It was by such a concurrence,' that, first a priest, then a Levite came down that road, when each, successively, when he saw him, passed by over against (him).' It was the principle of questioning, Who is my neighbour?' which led both priest and Levite to such heartless conduct. Who knew what this wounded man was, and how he came to lie there: and were they called upon, in ignorance of this, to take all the trouble, perhaps incur the risk of life, which care of him would involve? Thus Judaism (in the persons of its chief representatives) had, by its exclusive attention to the letter, come to destroy the spirit of the Law. Happily, there came yet another that way, not only a stranger, but one despised, a semi-heathen Samaritan. [4432] He asked not who the man was, but what was his need. Whatever the wounded Jew might have felt towards him, the Samaritan proved a true neighbour.' He came towards him, and beholding him, he was moved with compassion.' His resolution was soon taken. He first bound up his wounds, and then, taking from his travelling provision wine and oil, made of them, what was regarded as the common dressing for wounds. [4433] Next, having set' (lifted) him on his own beast, he walked by his side, and brought him to one of those houses of rest and entertainment, whose designation (pandocheon) has passed into Rabbinic language ({hebrew}). These khans, or hostelries, by the side of unfrequented roads, afforded free lodgment to the traveller. But generally they also offered entertainment, in which case, of course, the host, commonly a non-Israelite, charged for the victuals supplied to man or beast, or for the care taken. In the present instance the Samaritan seems himself to have tended the wounded man all that evening. But even thus his care did not end. The next morning, before continuing his journey, he gave to the host two dinars - about one shilling and threepence of our money, the amount of a labourer's wages for two days, [4434] - as it were, two days' wages for his care of him, with this provision, that if any further expense were incurred, either because the wounded man was not sufficiently recovered to travel, or else because something more had been supplied to him, the Good Samaritan would pay it when he next came that way.
So far the Parable: its lesson the lawyer' is made himself to enunciate. Which of these three seems to thee to have become neighbour of him that fell among the robbers?' Though unwilling to take the hated name of Samaritan on his lips, especially as the meaning of the Parable and its anti-Rabbinic bearing were so evident, the lawyer' was obliged to reply, He that showed mercy on him,' when the Saviour finally answered, Go, and do thou likewise.'
Some further lessons may be drawn. The Parable implies not a mere enlargement of the Jewish ideas, but a complete change of them. It is truly a Gospel-Parable, for the whole old relationship of mere duty is changed into one of love. Thus, matters are placed on an entirely different basis from that of Judaism. The question now is not Who is my neighbour?' but Whose neighbour am I?' The Gospel answers the question of duty by pointing us to love. Wouldst thou know who is thy neighbour? Become a neighbour to all by the utmost service thou canst do them in their need. And so the Gospel would not only abolish man's enmity, but bridge over man's separation. Thus is the Parable truly Christian, and, more than this, points up to Him Who, in our great need, became Neighbour to us, even at the cost of all He had. And from Him, as well as by His Word, are we to learn our lesson of love.
2. The Parable which follows in St. Luke's narrative [4435] seems closely connected with that just commented upon. It is also a story of a good neighbour who gives in our need, but presents another aspect of the truth to which the Parable of the Good Samaritan had pointed. Love bends to our need: this is the objective manifestation of the Gospel. Need looks up to love, and by its cry elicits the boon which it seeks. And this is the subjective experience of the Gospel. The one underlies the story of the first Parable, the other that of the second.