Like a Good Neighbor | Sunday, April 26, 2026
April 26, 2026 · Pastor Miles DeBenedictis
In this teaching
Pastor Miles examines the parable of the Good Samaritan in its full context — a know-it-all lawyer testing Jesus with the self-justifying question "Who is my neighbor?" — to show that the law demands a perfect love no one can perform, and that only Christ can transform the heart from which true, merciful love flows.
- The Good Samaritan story is told in response to a lawyer (a scholar of the Torah) who tested Jesus with a self-justifying question.
- The law demands perfect love — loving God and neighbor wholly — which exposes our sin and our inability to do it.
- The human heart instinctively seeks self-justification and looks for loopholes, as the lawyer did with "Who is my neighbor?"
- Jesus injects "sentiment" (heart compassion) into mere syntax, semantics, and praxis; the law of love moves us to merciful compassion.
- Jesus flips the lawyer's question from "Who qualifies as my neighbor?" to "Who acted like a neighbor?"
- Christianity is not behavior modification; Christ transforms our minds by transplanting our hearts, as promised in Ezekiel.
Readable is a lightly edited reading copy; Verbatim stays close to the spoken words. The audio and video are the record of what was said.
And behold, a certain lawyer stood up and tested Jesus, saying, "Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?" ... "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." ... But he, wanting to justify himself, said to Jesus, "And who is my neighbor?" ... "So which of these three do you think was a neighbor to him who fell among thieves?" And he said, "He who showed mercy on him." And Jesus said to him, "Go and do likewise." ()
The most famous story Jesus ever told was aimed at a man who thought he already knew it all — and it reveals that only Christ can change the heart.
The Know-It-All Question
For nearly twenty years I had the privilege of teaching at a Bible college — basic doctrines, church planting, hermeneutics, homiletics, Isaiah, Jeremiah, the Gospel of John, Romans, the Sermon on the Mount. And almost every semester there would be at least one know-it-all student. The thing about know-it-alls is that they want you to know they know it all — and sometimes they want everybody to know they know more than the instructor.
I'm not a big fan of know-it-alls. I value what's called epistemic humility — being humble about what you know and don't know. The problem with know-it-alls is they don't know that they don't know it all. Don Rumsfeld called these the "unknown unknowns." That's the trouble with blind spots: you don't know you have one.
One way know-it-alls tip their hand is by publicly asking a question they already think they know the answer to — hoping to draw out approval, or to catch the teacher off guard. Peter does this in . He asks, "Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? Up to seven times?" You can tell it's a show-off question because he supplies the answer himself.
And what an answer. The rabbinical teaching of the day, drawn from Amos — "for three transgressions ... and for four, I will not turn away its punishment" — was that you forgave someone up to three times; the fourth time, you're out. Peter doubles it and adds one. He expects a pat on the back. Instead Jesus says, "I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven." How many of us are grateful today that God is a forgiving God who isn't up in heaven keeping a tally?
A Certain Lawyer
We meet another man asking a know-it-all question in , and out of it comes one of Jesus's most famous stories. The context is everything. If you miss the context, the Good Samaritan becomes a moralistic plumb line used to bludgeon people — "Be nicer; be more like the Samaritan." That's true as far as it goes, but it misses the punch.
There are at least four things to notice in . First, "a certain lawyer stood up." A lawyer in the first century was not a legal representative who passed the bar; he was a scholar — an expert in the Pentateuch, the law of Moses. Often called a scribe, he spent his life with the manuscripts, copying them with painstaking care, knowing not just the syntax — the jots and tittles — but the semantics, the meaning. This is the PhD in the Pentateuch, well-versed in the rabbinical interpretations and the Talmud.
Second, he "stood up and tested" Jesus. To the expert, Jesus was just a carpenter from Galilee — and Galileans were known by their accent, the way Peter's speech later betrayed him. We tend to ascribe intelligence based on accent; our hearts are wicked that way. I've met Europeans with thick accents who speak five languages while I can barely manage one. Jesus likely had a Galilean accent too. And in that day, to be a rabbi meant you had studied under another rabbi — pedigree mattered, as it still does in the academy. Saul of Tarsus boasted he was trained under Gamaliel. But Jesus was the rabbi without a rabbi, the itinerant minister from Nazareth.
Third, the lawyer calls Jesus "Teacher" — Rabbi. I assume a certain tone in it: "So I hear you're a rabbi" — coming from a man who actually was one.
What Shall I Do?
Fourth, notice the question itself: "What shall I do to inherit eternal life?" There's a discontinuity there. Do you do anything to receive an inheritance? No. This reveals the lawyer's worldview. A couple of years ago Dennis Prager — a Jewish scholar who has written excellent commentaries on the Torah from a Jewish perspective — said in a public conversation, "My faith is a behaviorist religion. We care about your behavior. We're not so worried about the interiority of your heart." But the most well-known Jewish rabbi in history, Jesus of Nazareth, held a different view. He was deeply concerned about the interiority of the heart.
This lawyer is like that. For him it's about behavior: "What do I do to inherit eternal life?" But inheritance comes to a person not by what they do, but by who they are. For the Christian, behavior follows relational position. For this man, standing is entirely about doing.
