Luke 10:25 And, behold, a certain lawyer stood up, and tempted him, saying, Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life? The question of the lawyer is the question of the human heart everywhere. You will find it asked and answered in all the world's religions. The answers fall into two classes. 1. One set of replies thinks of the better life as a thing external to a man's own being, procurable by something that a man can do, by bodily self-denial or suffering, or by religious rites or ceremonies. 2. The other class of answers amounts to this — that nothing that is merely outside a man or comes to him from without can ever meet his wants. The true ideal life of humanity is in its very essence a life; it is not doing, it is being. The orthodox doctrine in Christ's time taught very definitely what was the pathway to eternal life. The religious teachers laid it down that the life God wants men to live was a life of obedience to the law of Moses. The preaching of Jesus Christ did not quite tally with the orthodox teaching of the time. The Pharisee and the penitent, the harlots and publicans, were distinctly conscious that Christ was preaching a new gospel. The gospel of the Pharisees was orthodox; therefore the gospel of Christ was heresy. They were bent upon getting a case against Him, and yet it was not easy. Be Himself fulfilled the law, conformed to all its requirements and statutes, and never spoke disrespectfully of it. How were they to catch Him? One day a crafty lawyer had a very happy thought. He determined to cross-question Christ, to force Him to declare His inner hostility to the creed of the Pharisees, His inner antagonism to the law of God: "What shall I do to inherit eternal life?" A fair, honest question, and yet in the very wording of it the note of discord comes out. Jesus is confronted with a man whose notion of eternal life is utterly different from His. It is impossible to answer that man. Instead of answering, Jesus turns questioner. He must bring out the man's own notions, and then, when He has got them, it may be possible to show him how threadbare, how poverty-stricken, how wrong they are. "What do you find in the law? How readest thou?" The lawyer, taken aback, gives the regulation reply. He could not repeat the whole law, but there was a summary of it, a standing condensed statement of it, and this he repeats to Jesus: "Thou shalt love...'" Now, what have we to say to that answer? Is this the pathway to eternal life? What more could a man do to make the music of his life majestic, heavenly, splendid? Loving God utterly, and loving all men as you love yourself — no doubt that is life eternal. The scribe's answer is the true answer; yet in the scribe's mouth it was an utter lie, and a damning heresy, that was sending men's souls to ruin. Christ could accept the definition of the lawyer. "Thou hast answered right." But then the meaning that He felt in those words was a meaning utterly different from that of the Pharisee; and there you have the explanation of His preaching. He took the very same text that the scribes took, but what a different sermon He preached from it, and what a different application against theirs! He did not say "Obey"; He said the word that must come before obey: He said "Love." The least bit of love will do more to make you keep the commandments than any amount of studying them, or any amount of selfish resolve to make a good thing out of the commandments for yourself. The essence of the Pharisee's gospel was selfishness. Save yourself by keeping on the right side, and not giving God a chance against you. What a God, and what a soul! I think that Jesus, as soon as the scribe had given his reply, looked him straight in the face. The look meant, "Dare you pretend that you do that?" and the man felt it, and therefore, we read, was eager-to justify himself. The man's conscience was uneasy. He instantly said, "Yes, but who is my neighbour?" It is where the heart is cold that definitions come in. "Who is my neighbour? How many men can claim love from me?" said the scribe. Christ did not answer that, but He made a picture in order to ask the scribe this question, "Who is the man who plays the neighbour's part?" He told of a man who started from Jerusalem to go to Jericho, and was attacked on the way by thieves, who certainly did not play the part of neighbour by him. There came on the road a priest and a Levite. Christ had not that foolish idea that the clergy should never be held up to rebuke or scorn when they deserve it. Do not misjudge the priest and the Levite. You say they did a heartless thing. They did not; they had not heart to do it. Their sin was not in not doing something, but in being heartless. That is the very point of the story. And if you had met these men after hearing of it, and had asked them how they could do such a thing, they would have assured you that they did not see any man like that. They would have told you that they saw a man who had been fighting, or who had got drunk, or who was an impostor. Or they would have told you they were going to a religious service at Jericho, and had not the time for it. All we can say of them is that they had not heart. And Christ paints the other side of it. There came along a Samaritan, a man of a different religion, a man who had been taught of the Jews that he owed them no kindness. He appeared to be a business man, and probably it would be more to him to lose his market than to the clergy to be late for the religious service. He saw the man, and he saw the first passer-by that had seen him; he saw the wretchedness of it — and he had a heart, and that is all. He did not say," Is there anything in the Decalogue bearing on this?" And he certainly did not say, "Is that man a neighbour? He is a Jew. Where does he come from?" If he had begun going to the law, he would never have done it. And now, mark how the story has answered the question. As soon as it is finished Christ turns to the scribe, and asks, "Who played the neighbour's part?" Not the priest, not the scribe, not his own fellow-countrymen. It was that Samaritan. Nobody could deny it. Even the lawyer acknowledges it. That was a beautiful thing to do, and Christ drove it home with the rejoinder, "Go thou and do likswise"; and He sent that man away saying to himself, "No amount of reading the law would ever make me able to do that; more than that, my reading of the law must be all wrong." Christ had made that man understand that what he wanted was the real love of the real, living, loving God, and the real, common human love to his fellow-men. Where have you and I to learn that love for God and love for man? I will tell you. At the feet of Christ, and by His side, in fellowship with Him, we shall learn to love God with all our heart, and soul, and mind, and strength, and our neigh-bout as ourself; and that is eternal life. (Professor Elmslie, M. A.) Parallel Verses KJV: And, behold, a certain lawyer stood up, and tempted him, saying, Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life? |
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