The Samaritan and the Student (Luke 10:25-42)
Journey with Jesus to the Cross, Wednesday, March 23
Read Luke 10:25-42
One of the difficulties in reading familiar gospel stories is that we tend to see in them only what we’ve always seen.
Today’s text is a perfect example of this problem. We encounter the Good Samaritan and think, “Oh yes, I should help people whenever I can.” We read about Mary and Martha and reflect, “Oh yes, I must not be so busy like Martha; I must spend time with Jesus like Mary.”
When we do this, we miss the radical nature of these controversial stories. We unintentionally turn Jesus' message into something very different than it was in the first place.
Consider first the story of the Good Samaritan. “Who is my neighbor?” the lawyer asked. It was a reasonable question, for in typical Jewish thought, your neighbor was a Jew. The God of Israel was the God of the Jews. His command to love your neighbor extended only to Jews. But what would Jesus say?
Always the master storyteller, Jesus turns the tables on his hearers with a surprising twist in his tale. His listeners knew the treacherous Jericho road terrain. A half dead man beaten by robbers was a tragic but not unfamiliar sight. In addition, when a priest and Levite passed by on the other side, no one would have been surprised. You can’t expect religious people to risk ceremonial uncleanness by helping a dying man.
But when the Samaritan shows up – now that’s a surprise! Nobody saw that coming. And when the despised Samaritan shows compassion to the man on the road, who knows what to think? Even more astounding, Jesus turned the neighbor question upside down: whereas the lawyer asked Jesus, “who is my neighbor?” Jesus asked the lawyer, “[who] proved to be a neighbor to the man?”
By putting the emphasis on “being a neighbor” Jesus puts the onus of responsibility on us to take the initiative in loving others. And by making a hated Samaritan the star of the story, Jesus reminds us that the responsibility of neighborliness does not stop at the edge of any ethnic, economic, or religious boundary.
Jesus closes his conversation with the lawyer with a pointed admonition: “Go, and do likewise.” We cannot escape the uncomfortable conclusion that following Jesus is never merely an intellectual exercise; Jesus expects us to love others with the same kind of barrier-breaking behavior that he himself exemplified.
The story of the Samaritan surprises us, but the story of Mary and Martha might very well offend us. For in it we will see that, not only has Jesus drawn the circle of his kingdom wide enough to include Samaritans (and by extension, the whole world); he has also opened up the kingdom to women in a way never before seen in human history.
Let us see how this works out. In that day, and today in many respects, cultural roles for men and women were rigidly enforced. Mary’s place was in the kitchen with the rest of the women. But where was she? She “sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to his teaching.” What does it mean to sit at someone’s feet? Does it mean to gaze adoringly at his face? No. It means what it meant when Paul used the expression about himself: “I am a Jew … educated at the feet of Gamaliel” (Acts 22:3). Paul was a student training to become a Rabbi.
Mary’s offense was not merely that she was abandoning the housework to Martha. It was worse than that: she was sitting among the men as if she were a student of Jesus just like they were. A student sat at the feet of his master in order to one day become a teacher himself; why is Jesus allowing her to take her place among that group?
Martha was scandalized by this breach of boundaries; so might some of us be. If so, good for us. It indicates that we’re wrestling with the radical nature of Jesus’ teaching about the kingdom of God — just like they had to in the first century. Perhaps we’re beginning to hear the message of the kingdom in all its resplendent, scandalous glory. For while the kingdom is wide enough to include the whole world, it is personal enough to challenge every individual. “Go and do likewise,” Jesus said; we do well to heed what he said.
“Lord, help me always to be open to the scandalous message of the gospel. Help me to sit at your feet, as Mary did, and then to put feet on my faith, as Jesus told us to do.”
When we do this, we miss the radical nature of these controversial stories. We unintentionally turn Jesus' message into something very different than it was in the first place.
Consider first the story of the Good Samaritan. “Who is my neighbor?” the lawyer asked. It was a reasonable question, for in typical Jewish thought, your neighbor was a Jew. The God of Israel was the God of the Jews. His command to love your neighbor extended only to Jews. But what would Jesus say?
Always the master storyteller, Jesus turns the tables on his hearers with a surprising twist in his tale. His listeners knew the treacherous Jericho road terrain. A half dead man beaten by robbers was a tragic but not unfamiliar sight. In addition, when a priest and Levite passed by on the other side, no one would have been surprised. You can’t expect religious people to risk ceremonial uncleanness by helping a dying man.
But when the Samaritan shows up – now that’s a surprise! Nobody saw that coming. And when the despised Samaritan shows compassion to the man on the road, who knows what to think? Even more astounding, Jesus turned the neighbor question upside down: whereas the lawyer asked Jesus, “who is my neighbor?” Jesus asked the lawyer, “[who] proved to be a neighbor to the man?”
By putting the emphasis on “being a neighbor” Jesus puts the onus of responsibility on us to take the initiative in loving others. And by making a hated Samaritan the star of the story, Jesus reminds us that the responsibility of neighborliness does not stop at the edge of any ethnic, economic, or religious boundary.
Jesus closes his conversation with the lawyer with a pointed admonition: “Go, and do likewise.” We cannot escape the uncomfortable conclusion that following Jesus is never merely an intellectual exercise; Jesus expects us to love others with the same kind of barrier-breaking behavior that he himself exemplified.
The story of the Samaritan surprises us, but the story of Mary and Martha might very well offend us. For in it we will see that, not only has Jesus drawn the circle of his kingdom wide enough to include Samaritans (and by extension, the whole world); he has also opened up the kingdom to women in a way never before seen in human history.
Let us see how this works out. In that day, and today in many respects, cultural roles for men and women were rigidly enforced. Mary’s place was in the kitchen with the rest of the women. But where was she? She “sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to his teaching.” What does it mean to sit at someone’s feet? Does it mean to gaze adoringly at his face? No. It means what it meant when Paul used the expression about himself: “I am a Jew … educated at the feet of Gamaliel” (Acts 22:3). Paul was a student training to become a Rabbi.
Mary’s offense was not merely that she was abandoning the housework to Martha. It was worse than that: she was sitting among the men as if she were a student of Jesus just like they were. A student sat at the feet of his master in order to one day become a teacher himself; why is Jesus allowing her to take her place among that group?
Martha was scandalized by this breach of boundaries; so might some of us be. If so, good for us. It indicates that we’re wrestling with the radical nature of Jesus’ teaching about the kingdom of God — just like they had to in the first century. Perhaps we’re beginning to hear the message of the kingdom in all its resplendent, scandalous glory. For while the kingdom is wide enough to include the whole world, it is personal enough to challenge every individual. “Go and do likewise,” Jesus said; we do well to heed what he said.
“Lord, help me always to be open to the scandalous message of the gospel. Help me to sit at your feet, as Mary did, and then to put feet on my faith, as Jesus told us to do.”