The Jewish man is not the one who loves, but the one who receives love. As we hear the story, we ask ‘am I the Samaritan who comes down the road or am I the beaten man lying helpless?’ It’s a crucial twist because the story doesn’t allow us to feel proud, as if we are morally superior for dispensing our charity. Jesus won’t let us justify ourselves, remember.

1. Who Is Your Neighbour?

Who is your neighbour?

If you grew up in the 70s, as I did, the word ‘neighbour’ immediately triggers Sesame Street, and the song ‘Who are the people in your neighbourhood?’. The people in the neighbourhood are ‘the people that you meet each day’.

A neighbour is in your neighbourhood – the people we jostle up against. They cut us off in traffic, they lend us bowls of sugar, they complain about our overhanging trees, and they mind our kids for us.

But the Bible invites us to see our neighbours as the ones we are supposed to love as we love ourselves.

The Old Testament law boils down to two clear commands. We know them well: love God with all your being. No compromises. And love your neighbour as you would love yourself.

If you want to gain eternal life and a place in God’s kingdom, love God with all you have, and love your neighbour as yourself. That’s who belongs to the people of God.

Who is your neighbour then? My neighbour is the one I am supposed to love.

2. Who Counts as Us? 10:25–29

This question becomes the sticking point in Jesus’ encounter with an expert in the law – the Jewish law – in Luke 10. We know something of his intention here: he stood up to test Jesus.

And his question is loaded. It’s a test. It isn’t a sincere and humble plea, but a cross-examination.

That’s because the lawyer’s question – What must I do to inherit eternal life – is not just a question about behaviour but belonging. Who is a member of the eternal life club? Who is in the tribe? Who counts as us?

Jesus answers the question with a question. And the question says ‘you’re the expert in the law, you tell us: what does the Bible say?’

The lawyer replies with the same words that Jesus himself will use when he’s asked what the greatest commandment is. Love God and love your neighbour – that’s the whole of the law in a nutshell. If you want to belong to the people of God, these are the badges.

But then comes the question that reveals everything about the lawyer’s heart – and about ours, too – in vs 29. ‘He wanted to justify himself’, Luke tells. He wants an answer that will enable him to stand as his own judge, rather than God, and to declare himself righteous and saved.

And he probably notices that, though there are only two laws, they are vast in scope: love God with all you have. Love your neighbour as yourself. So he is looking for limits. He wants Jesus to define the circle of his responsibility. How far does love have to go? Who am I obliged to love?

Who is my neighbour?

What answer do you think he’d like?

He’d say: God is the God of Israel, and my neighbours are my Jewish neighbours. People like me: my family, my tribe, my religion.

3. The Unexpected Neighbour 10:30–37

But Jesus doesn’t argue with the man. Instead, he tells him a story.

It’s one of the most famous stories of all time – so famous that it’s almost become a meme. And because of that, we have to read it very carefully. We think we know what it means, but often we don’t.

It’s about a man who is travelling a dangerous road, known in those days as ‘the Bloody Pass’. It was full of bandits and robbers.

Anyhow, the man’s journey was brutally interrupted. Robbers jumped him, took what he had and left him for dead.

And as he lies there bleeding and naked – you know the story – two travellers come past. First a priest, and then a Levite. And you can imagine what went through their heads, because you’ve thought similar thoughts.

If he’s dead, there’s nothing I can do anyway, and I’ll be made ritually unclean for my work at the Temple.

I’ve got a deadline to meet, and helping this guy will be time-consuming.

What if this is a trick, and I stop to help, and I get jumped on? It’s not safe.

And the two men walk by on the other side.

But a third man walks up. Even today, we tell stories with three people in them. It’s the classic ‘an Englishman, an American, and an Australian walked into a bar’. Or ‘a rabbi, an imam, and a priest’.

Usually, the punchline comes with the third person. And usually we find that it is our person who turns out to be the hero of the story – or their person who turns out to be the butt of the joke.

Jesus has three characters, too. But the third man who walks up is not another Israelite, but, of all people, a Samaritan.

The Jews and the Samaritans were not just friendly rivals over sporting matches, like Australia and New Zealand. They were bitter enemies.

The enemy walks up. What is he going to do? Take whatever is left of the man’s possessions? Finish him off while he’s down?

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