I recently attended “Meet the Teacher Night.” I’ve attended more than a decade of these. Generally, they focus one one thing: helping parents understand how their child can successfully pass the class. The teacher provides information on curriculum and assignments. Student expectations are explained. The parents leave with a grasp of what their child will need to do during the school year in order to excel. Of course, teachers and administrators are ultimately interested in something greater–helping students engage in learning for life. The best schools strive to cultivate a life-long love of learning. But, on “Meet the Teacher Night,” it’s hard to remember that. Especially for the parents, it’s mostly about “How can I help my son/daughter pass this class?”
It’s tempting to apply this way of thinking to spirituality. The very best of us do it.
That seems to be what’s driving “the lawyer” who asks Jesus, “Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?” (Luke 10:25). We’re told the lawyer asks the question in order to put Jesus “to the test” (Luke 10:25). “Lawyer” means someone who’s an expert in the Old Testament law. He already knows the answer to his question. In fact, he tells Jesus the answer after asking the question: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself” (Luke 10:27). But the first question is really just a ruse to get to the second question. The lawyer knows that Jesus knows that he knows the answer to the first question. The lawyer knows Jesus will approve of and applaud his answer. He also knows that the first question will open the door to the question he most want to ask: “But he, desiring to justify himself, said to Jesus, ‘And who is my neighbor?'”
The second question is motivated by his desire to “justify himself.” The word “justify” means “to declare righteous,” “to vindicate.” It’s clear the lawyer has a view of spirituality that’s mostly about passing the class. He’s already turned in his homework and he now wants Jesus to admit that he’s done all that’s required. Like the first question, with the second question, he believes he already knows the answer. And he’s ready for his “A+.”
It’s quite likely that the lawyer has followed the conventional wisdom about loving neighbor:
- “Place your bread on the grave of the righteous, but give none to sinners” (Tob. 4:17)
- “Give to the devout, but do not help the sinner.” (Sir. 12:1-7)
Among the lawyers peers, there were clearly defined expectations about who was a neighbor. “Neighbor” generally meant “the good/ godly/ righteous.” Worshipers of God were most required to love other worshipers of God. The lawyer believed he’d met those expectations and he’d come for his report card. He’d already shown kindness to those most worthy of it. Now it was time to graduate.
But while the lawyer asks about the way to life, Jesus responds with a story about a way of life. While the lawyer is interested in clear definitions, Jesus tells a story that erases them. God, Jesus teaches, is interested in something that’s life-long.
In Jesus’ story, we meet two characters who also seem to have clearly defined arenas for their spirituality–a priest and a Levite. Both are headed from Jerusalem down the nearly twenty-mile path to Jericho. Jericho was a popular residence for the orders of priests. As many as half of the orders lived there. Each order served in the Temple in Jerusalem for one week. Both the priest and the Levite have probably completed a period of service at the Temple.
Both “see” a victim on the path (“a priest was going down that road, and when he saw him…So likewise, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him…”) (Luke 10:31-32). But what they “see” is not a “neighbor.” What they see, most likely, is just a corpse. Jesus indicates the man was “half-dead” (Luke 10:31). And though we are not explicitly told, it seems that their action of passing by “on the other side” (Luke 10:31; 32) is motivated by their fear of being defiled. Contact with a corpse caused defilement for seven days (Num. 19:11-22). Priests could not have contact with any corpse except those of close relatives (Lev. 21:1-4). Rabbinic texts urged Jews to keep at least six feet from a corpse.
Perhaps, in their minds, if the priest and Levite touched this victim and he was indeed dead, the defilement would then keep them from performing their religious duties. And, ultimately, those were the duties that mattered the most. Passing the one class that mattered meant being able to fulfill their prescribed duties as priest and Levite. And any defilement would bring a failing grade when it came to those duties. The greatest significance was assigned to what each did in the Temple and in other sacred settings. What they did out here in this barren land had little significance–unless it hindered the former. So they walked on by. Because this person and this situation had no bearing on their ability to win God’s “A+.”
Some of us want a religion like that. One with clear boundaries and markers. One with expectations easily defined and met. One where what matters most is what we do for God in a church building on a Sunday morning. One where what matters most is how we love our family at home (after all, these days “family” has become our version of “neighbor”–those we are most required to love). One where there’s little significance to what we do while on the commute to work or while picking up items at the grocery store or while coaching a sports team. The true arenas for spirituality become church and home. We love God at church and we love neighbor at home. And we pass the class.
But, it turns out, God’s interested in a far more exciting and dangerous enterprise. He believes that love and faith reach far beyond church buildings and home. Faith and love reach as far as a barren, hilly, bandit-laden twenty-mile stretch from Jerusalem to Jericho. That’s the true test of faith and love. That’s where it moves from something we do to something we are.