So Jesus, like a good rabbi, answers a question with a question: "What is written in the law? What is your reading of it?" The lawyer is the expert — so Jesus asks the expert. And notice what Jesus does not do. If someone asked you tomorrow, "What do I need to do to inherit eternal life?" you'd probably snap into evangelist mode — the four spiritual laws, the Romans Road, your testimony. Jesus doesn't do that. Jesus isn't trying to make a sale; He's trying to make a disciple.
The Law Demands Perfect Love
The lawyer surfaces the essential core of the law, the Shema from Deuteronomy 6: "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength." And he adds , "You shall love your neighbor as yourself." He starts with the vertical relationship of loving God, then goes to the horizontal relationship of loving others.
Jesus's reply stuns me: "You have answered rightly. Do this and you will live." That stumbles me, because I don't believe you can merit eternal life by your works. says, "For by grace you are saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast." So why does Jesus say, "Do this and live"?
Point one: the law demands perfect love. "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself" — that is perfect love. The law demands something I cannot do. If the lawyer went out and truly tried to do it, he would soon discover he can't. As Paul says, "By the law is the knowledge of sin." Jesus is leading this man to that discovery — moving him from his head to his heart. The lawyer knew how to love with his mind; that wasn't the issue.
The Heart Seeks Self-Justification
The conversation could have ended right there. But the lawyer is testing Jesus, so he can't stop. Underline these four words: "wanting to justify himself." That's exactly what the law and religion do — they want to justify themselves. "I did all the points, I checked all the boxes." So, like a good lawyer looking for a loophole, he asks, "And who is my neighbor?"
Point two: the heart seeks self-justification. I'm not pointing a critical finger at the lawyer — this is my heart too, and yours. I'd suggest that some seventy-five percent of marital fights have everything to do with self-justification. The lawyer knew the syntax — the order of the words, the jots and tittles — and he wanted the semantics, the interpretation. For him, syntax and semantics lead to praxis: the actions.
But Jesus injects something more — a sentiment. There's a movement here from the merely logical in the head down into the heart, and it's a hard move for us. Part of it comes out in the language. The original Shema in says "heart, soul, and strength," but here the lawyer says "heart, soul, mind, and strength." Why the addition? About 300 years before Christ, translators rendered the Hebrew Scriptures into Greek in the Septuagint, and they added "mind." The Hebrew mind made no division between intellect and emotion within the soul — they were one. But the Hellenistic world, shaped by Aristotle and Socrates, divided head from heart, so to capture the full Hebrew meaning the Greek translators had to spell out "mind" as well.
The problem is that we, like all Hellenistic thinkers, make divisions God doesn't make. When He says "heart, soul, mind, and strength," He isn't giving us categories to work through one at a time — "I've got loving God with my heart down, now let me work on my soul." He's saying: love Me with your whole being, and love your neighbor wholly, the same way you love yourself. We even split it further now — left brain, right brain — but God simply wants us to love Him and others with our entire being. Every married man has had that conversation: "I'm just not sure you love me." "I really do — think of all the things I do for you." We divide it into categories. God says, love Me completely.
The Story
So how do you inject a new variable into a mind-centered lawyer? Jesus tells a story — perhaps the most famous He ever told. A man travels from Jerusalem to Jericho — two towns only seventeen miles apart, but separated by a 3,000-foot descent through rocky, desolate, cave-filled country notorious for robbers. A man being robbed on that road isn't newsworthy; it's a Tuesday. It would be newsworthy if it didn't happen.
First comes a priest — one who performs the sacrifices in the temple. He sees the man and passes by on the other side. Then a Levite — among the priests, the Levites were the teachers of the law. He looks, and he passes by on the other side. By now the scribe expects the hero to be a scribe like himself. Instead Jesus says: a certain Samaritan.
The Jews and Samaritans hated one another with a hatred we can hardly capture. Let me frame it for our day. A man fell among thieves, and Greg Laurie came and passed by on the other side — "No way, not Greg." Then John MacArthur looked and passed by — "That would never happen." And then Gavin Newsom came, and he was moved with compassion and tended to him — "Not him! Please, not him." That's the shock the lawyer felt.
Here's the amazing thing: the priest and Levite could show you legal reasons for their indifference. forbids a priest to defile himself for the dead, and says he who touches a dead body is unclean seven days. This man might be dead. "I know the letter of the law. I'm legally required not to get involved." They had the syntax and semantics figured out. But a certain Samaritan saw him and was moved with compassion.
The Law of Love
Point three: the law of love moves us to merciful compassion. I don't have to spend hours dividing heart, soul, mind, and strength, or working out exactly what "love your neighbor as yourself" requires. The law of love simply moves us to merciful compassion — and that looks like the Samaritan, who bandaged the wounds, poured in oil and wine, set the man on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and paid for his care.
Then Jesus levels the punch: "Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to him who fell among thieves?" He flips the script. The lawyer asked, "Who qualifies as my neighbor?" Jesus asks, "Who acted like a neighbor?" That's a huge difference. The answer is obvious, yet the lawyer can't bring himself to say "the Samaritan." He says, "He who showed mercy on him." And Jesus says, "Go and do likewise."
