Neighbor, What's Up?

Everyone seems to know the story of the Good Samaritan.

It is one of those rare biblical stories that has escaped the walls of the church and entered everyday language. Hospitals are named after him. Laws are named after him. Charities bear his name. Even people who have never opened a Bible still know what a “Good Samaritan” is supposed to be.

And that familiarity is dangerous.

Because when a story feels familiar, we assume we already know what Jesus is doing with it. We assume it is safe. Predictable. Manageable. We assume it is about being nicer, more compassionate, more attentive to others.

But Jesus did not tell this story to make us feel inspired.

He told it to expose something.

The story does not begin with a wounded man in a ditch. It begins with a man standing upright, confident, articulate, and convinced he is asking the right question.

A lawyer stood up to test Jesus.

That detail matters.

This man is not confused. He is not broken. He is not searching. He is a lawyer in the biblical sense, an expert in the law of Moses. He knows Scripture. He knows the commandments. He knows how religious conversations work. And Luke tells us plainly that he is not seeking truth. He is testing Jesus.

He asks a question that every human being eventually asks, whether they use these words or not.

What must I do to inherit eternal life?

That is not a casual question. That is the question.

How do I get right with God? What does God require? What is the path to life?

Jesus answers in a way that is both gracious and devastating. He does not argue. He does not correct. He does not lecture. He turns the question back on the man.

What is written in the Law? How do you read it?

The lawyer answers correctly.

You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.

That is sound theology. That is Scripture quoted accurately. That is the right answer.

And Jesus affirms it.

You have answered correctly. Do this, and you will live.

That sentence should stop us cold.

Because Jesus does not soften the requirement. He does not lower the standard. He does not say, “Do your best.” He does not say, “Try harder.”

He says love God perfectly. Love your neighbor perfectly. Do this, and you will live.

At that moment, the law stands fully intact.

And that is the problem.

Because the law does not exist to make us feel capable. It exists to tell us the truth.

And the truth is uncomfortable.

We do not love God with all our heart. We do not love God with all our soul. We do not love God with all our strength. We do not love God with all our mind.

And we do not love our neighbor as ourselves.

The law is not cruel. It is honest.

Paul would later say, “When I saw the law, it killed me.” Not because the law was wrong, but because he was.

If the lawyer had stopped there, if he had gone silent, if he had said, “I cannot do this,” the conversation would have gone very differently.

But Luke tells us something chilling.

But he, wanting to justify himself.

That phrase unlocks the entire parable.

He is not asking for mercy. He is not confessing failure. He is not seeking forgiveness. He is still trying to justify himself.

So he asks a second question.

And who is my neighbor?

That is not an innocent question.

It is an attempt to draw a boundary. To define the minimum. To limit responsibility.

Just tell me who counts and who does not.

If I know who qualifies, I can measure myself. If I can measure myself, I can justify myself.

And it is right there, at the moment of self-justification, that Jesus tells the story.

A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho.

That road was notorious. Steep. Isolated. Dangerous. Everyone listening knew it. This was where robberies happened. This was where travelers were attacked.

The man is beaten. Stripped. Left half dead.

Jesus gives no name. No ethnicity. No moral resume.

He is simply human. Wounded. Helpless. Dying.

Now the question is no longer abstract.

Who will stop?

A priest comes along.

A man who knows the law. A man who handles holy things. A man who can quote the commandments.

He sees the man.

Jesus is careful with that word. He sees him.

And he passes by on the other side.

Then a Levite comes.

Another religious man. Another servant of the temple. Another man trained in Scripture.

He also sees the man.