The Parable of the [Bad Christians]

A reflection on the Good Samaritan, and how non-Christians often act more Christian than Christians.

Pizza, Peppers, And Parables

I hate peppers on pizza, and I am the type of guy that would hand-pick them off (I know, I’m getting vulnerable here). The idea of crying and getting the sniffles while eating pizza isn’t exactly my idea of enjoyment; so, I do what any normal person does, and I remove them.

I think we all have the knack to not only do this with pizza or [insert food of choice here], but we often do this with really anything that makes us uncomfortable, including the teachings of Jesus, where we unknowingly (or knowingly) remove some of the things that sting us or make us uncomfortable.

Speaking of uncomfortable, the Parable of the Good Samaritan is one of the most revolutionary teachings of Jesus’ ministry as it details how the “insider” is often wrong and why the “outsider” can be better suited to model God’s love to the world. Because of this challenge, the church has often baptized and sanitized and “picked-the-peppers-off-of” this teaching to the point where we’ve stripped it of its sting and its message for the church.

In reflecting on this passage, I propose four observations that can help us recalibrate ourselves to the radical ways of Jesus and recapture the “sting” of this parable.

Get your water, here come the peppers.

#1 – Christians often “theologize” their way out of loving their neighbor.

Like a kid trying to explain why they didn’t clean their room, or like an adult who is trying to avoid yet another party (introverted millennials, you are seen), Christians can often use theology as a means to avoid practicing the second greatest commandment – to “love thy neighbor.” (Matthew 22:36-40).

We only have this parable in our hands because an expert in the religious law asked a particular question and was trying to “theologize” his way out of loving his neighbor. Instead of asking, “how can I love my neighbor?” or “where do I start?” he asked, “and who is my neighbor?” (Luke 10:29). Implicit in this very question is the second question, “who isn’t my neighbor?” Or in other words, “how far do I have to go?”, or “how inclusive ought this love be?”, or “where can loving my neighbor find its limits?” All wrong questions by the way.

In response, Jesus then shares a story… about other religious folks theologizing their way out of loving their neighbor:

In walks a priest and a Levite who pass by a man who was robbed, beaten, and left for dead on the side of the road. Given the option to care for the man or walk away, they cross to the other side of the road, and walk away. Why would they do this, especially with their being familiar of the second greatest commandment to love your neighbor? Perhaps there were pragmatic reasons – they had to get home, or they didn’t want to fall suspect to violence themselves (oh how we love our safety and security for ourselves). However, it was also very likely that they were observing their own religious purity laws which prohibited them from coming into contact with a dead body (see Leviticus 21, 22, and Numbers 19). So, they opt not to help this dying guy, because what if he dies in their presence? That’d be a violation of their purity laws. So instead, they crossed the street just to be safe and kept on their way.

These religious leaders used their religion (purity laws) to avoid obedience to their religion (the second greatest commandment to “love thy neighbor”). Do we see the conundrum here?

How often does the church do this today, where we use our religion to excuse ourselves from actually obeying Jesus and His command to love our neighbors? Where we avoid proximity to the “outsider” in fear that we’re violating our own religious statutes. How have we neglected and avoided many image bearers in an effort to maintain our hollow religious piety - including our LGBTQ, immigrant, incarcerated, and homeless communities? Pastor Ian Simkins highlights how it is that we can balance our theological convictions without sacrificing our second largest theological mandate on the altar:

“Love isn't contingent on agreement. It isn't reserved for those who think, vote, or live like we do. Love, real love, is a choice. A posture. A way of being in the world.

At the same time, Jesus never compromised truth. He called people to repentance-not to shame them, but to free them. He told the woman caught in adultery, “Neither do I condemn you... go and sin no more"(John 8:11). His love was never an excuse for sin, but it was always the starting place for transformation.

What if our first instinct wasn't critique but compassion? What if our love for others was so profound that our opinions took a backseat, not because truth doesn't matter, but because love is the way truth is best received? May our love be louder than our opinions. May our words carry both truth and tenderness. And may we reflect Jesus—not just in what we believe, but in how we love.”

Our piety is never to be a means by which we “get out” of loving our neighbors. Rather, our faith is to be means by which we radically, indiscriminately, and recklessly throw the doors open wide to offer love and compassion to any and all – after all, is this not what Jesus did for us?

#2 – Irreligious individuals can model God’s love way better than religious individuals can.

Oof. Read that again.

Do it again, but this time let’s throw our name in there and read it three times: “Irreligious individuals can model God’s love way better than [insert name here] can.”

I don’t know about you, but I’m having a blast with this exercise (no I’m not).

This teaching is a poignant example of how 1. God can, and often does, use “outsiders” to bring about His love and mercy and 2. oftentimes the “outsiders” can be better at representing Jesus than Jesus followers (including you and I).