That's the application — but the frame is completely different. Here's the key: it isn't just about behavior. This is the problem with religion; it tends toward mere behavior modification. Do this, don't do that, check the boxes, and call yourself righteous. But Jesus doesn't hand us bullet points. He says, "This is what love looks like" — and it may look different in your context, for the person God puts in front of you to love. Now you have to sort that out.
Christ Transplants the Heart
It isn't just about behavior modification, right thinking, or right action. There's something more, and this is where Christ comes in. With enough effort you can change your thinking — a good cognitive behavioral therapist and some work can make a better you. You can change your actions; that's what every self-help book on Amazon is about. But you cannot change your heart. There is, however, Someone who can.
Point four: Christ transforms our heads by transplanting our hearts. That's the gospel. It was prophesied 500 years before Jesus by Ezekiel: "I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you; I will take the heart of stone out of your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. I will put My Spirit within you and cause you to walk in My statutes, and you will keep them" (). That is the promise of the gospel — and the good news I need every day.
Closing Prayer
God, thank You for Your word. It is living and powerful and sharper than any two-edged sword, and it challenges us at such deep levels. It reveals the thoughts and intents of my heart. It challenges me where I think I've done all the things — I followed the syntax and the semantics and the praxis, I checked all the boxes — and You say, "No, there's something more I want to deal with." God, would You deal with that in me, at the heart level? Help me understand that it's not just about the doing and the thinking and standing in the right place at the right time, but about the thing only You can do — transforming our hearts and changing us from the inside out, more and more into the image and likeness of Your children. Do that work, we pray. We ask it in Jesus' name, and all those who agreed said, Amen.
Amen. Praise the Lord. Thank you, Anthony and team. Good morning, Cross Connection. It's so good to see you all. You can have a seat this morning. I'm so glad you're here with us today.
It's kind of an interesting day. The weather doesn't quite know what it wants to do today; it's a little bipolar this morning in San Diego. But thank God for the rain. Amen.
I think many of you know that for nearly 20 years, I had the privilege of being a teacher at a local Bible college up in Marietta. From semester to semester, for, I think, 18 years total, I was privileged to teach classes on basic biblical doctrines, church planting, how to study the Bible, hermeneutics, and how to preach the Bible, homiletics. I taught classes on the books of Isaiah and Jeremiah, the Gospel of John, the book of Romans, and the Sermon on the Mount. I covered all kinds of different classes, and just about every single semester, there would be at least one student who, for lack of a better way of saying it, was the know-it-all student.
Almost every time, the know-it-all student would have he/him pronouns, shall we say; they were almost always guys. They were great guys, but they were the know-it-alls. They knew it all, and the thing about know-it-alls is that they want you to know that they know it all. They want everybody to know that they know it all. Frequently, especially in the early years of my teaching there, when there was really only a four or five-year age gap between me and them, they also wanted to see if they could let everyone know that they knew more than the instructor.
The know-it-all wants you to know that they know more than the guy who's supposed to know, who's up in front of the class. I have to be candid with you: I'm not a big fan of know-it-alls. I really appreciate and highly value what would be called epistemic humility. That's just a big way of saying that someone is humble about what they know and what they don't know, and they acknowledge and recognize that they might not know it all.
But the thing about know-it-alls is that they don't know that they don't know it all most of the time. Many years ago, Don Rumsfeld talked about the unknown unknowns. It's as if they don't realize that they have blind spots. That's the problem with blind spots; you don't know that you have one. However, the know-it-all would want you to believe that they know it all and would want everybody to know that they know it all.
One of the ways that know-it-alls sometimes try to tip their hand is by very publicly asking a question that they think they know the answer to. They want to ask the question so that everybody else thinks, "Oh, that's a really good question," and then people start to wonder if they know the answer. They ask the question to see if the instructor doesn't know the answer, hoping for that moment of validation.
We often pick on Peter in the Gospels. In the Gospel of Matthew, chapter 18, he asks one of those questions. He asks Jesus a question about forgiveness: "How many times, Jesus, should I forgive my brother who has sinned against me? Up to seven times?" He not only asks the question but also supplies a potential answer, which is quite significant.
This is a classic show-off baiting question because Peter provides the answer immediately when he asks, "Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me and I forgive him? Up to seven times?" (). You can tell that Peter is asking this question because he is trying to draw out of Jesus some approval, like, "Oh, Peter, seven times? That's pretty good."
Why would that be good? Well, because the rabbinical teaching in Jesus's day was that you only had to forgive someone up to three times. The fourth time, you're out. For some of us, that rabbinical teaching sounds appealing because there are people we encounter who test our patience, and we find ourselves hanging on that fourth time.
Just take one more step, and it's all over. You may wonder, where did they come up with this idea? The concept of three times, but the fourth time, you're out, actually comes from the Old Testament, specifically from the book of Amos. In the book of Amos, God is speaking judgment to a series of nations. He goes down the list of Moab, Ammon, and even Judah and Jerusalem, and He says, "Thus says the Lord: For three transgressions of Judah and for four, I will not turn away its punishment."
So there it is. God is gracious up to three times, but the fourth time, you're toast. It's as if God has a smite button hanging over it, ready to be pressed. Up to three times, for three transgressions and for four, He will not turn away the punishment because they have despised the law of the Lord and not kept His commandments. This is repeated several times in Amos, specifically in chapter 1, , 6, 9, 11, and 13. It just keeps going: "For three transgressions and for four, I will not turn away judgment."
