But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” (NIV)

My question for you to consider today is, “Are you someone who is always on the lookout for the loophole?” According to the dictionary, a loophole can be defined as a means of escape, especially an ambiguity or omission in the text through which the intent of a statute, contract, or obligation may be evaded. An example I remember hearing from my childhood is when a wealthy relative found all the loopholes one year in order to pay zero taxes. I imagine this relative was quite proud of his accomplishment and considered himself financially savvy. But my parents, a nurse and a public-school teacher, often struggled to pay the taxes they owed the government. Each year they still faithfully made their contribution for city roads, the fire department, and schools, all while the relative who had a much larger income had figured out a way to dodge supporting his community. Now, putting aside your own beliefs about paying taxes and how the government spends them (which I realize might feel challenging right before an election), one might say that, technically, my relative had escaped the intent of the law: to contribute a portion of his earnings to share with his neighbors.

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In our story today, a teacher of the law (the Amplified version even calls him a “lawyer”) is testing Jesus and looking for the loophole to get into heaven. You may be familiar with the Good Samaritan story, but this exchange right before Jesus tells it is important for context. The teacher says, “What should I do to inherit eternal life?” (Lk. 10:25). Jesus directs him back to the Old Testament law of Moses. The Jewish leader replies that he should love God with everything he has and love his neighbor as himself. Jesus told him, yes, go ahead and do that, and “you will live” (v. 28). But it seems the teacher wanted to skillfully and logically evade God’s mandate in the law to love your neighbor. In verse 29 we learn the lawyer “wanted to justify himself.” Other translations say, “justify his actions” or “justify and vindicate himself,” so he asks the famous question, “And who is my neighbor?”  

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I think this expert in the Torah was hoping to make the definition of neighbor very small and manageable, but instead Jesus tells a parable that makes the circle of inclusion for that word way bigger than the man is comfortable with. Jesus tells him a story about a man from a hated people group who did the right thing, even when those he assumed would have acted righteously crossed to the other side of the street.  

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Now, Jewish law did state that one would be unclean if he helped a bleeding, dirty victim of robbery, so, in a way, they found the loophole excuse for not helping. But by contrast, the Samaritan risked much by helping, likely getting blood on his own clothes, taking a strange man with him to an inn, and paying for his care. The Samaritan did the right thing by the spirit of the law, putting aside a generations-long feud between his people and the Jewish people. The lawyer understood the letter of the law because he could quote the Torah commandment, but his heart was not yet ready to obey the spirit of the law.

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Jesus calls us to a more difficult, but kingdom-minded way of defining our neighbors. Each person we encounter in this life is made in God’s image and therefore has inherent worth, deserving whatever help we can give as the Spirit leads us in particular situations. That doesn’t mean you have to give money to every person who is homeless standing on the street, but we shouldn’t just decide people without homes do not deserve our help. Instead, we should find ways to help our literal neighbors who may not have a safe, warm place to sleep at night.

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Where might you be trying to find a loophole to what God has commanded you to do to love others?  May God give us eyes to see our neighbors this week and the love of Christ to share with everyone God puts in our path.

Merciful God, we confess that we often let our culture tell us who is good and not good, who we should love as our neighbors and who we should despise. We look for loopholes when we should be looking for ways to love. Please give us eyes to see those around us the way you do, with compassion and curiosity, as image-bearers deserving of grace and mercy. Help us not to cross to the other side of the road literally or figuratively when we see someone who is hurting, but to sacrificially care for those in need. We thank you for your grace toward us who were once outsiders because of our sin, now brought into the family of God because of Jesus’ sacrifice for us. In his mighty name we pray, Amen.