Think about it, this parable was going fine for the expert in the law until Jesus brought the Samaritan into the picture. Samaritans were absolutely loathed and rejected by the Jews - they counted Samaritans as irreligious bigots, unclean, and “other” in the worst of ways (the feelings were mutual). Yet, it’s in this parable that the Samaritan is characterized as the hero who did the work of God via his love of the dying man, while the religious rulers were ruled in the wrong as they abandoned their responsibility. Jesus makes the “wrong guy” the right example!

If God did this with people back then, there’s no doubt He does this today – where folks that the church would deem as “outsiders” or “in-the-wrong” actually model the love of Jesus and the tenants of the faith better than the “insiders” do. This includes our atheistic neighbors, those exploring different faith traditions, those who hold different political views (not that the Christian faith belongs to any party, because it doesn’t), and those who have lifestyles that the evangelical church would by and large write off. This would include folks who are purveyors of justice and righteousness (Amos 5:21-24). Those who embody compassion and mercy towards all of their neighbors (Matthew 5:7, Luke 6:36). Those who embody the fruit of the spirit (Galatians 5:22-23).

This may be difficult for some to stomach. Our reflex, like the teacher of the law, may be to get so mad that we can’t even mention these other individuals by name. We ought to respond in a different way.

• We ought to be so enthused that people model this (even if these same image-bearers don’t hold the same theological convictions or framework as you do).

• Alternatively, we ought to get righteously angry when folks claim the name of Jesus but seldom (if ever) model the radical inclusive mercy, compassion, and unconditional love of Jesus. Is that not what provoked this parable in the first place?

• We ought not think so little of God to believe that He only uses self-professed Christians. If God can use someone as flawed and selfish as me, why would I ever think that He can’t use someone else? Let’s not put God in a box of our own making – what a small God that would be.

After all – Jesus did say you’ll know them not by their beliefs, their convictions, what church they attend, their piety, or their theology^[1] – but you will know Christians by their fruit (Matthew 7:16). You will know Christians by their love (John 13:35). I suspect this is why Jesus concludes this parable with “go and do likewise” and not “go and believe likewise.” (Luke 10:37)

#3 – Love is always costly [yes, this should be a no brainer]

Now I wish this third point didn’t need to be said yet in our increasingly transactional, individualized, receipts-keeping culture, we forget that love is very vulnerable and costly. We’re conditioned to cheapen and make convenient the commodity of love; therefore, we only enjoy it and practice it when it is easy (which it seldom is).

Additionally, I’ve observed in many evangelical circles that Christian love has sort of been reduced to this practice of “telling people the truth (typically about their sin) in love” without actually caring for one’s needs, one’s wounds, having embodied conversations, and listening to the chaos of each other’s souls. There’s seldom any cost, any vulnerability, any confession, and any service or charity towards the other (especially if that “other” is the “outsider”) in this expression of “Christian love”. I suspect this is why the widely used phrase, “there’s no hate like Christian love” has been increasingly popular in the culture in recent years; and can we blame them?

This teaching, amongst many others, reminds us that love is incredibly costly:

Love will cost us our moral superiority.

Notice, per the text there is zero indication that the Samaritan had a conversation with this man who was suffering. He didn’t screen him, he didn’t inquire about his theology, he didn’t ask for a W-2, he didn’t ask for immigration papers, nor did he inquire about his gender or sexual orientation. Rather he saw him, had compassion (which means “to suffer with”), and he immediately started caring for his needs.

Love is most effective when it is product of our humility – our recognition that we are also in just-as-much need for compassion and grace as anyone we come across. Once we recognize that, we’re much more apt to distribute that same grace and mercy we’ve received without screening folks (because fortunately, God doesn’t screen us).

I thoroughly enjoy how monk and writer, Thomas Merton, puts it: “Our job is to love others without stopping to inquire whether or not they are worthy.” Didn’t Jesus do that for us?

We can’t love effectively from a place of moral superiority.

Love will cost us our resources.

This one is the more outward and obvious cost. Love for others will often cost us our time, energy, finances, talents, gifts, and bandwidth (almost all of which were modeled by the Samaritan).

The parable even offered further details for the financial cost (and boy was it costly). We’re not talking about $5 dollars here, and $30 dollars there. This Samaritan paid two denarii, which was approximately two days wages… for a man he didn’t know.

Love will often cost us more than what is convenient.

Love will cost us our safety and security.

Ah, but I love my safety Christian (yeah, me too). Yet, love is often a vulnerable act that will open us up to risk of some kind. To love means we’re putting part of ourselves on the line. We’re becoming vulnerable to the possibility of pain, rejection, discomfort, and (in some cases) death. You can find a beautiful example of that last one modeled by a Jewish rabbi right here.

When the Samaritan picked up this man (who, tradition holds, was presumably a Jew), he was putting himself in immense risk. Firstly, he subjected himself to the same fate as this man as he prolonged his stay on the same road where this man was first beaten. Secondly, imagine this Samaritan riding around with a half-dead Jew on the back of his donkey! The optics of this would be quite risky as I’m sure folks would have presumed that this Samaritan had afflicted this damage to this suffering man.

