Was it only two weeks since we put aside the story of the Good Samaritan, the visit of the lawyer and Jesus? In the interim we have had shopping, lists, family, decorations, lists, guests, presents, feasts, lists, and — oh yes – Christmas and New Years. Time to return to the Good Samaritan and the path to the radiance of God.

The lawyer visited Jesus to test him. He was, after all, a learned teacher of Judaism. He sought out Jesus, the new and charismatic rabbi. He began with a blunt question, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” What Jesus heard him ask was, “What are the requirements for getting into God’s kingdom. I want to make sure I am on the right path.”

Jesus recognized the sincerity and integrity of a genuine seeker.  Jesus honored him by showing respect and understanding. This attention, in turn, drew out the lawyer with another question: “Who is my neighbor?”  He was looking for affirmation about his faith, in particular his moral responsibility. If “my neighbor” was narrowly defined as family and friends within the covenant community, then his rules would be accepted and his faith endorsed.

Jesus recognized what lay behind the question. The lawyer would lower the bar for an easy entrance to the kingdom. His narrow faith made it imperative to hold out for a reduced grace.  A narrowly defined neighbor yields a narrowly viewed kingdom; a diminished faith before a diminished God.

The lawyer found safe ground there. Diminished, to be sure, but the territory beyond troubled him.  Outside his safe zone he detected a fog, a fog that was inhabited by God.  He wasn’t sure what he would find of God but not knowing made him fearful and reluctant.  Affirmation from Jesus would mean no need to venture further into the personality of God.

At this point we must pause and let others enter the scene. Haven’t we all been in negotiation with the Lord on similar grounds? He knows the fear that grips many who shy away from the fog. Some, like the lawyer, hope that a long list of good works make a good impression, good enough to go no further. Others looked into the fog and, to great disappointment, found no voice therein, no help, no beckoning. These have left the scene altogether. Some are convinced that God is the ultimate and over-bearing judge. That fog holds the frown, the disapproval, the rejection on them. They stay clear.  Others domesticate the fog by inserting their own construct of God, as if to say, “My God wouldn’t do that…,” as if that will alter the face of God.

It can be a daunting thing to move into the presence of the Almighty… unless we remember the open and friendly tenor between Jesus and the inquirer. He shows the same attention to us all; he invites us to seek him; he promises to listen and honor our queries; above all he is eager to show us his Father’s love.  He knows our difficulties and hesitations of drawing near. Indeed, we get lost in our search. The surprising discovery is that he finds us, and generously rewards us with the expanding riches of his love.

To the lawyer and to all of us, he says, “Follow me into the story of the Good Samaritan.”

We miss the point of the story if we only see an example to tend the down and out. The story revolves around the man in the ditch – who he is and what he needs. The lawyer asks, “And who is my neighbor?” The answer is not a name or a category. The description of the man in the ditch is deliberately vague, even universal. He is described as beaten up, ignored, stripped, nearly dead, very messy. Significantly, he is without definition of race, location, accent, political persuasion. He fits none of the above and he fits them all.

Similarly, the story does not tell us what sort of help he needs, but we get hints when we hear the man in the ditch cry, “Does anybody hear me? Can someone come and give me compassion. I know I am bloody and messy. Will you all pass by on the other side? Won’t you see me and stop?”

This is the answer Jesus wanted the lawyer to understand – not to put the man in the ditch on a list, but to hear his need for mercy. Jesus knew the lawyer was missing mercy, and missing mercy in both directions. He had no experience of mercy and therefore couldn’t extend mercy.

When Jesus speaks of the reward of seeking him, mercy is that reward. It is found on the other side of the fog, with God as its source and God as its giver. But the experience of mercy is not contractual, not given in exchange for anything. That is usually the way we deal with Christmas presents – we make sure we have gifts for those who give gifts to us. Not so with seeing the radiance of God. Nothing we can do will bring a obligation or reciprocation from God. That leaves mercy as an undeserved gift from God. That is grace.

The other day I was waiting with a friend who was receiving a transfusion. I realized the similarity of his experience to this. Transfusion was blood given from a donor to bring renewed life to the patient. The cross is the blood of Jesus given to all who seek him. His blood brings to us forgiveness with a tender heart, adoption with assurance as his children forever. This is the answer Jesus wants for the lawyer and all like him – not a list but a heart of love, not a diminished God but the full radiance of his Son.

Tad de Bordenave