The Good Samaritan. 3

II. The Passersby.

"And by chance there came down a certain priest that way; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, come and looked on him, and passed by on the other side" (Luke 10:31, 32).

If careful attention be paid to their setting, and especially to their terms, these verses need occasion no more difficulty than those which precede or those which follow. But if they are regarded cursorily and only a blurred and general view be taken of their contents, then the fault is ours, if we err in our understanding of them. If we approach them on the assumption ("presumption," we ought to say) that they supply nothing more than the "drapery" of the parable, then no wonder if they convey no clear conceptions. Are we to regard each parable of our Lord's, as designed merely to set forth a single and central truth, much in it being only "embellishment," —or as a Divinely-drawn picture, no line in it being superfluous and meaningless? Which is the more honoring to God?

This writer has no difficulty or hesitation in answering these questions. In his judgment it is quite clear that the "priest" and the "Levite" symbolize or set forth something definite, something which it is important for us to understand, something which serves to enhance the beauty and blessedness of that which follows. What that something is—must be prayerfully inquired after and sought for by duly pondering each particular detail mentioned in connection with the "priest" and the "Levite."

First, it is said of the former that "by chance" he came that way. The same thing is intimated in the case of the "Levite" by the word "likewise."

Second, of the former it is said that he "saw" the half-dead traveler; of the latter that he "looked" on him.

Third, in each case we are told that he "passed by on the other side," that is he offered no assistance to the desperately wounded one—he ministered not to his sore needs. Let us seek to ponder these details.

1. "By chance there came down" that way a certain priest. "By chance" means "by accident," or as the world speaks, "by a mere co-incidence" the priest passed along the road at that time. But does not this very expression present a real difficulty to those who believe that there are no "accidents" in a world which is governed by God—that nothing enters our lives by mere "chance" or without His appointment? Most certainly this was not a "chance" meeting—with respect to Him by whose Providence our every act is ordered. Yet the solution is simple—the word "chance" signifies without design—the priest had no conscious intention, no deliberated purpose of encountering the poor sufferer. Therein lies the key which unlocks this section of the narrative—it was never the Divine will that religion as such, should recover or save the sinner—whatever the reason why God gave the "priest" and the "Levite," it most certainly was not for that.

2. What was denoted here by the "priest" and the "Levite"? Considered doctrinally and practically, the priest and Levite would stand for the moraland ceremonial law of Sinai. Was it then the purpose of Christ to throw contempt upon Law and Religion? Certainly not—His purpose was to teach us what, after nineteen centuries, vast multitudes in Christendom are still ignorant of, namely—that neither the deeds of the law nor religious duties can avail anything for a desperately wounded sinner who is dead toward God. Baptism, confirmation, church membership, fasting, attendance at the Lord's Table can neither impart life nor remove the guilt of sin! The most scrupulous observance of ordinances amounts to nothing—for one who is under the wrath of God.

3. "He passed by on the other side." The real force of this is nearly always missed. It was not that Christ here portrayed the priests of Israel as a callous and cruel class. No, according to his own inspired textbook—the priest and the Levite could do nothing else. The "priest" was appointed for the specific purpose of offering sacrifices. But the wounded traveler had none, nor had he any money to purchase one, for he had been robbed! What, then, could the priest do for him? Nothing whatever. Nor was the "Levite" any better equipped—for him to have so much as touched a bleeding man would have ceremonially defiled him (Lam. 4:14)! Neither the one nor the other was competent to, or qualified for delivering the ruined sinner—nor had God ever appointed them for any such end.

As we have previously intimated, in order to discover the doctrinal and spiritual meaning of our Lord's teaching in Luke 10:30-35, it is necessary to pay attention to the context. There we find a lawyer asking Christ, "What shall I do to inherit eternal life?" (v. 25). His immediate answer we have already noted—it remains for us to point out that in the passage we are now pondering the Savior supplied a further and more humbling, if less direct, reply. What is it that the sinner must do in order to obtain everlasting felicity? Consider the actual condition of fallen man and then answer your own question. The sinner has fallen among thieves, who have stripped him, wounded him, abandoned him to his fate, leaving him half dead—alive to the world—yet dead Godward. What can such an one do? They who teach salvation by works ignore the ruin which sin has wrought in the human constitution; they who inculcate salvation by self-effort repudiate man's total depravity.

Such we believe was Christ's purpose in the first part of this passage—to make clear the fact that fallen man is in such a wretched condition, that he is beyond doing anything for his deliverance. But such a truth is far too distasteful to proud human nature. Man will not accept the Divine verdict, he will not believe his case is so desperate as the Scriptures depict it. He persuades himself that it lies in his own power to win the favor of God. He thinks that if he tries his best, and employs himself in religious duties, that such endeavors will receive an eternal recompense. All the expedients which human wisdom has devised as remedies for the wounds which sin has inflicted, may be reduced to two: law-keeping (good works)—and religious duties. And man fondly concludes that he finds Scriptural warrant for such remedies. Did not God Himself give the Law at Sinai, a law both moral and ceremonial? Then surely if we use them diligently they must prove effective!

