Who Is My Neighbor?: Being a Good Samaritan in a Connected World

by Steve Moore

  John tells us many of the Samaritans from Sychar believed in Jesus because of the woman's testimony (see John 4:39). They urged Jesus to stay with them, and He remained in their town for two days. Two days. Don't read over that too quickly. We have no information about what Jesus may have said to His disciples during this extended visit. I can imagine the awkwardness the disciples must have felt at staying in a Samaritan home, eating at a Samaritan table, and watching Jesus treat people Jews had despised for centuries with dignity and respect. He validated the Samaritan villagers' spiritual inquisitiveness with the same graceful responses He had shown the woman at the well. They now believed in Him as the Savior of the world, not merely because of the woman's testimony, but because of the words of Jesus Himself (see verse 42).

  Don't let the power of that phrase escape you: Savior of the world. Not merely Savior of the Jews, but the world, including the mixed-race Samaritans with all their baggage. Jesus was intentionally expanding the worldview of His disciples—open your eyes! But cultural prejudices, impressions on the heart and mind, are like valleys carved over centuries by rivers and not easily traversed. Bias-induced blindness is not quickly cured, as would be evidenced by a later visit to Samaria.

  SAMARITAN OPPOSITION

  In Luke 9, just one chapter before the story of the Good Samaritan, the people in a Samaritan village did not welcome Jesus because He was headed for Jerusalem (see verse 53). Their deeply rooted doctrinal disputes led Samaritans to heckle Jews who were en route to Jerusalem to worship in the temple; it was one of the few practices that on occasion led to violence. Two of Jesus' disciples, James and John, aptly named the “Sons of Thunder,” wanted to call down fire from heaven to destroy the inhospitable Samaritans (verse 54). Surely they would have remembered the earlier encounter Jesus had in another Samaritan village after meeting the woman at the well. Perhaps James and John felt justified in their “righteous indignation,” believing this community of Samaritans was showing their true colors.

  In reading Luke's account of James and John asking Jesus if He would like them “to call down fire from heaven to destroy” a Samaritan village, I am left with a question of my own: Should we admire the fact that James and John had faith strong enough to believe they could reprise the exploits of Elijah to call down fire from heaven? Or should we despise their lack of mercy? Perhaps both. But Jesus would have none of it. He rebuked them and went to another village, also in Samaria. I can't help but wonder if, after finding Samaritan hosts willing to care for their needs, Jesus provided a “refresher” lesson for His disciples, reminding them of their foray into Sychar and the fruit of their ministry there.

  A SURPRISE TWIST

  If the disciples, having been challenged by Jesus to see what God sees in a Samaritan village, struggled to show mercy instead of wrath, we can only imagine how difficult it was for a Jewish audience to accept the ethnicity of the hero in the parable of the Good Samaritan. Jesus could have taken a conventional, less controversial approach by making the good guy a Jew and concluding the story by emphasizing how God wants us to show neighborly initiative even when we despise those in need. But it would not have had anything close to the emotional impact of the plotline He chose. By making the hero a Samaritan who showed mercy to a Jew, Jesus embedded the truth about serving others, including enemies, in the narrative itself. And in doing so He welded together a lesson for the heart and the head, the will and the emotions.

  The antagonistic demeanor of the religious expert who approached Jesus in Luke 10 set the stage for a verbal chess match. He began with a question designed to test Jesus and ended with a question designed to justify himself. The surprise twist Jesus inserted in the story, making the hero a Samaritan, was “check.” Turning the question that prompted the story—“Who is my neighbor?”—on its head by asking, “Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man?” was “checkmate.” But Jesus wasn't teaching a new message. He had already raised the bar above the letter of the Law, challenging true children of God to love their enemies. The Good Samaritan was actually a remedial lesson wrapped in a narrative package.

  JESUS RAISES THE BAR, AGAIN

  If someone in the crowd had asked Jesus to expand on the truth behind the parable of the Good Samaritan, He may well have repeated the essence of His radical teaching recorded in Luke 6 about loving your enemies. As if to make sure there would be no question what it looks like to love an enemy, Jesus elaborated, saying, “Do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you” (Luke 6:27-28). This is the essence of taking the initiative to be a neighbor. The “go and do likewise” exhortation in the sequel of the Good Samaritan redefined the neighborhood to include people who are not like you (Samaritans), don't like you, can't repay you, and wouldn't thank you to do so.

  Then Jesus raised the bar even higher.

  If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even “sinners” love those who love them. And if you do good to those who are good to you, what credit is that to you? Even “sinners” do that. And if you lend to those from whom you expect repayment, what credit is that to you? Even “sinners” lend to “sinners,” expecting to be repaid in full. But love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back. (Luke 6:32-35)

  YOU WILL NEED GRACE

  A common first response to reading these words of Jesus is to search for evidence that justifies our belief that He could not have actually meant what He said. Surely this must be some clever combination of metaphor and hyperbole? Can anyone actually do this? The Samaritan did. And remember the punch line of the sequel, “Go and do likewise.” So clearly Jesus expects us to put these radical behaviors into practice. But how?