Love will often cost us. Let’s not cheapen it.

#4 – Love is specific

Church folks today often agree with the experts in the law here that we ought to “love our neighbor.” Of course, we can all agree that this is central, however there’s a problem: We always say, “God loves everyone”, yet are guilty of being just ambiguous enough where we, like the expert in the law, exclude people and think we’re doing a good job.

Remember, the rub in this parable comes only when Jesus gets specific as to who our neighbor is. Jesus didn’t have to select the Samaritan for this teaching, yet He does (regardless of the disdain the expert of the law would have had). It was a radical move, and that’s the point. Jesus gets specific, and we too should get specific when identifying our neighbor - when identifying those individuals that the evangelical church has written off as unworthy of God’s love (and subsequently our love).

The Tale of a Very Specific Sweater

My favorite article of clothing is this sweater which was purchased from a pretty rad non-profit from Puerto Rico called The Happy Givers. This sweater gets specific when considering the answer to the question, “who is my neighbor?”. It’s intended to challenge the church for where we’ve been far too ambiguous. The sweater reads:

- Love thy neighbor.

- Thy immigrant neighbor [I might add, documented or undocumented]

- Thy black neighbor

- Thy atheist neighbor

- Thy Muslim neighbor

- Thy depressed neighbor

- Thy Asian neighbor

- Thy LGBTQIA neighbor

- Thy disabled neighbor

- Thy indigenous neighbor

- Thy Jewish neighbor

- Thy political neighbor

- Thy elderly neighbor

- Thy homeless neighbor

- Thy Latino neighbor

- Thy addicted neighbor

- Thy Palestinian neighbor

- Thy [insert category here] neighbor

In answering the question, “who is my neighbor” Jesus’ teaching indicates that there is absolutely no boundary or restriction or limitation (regardless of what our politics, our opinions, or our news channels of preference tell us). The people we come across aren’t enemies or others to be feared or hated (even if a politician tells you that), but rather, each one is an image bearer of God that is to be loved. Everyone is our neighbor, and we are to love them as we would love ourselves. Or more specifically:

• As we are concerned for our safety and wellbeing, we ought to be concerned for the safety and wellbeing of others.

• As we are concerned for our own rights and liberties, we ought to be concerned for the rights and liberties of others.

• As we are concerned for our own dignity and respect, we ought to be concerned for the dignity and respect of others.

• As we are concerned for our own salvation, we ought to be concerned for the salvation of others.

Love is specific, may we too be specific.

There’s No Love Like Christian Hate [Christian Love]

We still carry much of the priest and the Levite within us today - we abandon the vulnerable and the marginalized in the name of religion. In doing so, we abandon Jesus too.

Instead, we need to recenter the movement of the church on this idea that we claim to believe: that there’s nothing as sacrificial, merciful, compassionate, and inclusive as the love of God. We ought to then embody this love especially to those that the evangelical church has historically excluded. When we find that those outside the church are “out-performing” those inside the church in this department, we aren’t to be scandalized like the expert in the law. Rather, we ought to be deeply humbled.

Let’s take some notes from the Samaritan. Let’s rewrite the narrative and actually embody a love to the world that reflects the love of Jesus – a love that is increasingly oriented towards the other regardless of the costs, the risks, or who they are.

In other words, may we “Go and do likewise.”

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Extra Notes & Resources

Quick Note:

This reflection is an adaptation of a sermon I previously gave on the same passage. You can find that full teaching here.

TLDR (“Too Long, Didn’t Read” notes):

The Parable of the Good Samaritan, one of Jesus’ most revolutionary parables, is a difficult critique towards religious people who claim to believe the ways of Yahweh but fail to practice them (rendering belief inauthentic). Therefore, Jesus uses an “outsider” to model to “insiders” how to better model God’s love to a world that desperately needs it. It’s a teaching that stings, and that’s the point. There’s four observations to consider as we seek to continue to put our faith into practice in ways that reflect Jesus:

#1 – Christians often “theologize” their way out of loving their neighbor.

#2 – The irreligious can model God’s love way better than religious people can.

#3 – Love is always costly.

#4 – Love is specific.

Instead of retreating in self-preservation, may we welcome these critiques (and the grace that comes with them) as we seek to better embody to all of our neighbors the love that Jesus has shown us.

Let’s Keep the Conversation Going:

I think learning is best done in community and conversation (and God knows I have so much learning to do). Therefore, I’d love to hear from you; what questions, disagreements, or thoughts would you like to add to the dialogue? Feel free to leave a comment below or private message me.

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^[1] It’s not that our theological convictions aren’t important. Rather, the point here is that our beliefs are validated or invalidated by how it is that we live and love our neighbors. In other words, how people live often says way more about their theology than what they claim to believe.

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