When Peter asks, "Lord, how many times shall my brother sin against me and I forgive him? Up to seven times?" he is doubling the teaching of the day plus one. That seems pretty gracious, wouldn't you agree? Seven times seems adequate; it shows that he is being nice by saying he will forgive someone seven times. He likely expects Jesus to give him a pat on the back for this. However, Jesus does not respond that way. In , Jesus says to him, "I do not say to you up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven."
Now, there are some math magicians in the room who might calculate that as 490. They might think, "Alright, because some people are on 489 right now." But obviously, that's not what Jesus is saying. He is giving a very high number to illustrate that forgiveness extends and extends.
How many of you are grateful today that God is a forgiving God? He is not up there in heaven keeping a tally, like, "Okay, 475. Come on." That question from Peter is the know-it-all question. Today, we will meet another individual in the text who asks a know-it-all question as well. This occurs in one of the most well-known passages, one of the most well-known stories.
Maybe one of Jesus's most famous stories in the Bible comes from the Gospel of Luke, chapter 10. If you would take out your Bibles, and if you don't have one, you can raise your hand, and an usher will bring you one. We will also put it on the screen. Would you stand with me?
. Matthew, Mark, Luke—those are the Gospels. Chapter 10, we’re going to pick it up at . This will probably be a familiar story to many of you here today.
states, "And behold, a certain lawyer stood up and tested Jesus, saying, 'Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?' Jesus said to him, 'What is written in the law? What is your reading of it?' So he answered and said, '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.' Jesus said to the lawyer, 'You have answered rightly. Do this and you will live.'
But he, wanting to justify himself, said to Jesus, 'And who is my neighbor?' Then Jesus answered and said, 'A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and he fell among thieves who stripped him of his clothing, wounded him, and departed, leaving him half-dead. Now by chance, a certain priest came down that road, and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. Likewise, a Levite, when he arrived at the place, came and looked, and he passed by on the other side.
But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came to where he was, and when he saw him, he had compassion. So he went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring oil and wine. He set him on his own animal and brought him to an inn and took care of him. On the next day, when he departed, he took out two den
That's sanctifying work where you take Your Word, which is living and powerful and sharper than any two-edged sword, and You use it to reveal the thoughts and intents of our heart. Not so that we would be embarrassed or ashamed by it, but so that we might recognize what's really there. So that maybe we might confess it to You, knowing that You are faithful and just to forgive us because You're not keeping a tally. You forgive us and cleanse us of all unrighteousness. I pray that, in one small way, that would be the outcome of our time together this morning: that we would see maybe some ways in which there's something in our heart that isn't exactly in line with Your name and Your nature, and that it might be changed and transformed by Your forgiving grace. We ask this today in Jesus' name. And all those that agreed said, "Amen." You could be seated.
I don't know about you, but I love the story of the Good Samaritan. As I said, it is one of Jesus' most well-known, most famous stories. It has a lot of cultural weight for us living here in the Western world. In fact, we have laws named after the Good Samaritan story—the Good Samaritan laws. We have hospitals named after this story—the Good Samaritan hospitals. This story has cultural weight in our culture; it's kind of the ultimate symbol of kindness and goodness and niceness, if you will, and for good reason. It's a really good story.
But as with every single story in the Gospels, and really like with any story, the context in which this story is told is really important. You can't miss the context. In fact, I would suggest that if you miss the context in which this story is told, or the reason this story is told, then it leads to what this story has oftentimes led to in many churches, where it just becomes kind of like a moralistic plumb line—something to be used to kind of bludgeon people. Do you need to be more nice? You need to be more like the Samaritan. While that's certainly true, and we're going to see even Jesus' application of the story leans in that direction, if you miss the context, then you kind of miss the punch of what's going on here in this story. The weight of the story of the Good Samaritan is amplified when you understand the context in which the story was given. What is the context?
What's given to us right there in is significant. Behold, a certain lawyer stood up and tested Jesus, saying, "Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?" Don't miss that Jesus's story of the Good Samaritan is told because of this interaction.
A certain lawyer is mentioned, and there are at least four things to look at in that stand out here in this text. First, Luke informs us that a certain lawyer stood up. When we read that, we need to understand what a lawyer meant in the first century versus what a lawyer means today.
Today, in 2026, a lawyer is a legal representative. It's someone who went to law school, passed the bar, and practices law. They represent you when you're trying to work out a business deal, buy property, or deal with some sort of issue in court. You have a legal representative who knows the law and is able to find loopholes to make things work in your favor, rather than in favor of the person on the other side of the table.
That's not what a lawyer was in the first century. A lawyer in that time was more of a scholar, a person who truly understood and knew the law. When I say the law, I'm talking about the Pentateuch, the first five books of the Bible, the law of Moses. Some would call it the law of God, but Moses was the mediator of the law; he was the one who brought it down to the children of Israel.
A lawyer in the first century was also someone you might find referred to in the scriptures as a scribe. They knew the law so well because they spent all their time with the manuscripts. We, sitting here in 2026, are grateful for the Jewish lawyers of old because they did a very good job of copying down the scriptures. They would have one manuscript and follow it to the letter of the law to copy it down in another manuscript, creating duplicates that were very time-consuming and expensive.