  In this passage Jesus uses a communication technique I describe as rhetorical repetition. Effective communicators often use a rhetorical question to engage listeners, drawing them into the teaching by identifying a point of truth that should be so obvious it can be answered in the minds of the audience. In this teaching Jesus repeats the same rhetorical question three times, “What credit is that to you?” When we see rhetorical questions such as this in the Bible, the simplest way to capture the meaning is to turn the question into a statement that reflects the obvious answer that is being highlighted. In this case, we capture the meaning as follows:

  “If you love those who love you, you won't get any credit for that. Even ‘sinners’ love those who love them. And if you do good to those who are good to you, you won't get any credit for that. Even ‘sinners’ do that. And if you lend to those from whom you expect repayment, you won't get any credit for that. Even ‘sinners’ lend to ‘sinners’ expecting to be repaid in full.”

  Capturing the meaning in this manner is helpful, but in this passage it can also limit our understanding because of the word credit. The original language word here is charis, which is usually translated “grace,” most notably in Ephesians 2:8: “For it is by grace (charis) you have been saved, through faith.” Literally, what Jesus is saying here is, “If you love those who love you, you won't get any charis for that.” The word charis can mean “to thank,” which is how it is translated in the King James Version of the Bible. But what if the full range of meaning associated with charis is in order here, both thanks and grace? “If you love those who love you, you won't get any thanks or grace for that.”

  To capture the full meaning of this teaching, we need to go one step further, turning the negative into a positive, as follows:

  “If you love those who don't love you, you will receive grace for that. And if you do good to those who are not good to you, you will receive grace for that. And if you lend to those from whom you don't expect repayment, you will receive grace for that.”

  How can anyone possibly live out this truth in a redefined neighborhood that includes people who are not like me, don't like me, can't repay me, and probably won't thank me? How can we practice the central truth of the Good Samaritan, taking initiative to
overcome barriers and cross boundaries to show God's mercy by serving others? You will need grace for that.

  TAKE MY COAT TOO

  Jesus has radically redefined the neighborhood, not just for first-century religious experts, but for all of us. It includes people who aren't like us, don't like us, can't repay us, and won't thank us. What does this look like in real life? I can't think of a better example than the unusual evening commute of Julio Diaz. You may remember hearing his story, as told on National Public Radio.

  Like most of us, Julio Diaz is a creature of habit. The thirty-one-year-old social worker ends his hour-long subway commute on the Number 6 train to the Bronx one stop early every night so he can enjoy a meal at his favorite diner. But his routine took an unexpected turn on the platform one evening as he walked toward the stairs. A teenage boy approached Julio, pulled out a knife, and asked for his money.

  With a combination of street smarts and survival skills, Julio handed over his wallet. If the story ended here, it would be unfortunate and unremarkable. But just as for Julio Diaz, this teenage burglar's evening was about to take an unexpected turn. As he walked away, wallet in hand, Julio called out to his attacker.

  “Hey, wait a minute. You forgot something. If you're going to be robbing people for the rest of the night, you might as well take my coat to keep you warm.”2

  Surprised and suspicious, the teen asked his victim, “Why are you doing this?” Julio replied: “If you're willing to risk your freedom for a few dollars, then I guess you must really need the money. I mean, all I wanted to do was get dinner and if you really want to join me … hey, you're more than welcome.”3

  With that invitation, a most unusual duo walked out of the subway to the diner. Because Julio eats at this location almost every day after work, he was greeted cordially by everyone from waiters to dishwashers, including the manager. His unlikely dinner guest was surprised and confused by the friendships Julio had formed with such an eclectic mix of people at the diner. As they talked over a meal, Julio asked the teen what he really wanted out of life, but his only response was a solemn and sad stare into space.

  As they finished eating, the bill arrived. Julio pointed out that he had no money and suggested if the teen returned the wallet, dinner would be on him. Without even thinking about it, the teen returned Julio's wallet. In addition to dinner, Julio gave his new acquaintance $20, asking for something in return—the teen's knife, which he also handed over.

  Julio summed up the experience, saying, “I figure, you know, if you treat people right, you can only hope that they treat you right. It's as simple as it gets in this complicated world.”4

  I believe it takes more than courage to do what Julio Diaz did. You will need grace for that. And I believe God wants to give it to you.

  THE HOOD GETS BIGGER, THE WORLD GETS SMALLER

  Take a moment to think about the scope and the scale of what Jesus is really teaching us here.

  In redefining the neighborhood, Jesus erased the logical barriers we construct in our minds and hearts to keep out the people we have been culturally preconditioned to exclude from neighborly initiatives. He has made the neighborhood in which Good Samaritan activities should play out bigger than it was before. As He did with the disciples in Samaria, Jesus is exhorting us—“Open your eyes!”

