Compassion - the Face of Grace

 

Compassion – The Face of Grace

Just then a lawyer stood up with a question to test Jesus. "Teacher, what do I need to do to get eternal life?" He answered, "What's written in God's Law? How do you interpret it?" He said, "That you love the Lord your God with all your passion and prayer and muscle and intelligence—and that you love your neighbor as well as you do yourself." "Good answer!" said Jesus. "Do it and you'll live." Looking for a loophole, he asked, "And just how would you define 'neighbor'?" Jesus answered by telling a story.

"There was once a man traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho. On the way he was attacked by robbers. They took his clothes, beat him up, and went off leaving him half-dead. Luckily, a priest was on his way down the same road, but when he saw him he angled across to the other side. Then a Levite religious man showed up; he also avoided the injured man. A Samaritan traveling the road came on him. When he saw the man's condition, his heart went out to him. He gave him first aid, disinfecting and bandaging his wounds. Then he lifted him onto his donkey, led him to an inn, and made him comfortable. In the morning, he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper, saying, 'Take good care of him. If it costs any more, put it on my bill—I'll pay you on my way back.'

"What do you think? Which of the three became a neighbor to the man attacked by robbers?" "The one who treated him kindly," the religious scholar responded. Jesus said, "Go and do the same." (Luke 10:25-37)

This is the well-known story of the “Good Samaritan,” and Jesus tells the story in response to a question from a smart aleck lawyer. Basically, the question was this: “What must I do to be saved?” And you can just see Jesus kind of grinning as he throws the question right back into the lawyer’s lap: "What’s written in God’s law? How do you interpret it?" Jesus asks the question, the man gives the answer and then Jesus responds by saying, “Good answer! Do it and you’ll live.” But the lawyer did what lawyers always do – he looked for a loophole. So, wanting to justify himself, the lawyer said, "How would you define ‘neighbor’?" He’d apparently measured himself against both commands and figured that he’d aced the first, but keeping the second would depend on how you defined “neighbor.” In other words, the lawyer was suggesting that his response would depend on what “is” is.

You don’t have to be a weisenheimer lawyer to distil God’s commands down to something with which you can live. We’d like to believe that loving our neighbor means loving people who love us back, or at least that are lovable, i.e., doing nice things for people who’ll probably do nice things back. But the lawyer’s original question was, “What do I have to do to get into Heaven?” Jesus’ answer to that question, however, didn’t tell him what he had to do to get “in” but, instead, described what a person who’s already “in” looks like. The lawyer knew the right answers but was unprepared to face what compassion looks like in real life because this wasn’t a mere hypothetical.

The 15-mile journey from Jericho to Jerusalem was infamous. It’s about an eight (8) hour walk and rises 3,750 vertical feet, or about the same as the North Backbone Trail in Wrightwood, California. Not only was it a steep climb, but there were numerous places along the way where highwaymen would lie in wait for their next, unsuspecting victim. In fact, the route was so treacherous it was referred to as the “Way of Blood.” And, since Jesus didn’t call it a parable, it would have been a very believable story to those who were listening, and it’s a primer on compassion, or grace with a face.

Jesus starts the story by referring to the victim as “a man…;” we’d probably say, “Some guy….” The man, likely a Jewish male, had been robbed, wounded and left for dead. He needed help in the worst possible way. And as the anonymous victim lay half-dead on the side of the road, three different men cross his path. The first is introduced as a priest, luckily so, but when he saw the man he crossed to the other side and kept on going. Now some have offered excuses for the priest by suggesting that he didn’t want to touch the man because he might have been dead. And had that been true, it would have rendered the priest ceremonially unclean and unable to carry out his duties for seven (7) days. But notice that it says that he “was on his way down the same road.” In other words, he was leaving church. And if anyone were going to reflect the character of God, you’d think it would have been a priest.

The second passerby was a Levite, a member of the tribe of Levi that performed certain religious duties for the Israelites, including taking on some political responsibilities as well. Now, at least the Levite went over and looked at the victim, but he was just rubber-necking. He’s the one who slows down and cranes his neck while driving by an accident and then says, “Whew, I’m glad that wasn’t me!”? And just like the preacher, he did nothing to help the wounded. Together, both men saw the victim but ignored his need. They were two religious professionals caught up in a lifeless religion – pious at church, but their religion had no effect on the way they actually lived. And it would have been shocking enough if Jesus had told his audience that some ordinary Joe came to the victim’s aid. But their jaws dropped once hearing that the guy was a Samaritan who’d come to the rescue of a Jewish man who’d been ignored by his own religious family – twice. Here’s a little background as to why.