So, the lawyers were the scholars, the scribes, and sometimes the teachers of the Torah. They were the ones who would explain what the law meant. They not only knew the syntax, the letter of the law, the jots and tittles of the law, but they also understood the semantics, the meaning. Quite literally, this is the expert; he is the PhD in the Pentateuch.
He's no casual reader of the Scriptures. He has spent years of his life not only reading but also memorizing and learning the text. This includes not just the text of Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, and Numbers, but also the rabbinical interpretations. For the two to three hundred years leading up to the time of Jesus, there was a time of great learning. This is where the idea of the shul, or synagogue, became a reality.
In the synagogues, there were people who became the rabbis, who knew and wrote commentary on the law, the Talmud. These were the ones who had documented those interpretations. Therefore, he would have known all of the intricacies of those teachings. When we read that a certain lawyer stands up, he is rising as the authority; he is an expert.
This brings up the second point worth noting in this text: he stood up and tested Jesus. Again, this is the expert, and Jesus is just a carpenter. For the lawyer in that day, that's basically what he was. Sure, he is a rabbi, as people were saying, but in reality, for the expert in the law, who probably was trained in Jerusalem, where the experts in the law sat, Jesus is just a carpenter from Galilee.
And Galilee, specifically Nazareth, raises questions. John asks, "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" It's an old joke. He is from Nazareth, and Galileans were known by their accent. We know what that's like. At the time that Jesus was being tried, Peter was there, and he was outed as a Galilean. People said, "Oh, his speech betrays him; he's with the Galileans."
Why did Peter's speech betray him? Because he had an accent. You all know what I'm talking about, right? There is a certain way in which, when someone has an accent, we ascribe a certain level of intelligence to them. Our hearts are wicked, and there are times when we hear someone with an accent and immediately think they are not as smart.
I have spent a lot of time in Europe, and I have met people with really thick accents who do not speak English well.
Very well, there’s the temptation, because my heart is evil, to think, "Well, they’re just not very smart." But in reality, they speak five languages, and I can hardly speak one. That’s one of the things we do. You probably never thought about this, but Jesus probably had an accent; His speech betrayed Him as a Galilean.
Here comes the expert, trained in all the wisdom and knowledge of the Rabbis in Jerusalem, and he has a question for the carpenter, the Galilean, the uneducated, untrained rabbi. Yes, you’re a rabbi, but listen, in the first century, to be a rabbi—a teacher, that’s what that word means—meant that you had studied under another rabbi, and the pedigree was important.
We have this today, too. I didn’t realize this so much until I got into the institution, but in the institution, this is the case. You tell someone that you have researched in doctoral studies at what school, and then you tell them what school, and they ask, "And who was your advisor?" Those things are important to people in that circle. The pedigree is important. The same was true 2,000 years ago for the rabbis.
In the book of Acts, this is revealed because Saul of Tarsus talks about his pedigree. He says, "I was trained under Gamaliel," which meant something to people because Gamaliel was one of the most learned rabbis in Jerusalem during the time of Christ. This man would have wanted to know, "Well, who’s this rabbi’s rabbi?"
Well, Jesus didn’t have a rabbi. He’s the rabbi without a rabbi, the itinerant minister from Nazareth. So, he stood and tested Him. This leads to the third thing: the lawyer calls Jesus "teacher," which in Hebrew would be "rabbi." This is translated in Greek as "didaskalos," which doesn’t really matter, but you kind of wonder—or at least I wonder—what was the tone in which he said it.
I assume a tone, and maybe I’m being rude to the lawyer, but come on, he’s a lawyer. Sorry to the lawyers in the room, but we pick on lawyers sometimes. So, I might be putting him in not the best light, but I just assume that when he said to Jesus, "Teacher," he was implying, "So, I hear that you’re a rabbi," coming from a guy who actually was a rabbi.
The fourth and final thing that's worthy of note in this passage is the discontinuity in the phrase of the question that he asks: "What shall I do to inherit eternal life?" Do you do anything to receive an inheritance? No, really, you don't. But this reveals something about the worldview and perspective of this lawyer.
I actually think this came out a couple of years ago. Many of you may know the name Dennis Prager. I deeply grieve for the things that he's gone through in the last year plus. He was injured very badly in a fall about a year and a half ago. However, two years ago, he was involved in a very public conversation with a group of public intellectuals and theologians led by a man named Jordan Peterson. In that context, they got into a discussion about theology. Remember, Dennis Prager is a Jewish man and he is an expert in the Pentateuch. He has been writing commentary on Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy. I think he has released four of his commentaries on those passages. I own them; they are very good from a certain perspective—a Jewish perspective.
During this conversation, they discussed pornography, and Dennis Prager got himself into a bit of hot water when he said, "I don't really think pornography is all that bad as long as you don't involve yourself in the physical act of physical adultery." Pretty much all the Christian theologians in the room were like, "Hold on, timeout!" But he said something interesting: "I'm Jewish, you're Christian. My faith is a behaviorist religion. We care about your activity. We care about your behavior. We're not so worried about the interiority of your heart."