It was, we are convinced, to expose the sophistry of such a theory that Christ introduced into His narrative the "priest" and the "Levite." They were indeed the representatives of a Divinely-instituted system of religion—but Judaism was never appointed by God as a means of salvation. So far from the Law being given to furnish redemption, it was but a "schoolmaster to bring us unto Christ" (Gal. 3:24), revealing to man his wretchedness and powerlessness to meet the Divine requirements. In the very nature of the case, law cannot condone—but must condemn its transgressors. Though the law demands obedience, it cannot communicate enablement. On the other hand, it cannot excuse disobedience. And since fallen man is "without strength" (Romans 5:6), his case is utterly hopeless so far as salvation by law-keeping is concerned. The Law cannot impart life—so of what avail can it be unto one who is dead toward God?

In perfect accord with what has been just pointed out, our Lord represented the priest and the Levite as coming where the wounded traveler lay "by chance," and not by premeditated purpose. Therein He plainly denoted, that it was never God's design that either the moral or the ceremonial law should improve the condition of the fallen one. All they could do was "look on him" (take note of his condition) and "pass by on the other side." The Law can render no assistance to those who have broken it. On the one hand it makes no abatement of its demands—and on the other it shows no mercy. The Law can furnish no relief to those who are naked, wounded, half dead. It can supply no robe of righteousness, pour in no balm, impart no life. It cannot so much as speak a word of comfort to the distressed conscience—rather does it fill it with terror.

It is on that dark background, that the Savior brought into more vivid contrast, the blessedness and glory of the Gospel of the grace of God. This is what is now presented to our view.

But before we turn to that Divine grace as acted out in the Person and work of His dear Son, we will dispose of what some are fond of raising as anobjection. We are told by a certain type of would-be superior expositors that we must not "go too far" in our application of such a passage as this, that we must beware of reading a meaning into every "trivial clause"—that we should fix our attention upon the "main features" and ignore what is "only verbiage." Particularly do these men warn us against looking for a meaning in each detail of our Lord's parables. Personally we have long believed that the danger lies in the opposite direction—mere generalizations convey no tangible and clearly-defined concepts to the mind, and where such a loose method of exegesis be adopted, all certainty is at an end.

As the author of the "Numerical Bible" has pertinently pointed out, "A picture out of which we may leave whatever features we please—to consider of no use except for decoration, is surely that in which we are most liable to go astray. On the other hand, having to make every detail fit is just what will put bounds to the imagination when disposed to go astray. The insisting upon a complete agreement between the representation and what it represents, is in the interests of exact interpretation every way."

But the door is not open for any debate upon this point—our Lord Himself has settled it once for all. In Matthew 13:3-9 we have the parable of "The Sower" and at verse 18 Christ began His explanation of the same. What did He say there? Did He merely generalize and summarize, or did He particularize? He particularized and showed that every detail possessed a distinct significance! The "seed" was the Word of the kingdom, the "wayside" soil was a hearer who understood it not, the "fowls" which came and devoured the seed were "the Wicked One" who prevents the Word finding lodging in the heart. So Christ went on through each part of the parable, assigning a specific meaning to every term He used therein. Shall we then be deemed "fanciful" when we discover a beauty in every separate line of the picture of the good Samaritan, when the Lord Himself declared the "thorns" on the third kind of fruitless ground symbolized "the care of this world and the deceitfulness of riches" in verse 22?!

As though to anticipate the objection that that particular parable was an exception, standing in a different category from all others—we find in Mark's Gospel that before He expounded its meaning, Christ asked His disciples, "Don't you understand this parable? How then will you understand all the parables?" (Mk 4:13). He then went on to explain that the smallest detail in it conveyed express instructions.

But more—if we turn back again to Matthew 13, it will be found that to settle the matter once and for all, Christ condescended to interpret another of His parables, that of the "Tares." Here, too, He gave a distinct meaning to every detail—the "Sower" is the Son of Man, the "field" is the world, the "good seed" the children of the kingdom, the "tares" the children of the Wicked One, the "Enemy that sowed them is the devil," the "harvest" is the end of the world, the "reapers" are the angels. The only detail not interpreted is "the furnace of fire," because it is literal and not figurative. Thus, when we fail to perceive a meaning in the minutiae of our Lord's parables, it is not because such is not there—but because we are not sufficiently spiritual to perceive it.

Next Part The Good Samaritan. 4

Back to Arthur Pink