When Israel and Judah divided, the ancient city of Shechem became the religious center of the Northern Kingdom. However, in about 883 B.C., the political capital of the nation was moved by King Omri to his newly-built city of Samaria where it remained until it fell to the Assyrians about 100 years later. The captives were promptly exiled to various parts of Assyria, and colonists were sent to fill the vacuum created by the ethnic cleansing. As a result, a mixed people with a mixed religion filled the void. They were considered unclean and to be avoided at all costs if you were a practicing Jew. Being called a “Samaritan” was not a compliment, since they were considered “half-breeds” and referred to as “dogs.”

So, it would have been easy to conclude that the Samaritan would’ve simply finished the guy off instead of coming to his rescue. In those days, the words “good” and “Samaritan” were never used in the same sentence because, from a Jewish perspective, there was nothing “good” about a “Samaritan.” But the passage says that “when he saw the man’s condition, his heart went out to him.” The Greek word is splagchnizomai, which means “compassion,” and refers to the intestines, or bowels. It’s that feeling that comes from the deepest part of you since, in those days, the bowels were thought to be the seat of love and pity; a “gut feeling,” so to speak.

So, the Samaritan saw the same victim lying in agony beside the road, but his heart couldn’t let him pass by without helping. And that’s the way compassion should affect us. It should stir us; trouble us; keep us awake at night until we do something. And when the Samaritan looked at that suffering man lying half-dead by the side of the road, something happened in his gut; something made it impossible for him to simply walk away and do nothing. He didn’t decide to help this guy on the basis of how worthy the victim was because, remember, this is a Samaritan helping a Jewish casualty. He helped him because of how needy he was. Frankly, there’s no logical reason the Samaritan should have rearranged his plans or spent his money to help the enemy. Of all the people who passed the injured man, the Samaritan had the least reason to help. The Samaritan was despised by society, and a good deed wouldn’t do anything to change the Samaritan’s social status.

He helped because the victim needed assistance. But not only was the Samaritan’s compassion based upon the need, rather than the worth of the victim, it also caused the Samaritan to feel something so deeply that it had to be expressed in action. He didn’t pass by on the other side feeling all compassionate and then say “Godspeed!” He moved toward the injured man instead and acted in relation to the man’s need. Compassion is not something that just magically happens. It takes effort. But only by moving toward people can we express the compassion of which Jesus spoke.

Frankly, being compassionate can be inconvenient because had the victim been conscious and aware of who was helping him, he probably would have refused the help. And, had the sandal been on the other foot, the victim probably wouldn’t have returned the favor. But Jesus, in six simple verbs, details the Samaritan’s compassion-in-action: (1) he went to him; (2) he gave him aid; (3) he bandaged his wounds; (4) he lifted him onto his donkey; (5) he led him to an inn; and (6) he took care of him. In every one of these acts, he demonstrated compassion by responding in a practical, timely and unselfish way. In fact, putting the injured man on his own donkey meant that the Samaritan had to walk uphill to the inn to help a stranger with whom he had strong, long-standing cultural and religious differences.

This season, we can’t help everywhere, and we can’t help everyone. But we can help someone somewhere by providing physical or spiritual aid to a hurting soul. We can’t do it all, but we can do our all for some. And you’ve got to give it to the Samaritan – he went the extra mile, literally. He took this man to an inn and ensured that the innkeeper would care for the victim during his absence. He also promised that he would return and reimburse the innkeeper for any additional expense that he incurred while caring for the victim. And, to top it all off, he left two days’ wages to take care of the man’s needs and didn’t put a limit on how much he would be willing to spend to see the wounded man made better. There’s nothing more the Samaritan could have done to show his compassion.

At the conclusion of the story, Jesus asks the lawyer one last question: “What do you think? Which of the three became a neighbor to the man…?”  The lawyer almost chokes on his reply. In fact, he can’t even bring himself to say the word, “Samaritan,” so he responds by saying, “(t)he one who treated him kindly.” In other words, “that guy.” Then, for the second time, Jesus tells the lawyer to "Go and do the same.” But why does Jesus say that? Because Jesus knows that the slick lawyer won’t turn to him for salvation until he turns from his dependence on “doing” something to earn it. Isn’t it funny how the initial question asked by the lawyer, “How would you define ‘neighbor’?” became, “What kind of a neighbor are you?”

Compassion is the face of grace. It’s the misery that we make our own that we can comfort; the want we make our own that we can satisfy. It’s the sin we make our own from which we can save another; and the gauge by which we can measure the sincerity and genuineness of our faith – even toward people with whom we may disagree.

Happy Thanksgiving,

Randy