Now, the most well-known Jewish rabbi in all of history is a guy named Jesus of Nazareth. He held a different view; he was concerned about the interiority of the heart. I think this lawyer is a lot like Dennis Prager in his view. It's about behavior: "What do I do to merit or to inherit eternal life?" But, of course, inheritance extends to a person not by the things that they do, but by the nature of who they are.
You see, for the Christian, religious practice, or praxis, behavior follows relational position. For this lawyer, your religious standing is...
Completely about your doing, what have you accomplished? So, what have you accomplished? This man asked Jesus a question: "What shall I do?" He's testing Jesus. He wants to see, "Are you really a good rabbi? Do you know the letters of the law? What shall I do to inherit eternal life?"
Jesus, like a good rabbi, answers a question with a question. I love it. Look at . Jesus said to him, "What is written in the law? What is your reading of it?" So, he answered and said, "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 love your neighbor as yourself."
Jesus said to him, "You have answered rightly. Do this and live." The lawyer was an expert in the law, and Jesus asks the expert, "What does the law say?" The expert is saying, "What shall I do to inherit eternal life?" Jesus responds, "You're an expert. What's the law say? How do you read it? What is your interpretation?"
It's a good place to start. What Jesus is doing here, as we will see as we go through this text, is drilling down into the things that matter. In doing so, He reveals something that I think is a really good model that we should at least tangentially take notice of.
Because if someone asked you tomorrow—let's say you're a Christian, and I'm assuming most of you are—what do I need to do to inherit eternal life? You're probably going to be triggered into evangelist mode. You might think, "What were those four spiritual laws? Let me tell you the four spiritual laws. Let me tell you the Romans Road. You all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God, and the wages of sin is death." You might be led into talking about those things.
Maybe you would say, "Let me tell you my testimony." You'd be grasping at all the evangelistic things that you learned. However, Jesus doesn't do that at all. This is an awesome opportunity. This guy is saying, "What do I have to do to inherit eternal life?" It's ripe for the picking right there, and He doesn't do what we think He might do at all.
Because listen, Jesus is not trying to make a sale; He's trying to make a disciple. So, He doesn't do what I might be tempted to do, which is to go into evangelist mode. Instead, Jesus says to him, "What does the law say? What's your reading of it?" The lawyer reveals his expertise in the law.
He immediately surfaces the essential core of the law that every Jewish child was taught from their earliest ages. Every Jewish lawyer would have known this one forward and backwards. It's called the Shema. It's in , where we read, "Oh Israel, the Lord our God is one Lord, and you shall love the Lord your God with all of your heart, with all of your soul, and with all of your strength."
This lawyer knows the law. Jesus asks, "What's your reading of it?" The lawyer responds, "Well, love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength," and he goes to , : "You shall love your neighbor as yourself." He starts with that vertical relationship of loving God and immediately goes to that horizontal relationship of loving others. He says this is what the law says.
Then Jesus's response is remarkable because it kind of stuns me. Jesus says, "You've answered rightly. That is the right answer from a Jewish perspective. Do this: love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, strength; love your neighbor as yourself. Do this and you shall live." That’s a remarkable answer. It’s remarkable because, for me, I am instantly stumbled by that.
Why am I stumbled by that? Because I don't think that you can earn or merit eternal life or righteous justification with God by your works. I established that in Scripture. says, "For by grace you are saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast." So, when Jesus says, "Do this and live," I go, "No, that doesn't seem right. That seems out of order with the Scripture."
So why would Jesus say to this man, "If you do those things, you will live"? Jesus's answer reveals an important truth. Again, he's drilling down into the heart of the matter here with his inquisitor, with his questioner.
Point number one, if you're taking notes: the law demands perfect love. That's what it means when it says to love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and strength, and to love your neighbor as yourself. This is perfect love. The law demands something that I cannot do. You see, if you try to do this, if the lawyer went out and endeavored to do what Jesus tells him to do...
He would soon discover that he can't do what the law demands and commands. This is what Paul tells us in Romans: by the law is the knowledge of sin. I realize when I try to keep the law that I fail at keeping it, and I'm always condemned by the law. So, Jesus is leading this man to that discovery—that the law demands something I can't accomplish; it demands perfect love. Jesus is trying to move this lawyer from his head to his heart.
The lawyer knew how to love with his mind; that wasn't the issue. The next part of the story reveals that because he couldn't stop there. Remember, he's testing Jesus. Jesus says, "Well, what's your reading of the law? How do you interpret it?" The lawyer responds, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and strength. Love your neighbor as yourself."
Okay, great! Do this and live. The conversation could have stopped right there, and the lawyer could have been like, "All right, good answer. He knows the law, I guess," but he can't do that. Why? Because he's testing Jesus.
Look at what the text says; this is so important. Maybe underline these next four words: wanting to justify himself. See, that's what the law and religion do. They want to justify themselves. "I did all the things, all the points. There were bullet points, and I did them," or maybe there were checkboxes, and I checked them. He said, "Do this and live." I did all those things right!
But he, wanting to justify himself, seeks clarification. He's a good lawyer; lawyers look for loopholes. So, here's this loophole: "Who is my neighbor?" There it is! Jesus is getting to the heart of the matter because, like the Counting Crows said 30 years ago, it's the heart that matters.