  But while the hood is getting bigger, the world is getting smaller. Many of the people who aren't like me, don't like me, won't thank me, and couldn't repay me live far away from me. In Jesus' day, I may not even have known they existed. And should they experience difficulty, the equivalent of being left for dead along the side of the road, it is very unlikely I would have ever heard about it at all. But we don't live in that world. It has changed … forever. The impact of globalization makes the world smaller, and the redefinition of the neighborhood makes the world bigger. These two forces are converging upon us, demanding more intentional reflection on how to balance the demands of loving a mugger in America and a mullah in Afghanistan, between showing mercy to a needy person at the exit ramp on my commute home from work and an earthquake victim in Haiti, between Eutisha Rennix and Bant Singh.

  How do we prevent better information about what is happening in the world from becoming burdensome information that overwhelms us, stifling rather than empowering action? We'll focus our attention on that important question in part 2, exploring how to work together with God to transform a flood of information into rivers of passion that fuel a purposeful life. But before we turn that corner, there are a few more lessons and observations we can extrapolate from the story of the Good Samaritan.

  Chapter 3

  FROM INFORMATION TO ACTION

  Cannibals want missionaries.

  Those three words on a promotional flyer in Liverpool, England, captured the imagination of C. T. Studd. C. T. had served as a missionary in both China and India, and his curiosity was duly piqued upon reading this creatively worded advertisement. He had to go in. Once inside the meeting, he heard Dr. Karl Kumm share about the desperate needs in the heart of Africa. The big-game hunters, mapmakers, merchants, and explorers had gone; but no one had gone for the cause of Christ. And millions of people were still waiting for their first chance to hear the gospel message.

  C. T. Studd was an unlikely candidate for pioneer service of this nature. He was fifty years old and had returned to England due to failing health after serving in India for fifteen years. But the information he heard in that meeting seeped into his heart like soaking rain on parched soil. Information gave birth to compassion that demanded action.

  He wrote about that night, describing the feelings he had upon hearing of the great need:

  “The shame sank deep into one's soul. I said, ‘Why have no Christians gone?’ God replied, ‘Why don't you go?’ ‘The doctors won't permit it,’ I said. The answer came, ‘Am I not the Good Physician? Can I not take you through? Can I not keep you there?’ There were no excuses, it had to be done.”1

  At this unlikely moment in the journey, a new sense of responsibility for the needs of others was taking shape. But it would require sacrificial obedience. C. T. had no money. He was not up to the challenges physically. How could he survive in tropical Africa? And what mission organization would send him?

  A group of businessmen formed a committee to back the venture, on one condition—C. T. must receive the clearance of a doctor. The doctor's report was dead set against C. T. Studd's participation in this project. He responded to the committee, saying, “Gentlemen, God has called me to go, and I will go. I will blaze a trail, though my grave may only become a stepping stone that younger men may follow.”2 C. T. Studd did die in Africa, more than twenty years later, after founding a new mission society called the Heart of Africa Mission, today WEC International.

  PRINCIPLE AND PATTERN

  C. T. Studd's response to what he learned about the heart of Africa that night in Liverpool clearly reflects the single thought, the one overarching principle Jesus communicated in the story of the Good Samaritan. God expects us to take initiative in crossing boundaries and overcoming barriers to show His mercy by serving others. How you respond to the needs of others depends on who you love the most. If you love God first, you will live others-focused. But his story also mirrors a pattern modeled by Jesus and reflected in the story of the Good Samaritan. It is a pattern you have likely experienced in your own journey:

  Information leads to compassion.

  Compassion demands action.

  “But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him” (Luke 10:33-34).

  In this progression the Samaritan man is giving us a visual answer to the question, “What would Jesus do?” Repeatedly in His public ministry Jesus operated in this same pattern. He saw people in need, was moved with compassion, and took practical action. After hearing the news of John the Baptist's beheading, Jesus wanted some time alone to mourn the death of His friend. So Jesus “withdrew by boat privately to a solitar
y place.” Yet even in this time of personal sorrow, “When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick” (Matthew 14:14).

  PREACTION EXIT RAMPS

  The story of the Good Samaritan explicitly states all three men traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho—the priest, Levite, and Samaritan—saw the man left for dead on the side of the road. In this setting they literally fixed their eyes on him. But the original language word translated “saw” can also mean “to be aware of.” It would be foolish to limit the sense of responsibility we have in serving others to those who actually fall in our field of view, as if somehow literally turning our back on the needy exonerates us. We'll revisit this issue later in the chapter, specifically focusing on how globalization complicates this part of the process. For now, suffice it to say, the first stage in the pattern is information: “He saw him.”

  The New International Version describes the Samaritan's response to the information about the wounded traveler, saying, “He took pity on him.” The original-language word here is almost always translated as “compassion.” When Jesus is described as being moved with compassion, it is the same Greek word used here in the story of the Good Samaritan (see Matthew 14:14; 15:32; 20:34). Literally the phrase means “to have the bowels yearn.” Today we might describe it as a “gut-wrenching” experience. Awareness of the need, information (“he saw him”) produced compassion (“he took pity on him),” which resulted in practical action (“he went to him).”