“The tables are turned”
By Rev. Michael Stonhouse
Meditation – Thursday, October 20, 2022
Luke 10:25-37 (Forward, p. 83) CEV p. 1073
In some ways, this story plays into what is often our stereotype about lawyers or legal experts or teachers of the Law. We immediately find one of ‘this lot’ coming to Jesus to test Him, to put Him on the spot. While the Contemporary English Version puts it rather mildly, he ‘asked Jesus a question to see what he would say’, the Good News Bible is a bit more direct in stating the man’s motive and intent: “A teacher of the Law came up and tried to trap Jesus.” However, he asked Jesus what seems to be a pretty normal, straight-forward question, “Teacher, what must I do to receive eternal life?” (It was the kind of question that was often bandied about, often raised, during academic legal circles back then.)
Jesus, however, was far too sharp to be drawn into exposing Himself to criticism and turned the tables on the man. In effect, He says, “Hey, you’re the expert, how do you read the Law? What is your interpretation of what it says about inheriting eternal life?”
The ‘lawyer’ appears to have an answer readily at hand, and well he might have, for discussions like this were his stock in trade. He answered with what we know as the Shema, the Summary of the Law.
Jesus commends him for answering well, and tells him, “Do this, and you will have eternal life”. The tables are turned again, and the ball is back in the lawyer’s court. Now it is a matter of ‘put up or shut up’. He knows, by his own words and admission, what he needs to do.
But somehow, for this lawyer it is not enough. Caught and now on the defensive, he wants to show off, to show that he ‘knew what he was talking about’. But I think there was more to it than that. The Authorized Version says, ‘wanting to justify himself’, which is more to the point, I think. I think that he wanted to be able to prove to himself—or else, have Jesus prove, that he was already doing the right thing.
So, picking up on the last part of the Summary of the Law, he asks Jesus to define just what He means by the word ‘neighbour’. It is an exercise in ‘damage control’. He is hoping that Jesus will define the word in somewhat narrow terms, to somehow limit just how his neighbour would be. He’s hoping that it will be a fellow Jew, hopefully someone nearby, someone that he can love without too much fuss or bother or trouble. Like many lawyers even today, He wants to limit his obligations, his responsibilities.
Here Jesus really turns the tables on him. He tells the familiar parable of the Good Samaritan, and at its conclusion asks, “And who proved to be the neighbour to the man who was wounded and left for dead?” (That is, who, in this story, is the neighbour that you are ‘supposed’ to love?)
That parable, we are told, was a stock in trade of many speakers back then, who would adapt their cast of characters to their own special intent or agenda. Thus the ‘hero’ of the story would be one of ‘their own’, perhaps a Pharisee or a teacher of the Law, whatever. It would certainly not be a hated, despised Samaritan. That would be the very last person that they would ever consider to be the ‘hero’ and that would be the last person they would ever consider loving as they loved themselves. That would be the insult of all insults. Jesus has really turned the tables here on this poor unsuspecting lawyer.
But Jesus is not finished. Rather than define narrowly who is one’s neighbour or somehow limit our responsibility, He expands it. He tells the lawyer to ‘go and do likewise’. In other words, to go and be a neighbour to someone else, and to be neighbour to those that you would not normally include in your cluster of care, your own comfort zone. He has really turned the tables on this man, and so He does with all of us. It is not really the answer this man wanted or expected, and neither does it for us. It expands our horizons, our expectations, of who we are to care for far beyond what we would normally accept and practice. Most surely, it is not something that we are exactly comfortable with. But, isn’t that exactly what our Lord is like: always stretching us to the point where we have to go beyond ourselves and trust in Him for help. Amen.
Forward notes: “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’” (verse 35).
“The parable of the Good Samaritan is well-known and seems a favourite of faith formation leaders, parents, and clergy in many places. I enjoyed a sermon by [American] Presiding Bishop Michael Curry a couple of years ago at a verger conference where he inserted the names of prominent politicians as examples of those who might pass by if the wounded man was from a different political party. In this day of such uncivil discourse, it was quite eye-opening.
“Yet I also find excellent teaching in the part of the verse that doesn’t always receive much attention: the Samaritan took the wounded man to an innkeeper, paid the innkeeper to take care of the man, and then promised to make up any shortfall. Did the Samaritan’s actions show mercy? They certainly did, but he went further, with commitment, action, and a promise of follow-up. He took it on himself to be the salve that the wounded man needed—not just a good guy who bandaged him up, but a friend. He loved him as he loved himself.”
Moving Forward: “When has someone gone the extra mile to help you?”