Point number two: the heart seeks self-justification. It's always what it does. I'm not pointing a critical finger at the lawyer because this is my heart too, and your heart as well. I would suggest to you, and I think if you just did a little quick examination...
Seventy-five percent of marital fights have everything to do with self-justification. Marital fights often stem from the desire to justify oneself. The heart seeks self-justification.
The lawyer knew the heady aspects of the law; he could quote it to you and tell you what it says. He understood the syntax, the words, and the order of the words. That's what syntax is—the jots and the tittles. He knew all the smallest marks of it. He wanted to know the interpretation, the semantics. So, the rabbi from Galilee, Nazareth, asked, "Who's my neighbor? Give me the clarifying meaning." For the lawyer, the words, the order of the words, the syntax, and the semantics—what those words mean or are interpreted—lead to the practice, the actions. Syntax, semantics, praxis.
For Jesus, there's one other piece to the puzzle. It's not just what the words say, not just what the words mean, and not just how you work those things out. There is something more that Jesus is going to inject into this. I thought a lot about this this week. What is the thing that He is injecting here? The only word I could come up with is "sentiment." There is something of sentiment here that moves from the just logical in the head down into the heart. This is a hard move for us, and I suggest it is a hard move for this lawyer in this passage.
The semantics, the meaning of the text, inform something of heart sentiment that should lead to a different kind of action, a different kind of praxis. There is a new variable that Jesus is throwing into the mix here with this guy. Part of it comes out in the language of the text, which is really easy to skip over.
If you read the Shema in , the most famous passage for Jewish individuals, it says, "Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God is one Lord. And you shall love the Lord with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength." However, in the New Testament, when it is quoted here and also quoted by Jesus, there is a new variable added. Did you notice what it said? The lawyer said, "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and your strength." You might wonder, why the addition? Why does it seem like there has been an addition to the Hebrew of ?
When this lawyer and Jesus in the New Testament quote that passage, there is a reason for it. About 300 years before Christ, in the 3rd century BC, a group of translators translated the Hebrew Scriptures into Greek. This translation is called the Septuagint. When the Hebrew translators translated the Shema, "Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God is one Lord. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and strength," they rendered it as, "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength."
Why did they do that? There is a difference between Hebrews and Hellenists, or Greeks. The Hebrews do not make a distinction or division between the intellect and the emotion within the soul of who you are. For the Hebrew mind, the intellect and the emotion are one and the same. So when they say, "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength," that encompasses both mind and heart.
In contrast, the Hellenistic world, which influences us in the West, made a division between the head and the heart, between the emotional part and the intellect. Thinkers like Aristotle and Socrates contributed to this separation. To capture the full meaning of the Hebrew text, the Greek translators had to clarify that they were talking about the mind and the heart as well. Thus, they translated it as, "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength."
This lawyer is quoting from that Hellenistic worldview; he is referencing the Septuagint when he says this. The challenge, however, is that we, like many Hellenistic-thinking people, make numerous divisions between these concepts that God does not necessarily make in the Scriptures. We often think that the distinctions and divisions matter more than they actually do.
When God says to love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength, or simply to love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and strength, He does not want us to categorize these into separate lists. We should not think, "I am loving God with my heart, and now I need to work on loving God with my soul." No, when He says heart, soul, and strength, He is talking about the whole person. We are to love God with all of our being and love our neighbor in the same way.
The same way that you would love yourself, God does not want us to divide our love into different categories. However, that's where our minds tend to go. Fast forward 2,000 years, and here in the Western world, we have separated it even more. We now say "left brain" and "right brain," and we think these distinctions are really important. But for God, He is simply saying, "I want you to love Me and love others with your entire being."
We all wrestle with this. We've all had that conversation, guys, where your wife says, almost in tears, "I'm just not sure that you love me," and you respond, "I really do! Think of all the things I do for you." We tend to divide those things out. I've had that conversation myself. My wife is sitting right there, smiling right now. I know it, but I'm not even going to look at her; I'll look over here instead.
God says He wants us to love Him wholly and completely, and to love others wholly and completely. He injects a new variable into this mind-centered approach. But how do you introduce a new variable to a know-it-all? Well, Jesus is an expert at this. He tells a story—perhaps the most famous story He ever told.
Jesus answered and said, "A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and he fell among thieves who stripped him of his clothing, wounded him, and departed, leaving him half-dead. Now by chance, a certain priest came down the road, and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. Likewise, a Levite, when he arrived at the place, came and looked, and then he passed by on the other side. But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came to where the man was; and when he saw him, he had compassion. He went to him, bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine; and he set him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him.
On the next day, when he departed, he took out two den
You kindly help him to see that he may not know it all. Jesus's story is perfectly calibrated for this. It is visual persuasion at its finest; you can see this happening. He talks about a man coming from Jerusalem to Jericho, two towns separated only by about 17 miles but separated by a 3,000-foot elevation descent from Jerusalem to Jericho.
This well-traveled highway in the ancient world is still in a very rocky and desolate area. The mountains going up to Jerusalem are filled with all kinds of caves, and because of its proximity and relationship to nothing, it was oftentimes filled not just with caves but with crooks who would frequently rob people. The idea of a man being robbed on the highway between Jerusalem and Jericho is not newsworthy; that's like a Tuesday. It's newsworthy if it didn't happen.
