“But [the lawyer], wanting to justify himself, said to Jesus, ‘And who is my neighbor?’”

Glory to Jesus Christ! Glory forever!

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

In 2014, the Russian Federation first annexed Crimea, sparking a Russo-Ukrainian War that has been ongoing for the last decade, with a death toll of 500,000 persons and counting, both Russian and Ukrainian. In the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, since 2008, there have been nearly 20,000 deaths, half of which on both sides being children. One particularly disturbing statistic I read, stating, “More children [were] killed in Gaza in one month than in any other conflict annually since 2019” (Wilson, Rachel, “Scale of loss in the Israel-Hamas war”).

“And behold, a certain lawyer stood up, … saying, ‘Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?’ [Jesus] said to him, ‘What is written in the law?’ And he answered [Jesus] and said, ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart… and your neighbor as yourself.’ And he said to him, ‘You have answered rightly; do this and you will live.’ But [the lawyer], wanting to justify himself, said to Jesus, ‘And who is my neighbor?’” (Luke 10:25-29).

“And who is my neighbor?” We know this parable so well, brethren, I am sure. Our neighbor—the person whom we may love, and the person who may reciprocate said love for us—is possibly the person we hate most. That is to say, in the context of the Parable of the Good Samaritan, and in the broader context of Christ’s instruction to his interlocutor: one’s neighbor may be anyone and everyone. A neighbor can be a friend. But a neighbor, as the object of our care and compassion and love, does not need to be a friend. Our neighbor is simply the other; bad, good, righteous, unrighteous, rich, poor, proper, profane, sophisticated, stupid, holy, sinful. Our neighbor is simply the other: another made in the image of God.

Many moral insights, brethren, can be gleaned from our Lord’s parable today. However, I would like to fixate on just this one: “But [the lawyer] wanting to justify himself… .”

In his discussions with Jesus, despite answering well, our lawyer is reluctantly aware of something. He knows that he knows the Law. He is a studied lawyer. But he also knows that he has not perfectly kept the Law. Otherwise, he would not have “wanted to justify himself.” No justification is needed if no lawlessness has been committed. “Perhaps there is a caveat?” thinks the lawyer, “a footnote, a provision? Neighbor cannot mean ‘neighbor’ in the broadest sense, right? Certainly, it would not include Gentiles, Philistines, Phoenicians, Persians, Egyptians, or… (*insert gnashing teeth SFX*) Samaritans!?” But in the telling of the parable, Christ answers the lawyer directly, though pastorally, “There is no provision. There is no exclusion. All are neighbors. All are called to be, by my gospel, neighborly.”

And, even more remarkable, “neighborly” does not mean simply “friendly” or “tolerant.” To be a neighbor is to act without self-interest, to act in sacrificial love, as did the Samaritan in the parable for his Jewish neighbor. To be neighborly is not to not be hostile; is not to not slander. To be neighborly is to empathize in action.

“But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was. And when he saw him, he had compassion. So he went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine; and he set him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. [And] on the next day, when he departed, he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said to him, ‘Take care of him; and whatever more you spend, when I come again, I will repay you” (Luke 10:33-35).

A neighbor loves indiscriminately. A neighbor sees Christ in every man and every woman. A neighbor does not regard his own allegiances—geographical and social—as determinant, that is, of who he or she may love or serve or associate with.

In the icon of the Parable of the Good Samaritan, who is the Good Samaritan, brethren? It is interesting that the parable, as well as the iconography, interpreting the revolutionary message of the gospel in picture and form, presents Christ himself as the Good Samaritan. It would have been surprising—offensive—enough to suggest that a good Jew would love a Samaritan, would be “neighborly” in this way. But Christ, in his teaching, pushes the envelope even further. “No, no, no! It is not even the Jew who is the good one; the Jew is the injured one. It is the Samaritan who is keeper of the Law in perfection.” And do you remember the original question, asked by the lawyer?

            “Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?”

            “You shall love the Lord your God, … and your neighbor as yourself.”

In Christ’s parable, the Samaritan fulfills the Law, and so, the Samaritan is eligible to inherit the promises of God: life eternal.

But, brethren, this should not surprise us. Because this is just one of many instances in which Christ turns the expectations and understandings of his audience on their heads. “Blessed are the prosperous and powerful!” No, but “blessed are the poor and meek” (cf. Matt 5:3-5). “Blessed are you who are honored!” No, but “blessed are you who are persecuted for my name’s sake; rejoice, and be exceedingly glad, for great is your reward in heaven” (Matt 5:12). “Blessed are those who know the Law and may justify themselves by it.” No, but “Everyone who hears my words and obeys them; … and believes in him who sent me has eternal life. He does not come into judgment” (Matt 7:24, John 5:24).

The lawyer sought to justify himself, brethren, but we know, “There is none righteous, no, not one” (Rom 3:10). Indeed, we live in a culture, and in a world, saturated in self-justification. “But he did this; but she did that; how was I supposed to respond?” “He hit me first. She pulled my hair. He took my toy. He ruined my tea party!” You can tell I am a parent, yes? And can you imagine how our vain attempts at self-justification sound to our Lord? Surely, very, very childish.

“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, … and your neighbor as yourself.”

                        “And… who is my neighbor?”

Childish; childish, little punk lawyer.

There are many conflicts raging globally, brethren, in which men and women have forgotten who their neighbor is. They will justify this callousness with an appeal to

moral superiority. “My cause is right and righteous, because...” No cause, brethren, in which there is bloodshed of innocent children is right and righteous.

No cause, brethren, in which wives and children are left husbandless and fatherless is right and righteous. No cause, brethren, in which neighbors—literal, geographical

neighbors—take up arms against one another in hatred and grievous self-interest, fueled by ideologies and politics that demonize and dehumanize the other, made in the

image of God, can be right and righteous.

 It is for this reason that we as Orthodox Christians, pray “for all perpetrators of man’s brutal inhumanity against man, [for all persons who have forgotten the common

estate, the common neighborhood, of all mankind], for the people of Ukraine and Russia, for the people of Israel and Gaza: intervene, O Lord, we pray thee, hearken and

have mercy.”

Through the prayers of our holy fathers, O Lord, Jesus Christ, our God, have mercy on us and save us. Amen.      

 Glory to Jesus Christ! Glory forever!