the Greatest

The Pharisees end up hearing that Jesus has, in fact, silenced the Sadducees with his teaching. In the gospel of Matthew, a teacher of the Law approaches Jesus to ask him about the greatest commandments. The way it reads in Matthew, it sounds as if the Pharisees are perplexed that Jesus was able to stump the Sadducees and wanted to do some follow-up. The question — “Which is the greatest commandment?” — is one that is very common in Jesus’s Jewish world. It is essentially asking the teacher what his interpretive lens is. What is his hermeneutical filter? How does he interpret the Scriptures?

“Great” commandments were really a statement about what the Jews called “weight.” Some laws carried more weight than others. If we can determine what the “weightiest” commandments are, it will help us know how to read our Text. For instance, Rahab has a dilemma when the men of Jericho come looking for the spies. In such an instance, she is going to break a law. She is either not going to protect the foreigner and allow them to be murdered, or she is going to lie. The question is one of weight. If she chooses correctly, she ends up fulfilling the law; if she chooses incorrectly, she abolishes it. Rahab chooses — intuitively, I might add (she is a pagan prostitute, after all) — that protecting the foreigner carries more weight than abstaining from lies. She decides correctly and ends up in the “Hall of Faith” (Hebrews 11).

In Jesus’s day, there were two dominant “yokes” or sets of interpretation that were held. They came from the schools of Shammai and Hillel. Shammai declared the two greatest commandments were “love God with all your heart and all your soul and all your might” and “obey the Sabbath.” This made Shammai’s yoke centered on obedience. Obedience is the weightiest call in each situation. But Hillel said it was “love God…” and “love your neighbor as yourself,” making the weightiest call the call to love.

Jesus agrees with Hillel.

In Matthew, this appears to answer the question and they move on. But in Luke, this question sees a little more treatment. I personally believe we are not dealing with parallel stories in this instance, but we are dealing with the same question. Again, this is one of the most common questions a rabbi would be asked in Jesus’s world, so we would expect multiple interactions. In Luke, the questioner asks Jesus about the greatest commandment and receives the same answer.

And behold, a lawyer stood up to put him to the test, saying, “Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?” He said to him, “What is written in the Law? How do you read it?” And he answered, “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.” And he said to him, “You have answered correctly; do this, and you will live.”

But he, desiring to justify himself, said to Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

Desiring to justify himself? What is that all about?

Jesus, like a brilliant rabbi, has just turned the entire situation back around onto the person asking the question. Since the man is a lawyer (a person who studies the Law), Jesus asks him what his yoke is. The man replies and Jesus agrees. The whole situation would be slightly humorous to those listening in on the conversation. So in order to justify himself, he asks about the neighbor.

And justify himself, he does. Because the debate surrounding “who is my neighbor” was a fierce one. He asks a doozy of a question.

But Jesus’s response is even better. I have had more than one teacher tell me that Jesus’s parable surrounding the Good Samaritan is one of the most brilliant parables told in Jewish history. So in order to understand Jesus’s teaching, we have to set the stage.

P’SHAT

Rabbis of the first century liked to tell parables with a common template. Doing so allowed them to keep some of the variables constant for the hearers and allow them to wrestle with the content of the parable with less confusion (or should we say, it allowed them to put the confusion where they wanted it to be). One of the most common templates we have in written record is the template of the Priest, the Levite, and the Pharisee. Whatever the content of the parable was, the characters were always the same, and each played the same role.

The priest would do it wrong. The Levite would also do it wrong. But the Pharisee would do it right.

In response to the neighbor question, Jesus begins a parable following this typical template. A man is beat up and needs help. The priest refuses and the Levite refuses. (It should be noted that they have good reasons to refuse: they are trying to be obedient to their role as priests who need to stay clean — but they are using the yoke.) At this point in the conversation, everybody knows who is coming next to save the day — the Pharisee.

But Jesus changes the story. “Along came a Samaritan…”

And you could have heard a pin drop.

What we also don’t understand is the background to the “who is my neighbor” debate.

“Shammai! Who is my neighbor?” 

He would have responded, “Your fellow Jew.”

“Do I have to love the Roman?”

“No, you do not; they are our enemy.”

“Hillel! Who is my neighbor?”

“Your fellow Jew.”

“Do I have to love the Roman?”

“Yes, they are your neighbor as well.”

“Do I have to love a Samaritan?”

“Of course not! Nobody should love a Samaritan!”

In Jesus’s story, he pushes the envelope far beyond what any listener would have been comfortable with. Jesus is clearly stating that even Hillel doesn’t go far enough with his love! Not only this, but the Samaritan isn’t even the one receiving the love — he’s the one being obedient! And all of this information, which has made this parable jump off of the page, is simply p’shat.

REMEZ

Did you know Jesus wasn’t even the one who came up with this story? It took place centuries before, and it’s in your Text: 2 Chronicles 28. In the story, the king of Samaria has defeated Judah. He is celebrating his spoils and treating the prisoners poorly when the prophet comes and tells him that God is not happy. He handed the people of Judah over to him because of His discipline, but He is not happy with how they are being treated by the king. The king thoughtfully repents:

So the armed men left the captives and the spoil before the princes and all the assembly. And the men who have been mentioned by name rose and took the captives, and with the spoil they clothed all who were naked among them. They clothed them, gave them sandals, provided them with food and drink, and anointed them, and carrying all the feeble among them on donkeys, they brought them to their kinsfolk at Jericho, the city of palm trees. Then they returned to Samaria.

This story has already happened! It’s a brilliant remez.

DRASH

As it stands, this is already an incredible teaching, but we have yet to uncover the drash. I worked for years trying to uncover the meaning. Then last year, one of my college students uncovered a chiasm in 2 Chronicles 28. Here is a depiction of the chiasm in the story of Chronicles:

Ahaz sacrifices to other gods (Baal)

The Lord humbles Ahaz with Aram and Isreal

Migration of people to Damascus

Man of Ephraim

Prophet Obed — “Restorer”

Men of Ephraim

Migration of people to Jericho

The Lord humbles Ahaz with Assyria

Ahaz sacrifices to other gods (Damascus)

The center of the chiasm ends up being Obed’s statement that they are to show mercy and love their enemies.

I don’t know if the lawyer’s mind exploded upon hearing this parable. I know he’s not even willing to say the name “Samaritan” when he answers Jesus. He apparently had a thought to ponder that night.

And again, if we are actually willing to hear the parable and not merely study it, so do we.

He who has ears, let him hear.