So, Jesus tells a story about a man who is robbed and left for dead. Then a Levite, who traveled this road frequently, comes by. Why? Because they were going to Jerusalem to perform their duties. Actually, the first to show up is the priest. The priests were the ones who did the sacrifices in the temple. They know the Jewish faith, they know religion, and they perform the sacrifices. He comes, sees this man, and passes by.
Then the Levite, also engaged in the work of the temple, shows up. Among the priests, the Levites were the teachers of the law. If you went to Jerusalem to offer a sacrifice, you would probably sit and listen to a Levite share with you the importance of the law. The Levite shows up, looks at the situation, and passes by as well.
Then Jesus gets to the third person in the story. Because he's talking with the scribe, you would think at this point the scribe is thinking, "Oh, he's going to say a scribe." The hero in the story is going to be me. Yes, but Jesus says, "And then a certain Samaritan."
All the Jews and the Samaritans hated one another with a hatred that we just can't capture. I was thinking this week about how to frame this so that we get it. I came up with an idea that I think will work: a man fell among thieves.
Came and passed by on the other side. Like, come on, no way, not Greg! Then John MacArthur came, and he looked and passed by on the other side. You're like, come on, no way that would ever happen. And then Gavin Newsom— I knew it! I knew it would get you. Gavin Newsom came, and he was moved with compassion, and he tended to him. And you're going, not Gavin! No, please, not him.
Here's the amazing thing: the priest and the Levite could show you legal reasons for their indifference. Let me read it to you. , says, "The Lord said to Moses, 'Speak to the priests, the sons of Aaron, the Levites, and say to them, None shall defile himself for the dead among his people, except for his relatives.'" So the question, "Who is my neighbor?" becomes really important. Who should I, and should I not, potentially make myself unclean to help them?
states, "He who touches a dead body of anyone shall be unclean seven days." This guy might be dead; I can't possibly touch him. I would be unclean. I'm a priest. I'm a Levite. I can't. I'm legally required to not get involved because I know the letter of the law. I know the semantics and the syntax; I got it all figured out.
But a certain Samaritan, the hated half-breeds, came, and when he saw him, he was moved with compassion. Point number three: the law of love moves us to merciful compassion. You see, it's not about the division between heart, soul, mind, and strength. I don't have to spend hours trying to figure out what Jesus means when he says, "Love your neighbor as yourself." Do I need to get a glove for myself first? I don't need to work out any of that stuff. The law of love moves us to merciful compassion.
Compassion—what does that look like? It looks like the Samaritan. Jesus injects sentiment into the syntax, semantics, and praxis. He adds a new layer and then levels the punch.
So, which of these three do you think was a neighbor to him who fell among thieves? He flips the script. The lawyer asked who qualifies as my neighbor, and Jesus asked who acted like a neighbor. Oh man, that's a huge difference. The answer is obvious, but the Jewish lawyer from 2,000 years ago can't even bring himself to say it was the Samaritan. Instead, he says, "He who showed mercy on him." Then Jesus said, "Go and do likewise." Wow, that's the application.
But the frame of the application is completely different. The calculating mind of the lawyer now has to sit with Jesus's story and the twin commands: go and do likewise. Here's the challenge; here's the key: it isn't just about behavior. This is one of the problems with religion. Religion tends toward mere behavior modification. If I do this and this and this, and don't do this and this and this, then I'm righteous. We check off the boxes. Just give me the bullet points, and I'll do, do, do, do, do.
But Jesus doesn't give me the bullet points. He says, "Well, this is what love looks like." It might look different in your context, and it might look different for the person that God has put in front of you to love. Now it's like, wow, I have to sort that out. It isn't just about behavior modification. It isn't just about right thinking or right action. There's something more to it, and this is where Christ comes in. You see, with enough effort...
You can change your thinking. A good cognitive behavioral therapist and a little bit of work can help you make yourself a better you. You change your thinking, and you can change your actions. That's what every self-help book on Amazon is all about. There are tons of them. But you can't change your heart.
But guess what? There's someone who can. Point number four: Christ transforms our heads by transplanting our hearts. That's what the gospel is all about. It was prophesied 500 years before Jesus came by the prophet Ezekiel. God spoke, "I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you." says, "I will take the heart of stone out of your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. I will put my spirit within you and cause you to walk in my statutes, and you will keep my judgments and do them." That's the promise of the gospel, and that's the good news that I need every day.
Would you stand with me as I close in prayer? God, thank you for your word. It is living and powerful and sharper than any two-edged sword. It challenges us at such deep levels. God, it reveals the thoughts and intents of my heart. It challenges me where I think that I've done the things, I've followed the syntax and the semantics and the praxis. I did all the things, and you say no. There's something more that I want to deal with.
God, would you deal with that in me at my heart level? Help me to understand that it's not just about the doing, the thinking, and being in the right place at the right time. It's about the thing that only you can do: transforming our hearts and transforming us from the inside out, more and more into the image and likeness of your children. Do that work, we pray. We ask it in Jesus' name, and all those that agreed said.
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