Last week, a lawyer asked Jesus, what is the greatest commandment? Jesus answered that it was to love God with everything, and love our neighbours as ourselves. Then, right after that answer, Jesus told a story:
But he, desiring to justify himself, said to Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and he fell among robbers, who stripped him and beat him and departed, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a priest was going down that road, and when he saw him he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he journeyed, came to where he was, and when he saw him, he had compassion. He went to him and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he set him on his own animal and brought him to an inn and took care of him. And the next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper, saying, ‘Take care of him, and whatever more you spend, I will repay you when I come back.’ Which of these three, do you think, proved to be a neighbor to the man who fell among the robbers?” He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” And Jesus said to him, “You go, and do likewise.” (Luke 10:25-37 ESV)
Jesus set up a high standard, based on the Old Testament part of the Bible, that was undeniable for the lawyer. So, instead of challenging it, the lawyer tries to get around it. He tries to find a loophole, by asking Jesus to define neighbour. If he has to love his neighbour, perhaps he can choose who qualifies as a neighbour. Just the people next door? Just those of my race, religion, education or income level?
He’s asking the same question as many readers today – who exactly is my neighbour, so I can make sure I love the minimum number of people necessary?
So Jesus tells this story, known as the story of the good Samaritan. The two religious professionals, the Levite and Priest, are too concerned with ritual purity to stop. His first Jewish hearers might have been thinking this was an anti-clerical message about underdogs like them being heroes in contrast to prideful authorities.
But then Jesus introduces a Samaritan into the story as the hero. Samaritans and Jews avoided each other. There was lots of bad blood, that went back a long way. And yet Jesus makes him the hero. The Samaritan was a true neighbour, even to his enemy.
Jesus challenges the prevailing beliefs about what it meant to love God. Good piety includes loving care for others, not just purity.
Then he goes further, and tells the legal expert, “You go and do likewise.” He’s essentially saying, “Legal expert, be like this guy, who followed the law you claim to know. “
After hearing Jesus’ command to love our neighbour last week, how many of us tried to find a loophole? Is loving our neighbour really that bad? When I trained to be a paramedic, one of the first questions the class asked was, “When I’m off duty, do I have to stop and pull over if I see an accident?” The answer was no, you can drive past, but if you stop you need to stay until another professional takes over. There’s a loophole – a paramedic off duty simply can’t stop at every accident.
But as a Christian, is there a similar loophole?
Question: How have you tried to justify or rationalize not loving someone like yourself?
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Hi, welcome to Redeem the Commute. I'm Ryan your host of the Daily Challenges. Here we are in a cemetery because this week we're studying how following Jesus resets our views of death, and in fact, Jesus resets death itself.
In yesterday’s passage, a Christian leader named Paul calls dead Christians “those who are asleep”. The suggestion is that they will wake up in the kingdom of heaven, and be no different from those who might be alive when the kingdom of heaven arrives fully. How does Paul figure?
They will wake up because Jesus woke up. There is a direct connection.
Jesus Died – definitely. We have lots of great textual evidence that matches science to say that Jesus definitely died, it was no mistake. See Christianity 101 for more! He spent Saturday in the tomb, and rose on Sunday. In that time in the tomb, he destroyed death’s power. Usually death is final, but Jesus treated it like a 3 day nap.
Death is nothing to fear for one of Jesus’ followers. Paul asked elsewhere: death, where is your sting? He taunts it, knowing it has no power. Jesus’ victory is not just someone else’s victory to celebrate. He was the first, not the last, so we can follow him not just in life, but through death to new life.
He doesn’t promise that we’ll never die a physical death, like the Thessalonian Christians apprently thought. But if we do, he will raise us.
One pastor asked a child whose mother died: would you rather be run over by a truck, or its shadow. It’s shadow, because it wouldn’t hurt. Well, your mother has not been run over by death, but by the shadow of death.
Regardless of whether we are alive or dead when the kingdom comes, it comes. We arrive there not by our own power, religiosity, etc. but by Jesus’ pioneering work on the cross. He went through death, conquering it first, and invites you to follow.
But that’s just death, how does this impact life? You may know the song, “Live like you were dying”. The idea in that song, and else where, is that if you’re dying you waste everything you have, party it up, before it’s all gone and you’re over.
But if death is destroyed by Jesus, death is now a state we pass through, so living like you were dying means living like every day brings you closer to God’s kingdom. That means using our resources wisely, no wasting them. It means preparing for the kingdom of heaven, so often described as a party, not just partying it up for a moment.
For a Christian, living like you were dying means not taking the short view, but the long view of eternity.
Question: How does Jesus’ death impact your own view of life, and death?
