in Jesus’ line of questioning, remember the original purpose of the parable. It was to break down the lawyer’s pretense that he was obeying the requirement to love his neighbor. He accepted that he should love someone who was worthy. Yet he never thought of loving a Samaritan. He thought Samaritans were the scum of the earth. No doubt he could remember many times when he had encountered them and shown his contempt. Yet the story revealed just how unjust he was in this mindless prejudice against a whole nation. Were not the Samaritans his neighbors? They lived nearby, and they included some individuals like the good Samaritan who were far worthier of his love than his own role models in the Jewish religious establishment, such as the priest and Levite who bypassed the injured man on the road. Therefore, it followed as certainly as day follows night that he was failing to love his neighbor as himself. With this parable Jesus skewered the man’s pride and showed him his true condition before God. He thought that he was striding straight ahead on the road to eternal life, but he was really groping in confusion along the road to eternal damnation, because he was failing to keep one of the basic requirements of the law.

We might think that after extracting the lawyer’s admission that the Samaritan was his neighbor, Jesus needed to say no more. Had He not accomplished His purpose? But Jesus was not finished.

. . . Then said Jesus unto him, Go, and do thou likewise.

Luke 10:37b

Was He simply underlining the moral of the story? No, in that case, He would have said, "Go, and start treating Samaritans as your neighbors." Instead, Jesus put a slight twist on the moral to make it even more of a goad to true righteousness. The story presented the warm-hearted Samaritan, not the cold-hearted priest or Levite, as a model for the lawyer’s own conduct. Jesus was therefore challenging this proud expert in Jewish law, who was another esteemed member of the Jewish religious establishment, to accept that on a true scale of virtue, he stood lower than the good Samaritan. He was not the Samaritan’s superior, but his inferior. If he wanted to gain God’s approval, he needed to start living up to the good Samaritan’s lofty example.

What Jesus was demanding from the lawyer was a radical step of humility. The requirement was not that the lawyer view the good Samaritan as worthy of his love. That would not solve the lawyer’s spiritual problem. Rather, in recognition that the good Samaritan was a better man than himself, he needed to see himself as unworthy of the good Samaritan’s love. And if he did not deserve the love of a mere man, how much less did he deserve the love of a holy God! To get right with God, he needed, as we all do, to confess himself a sinner with no right to God’s favor.