2. Ibid., 97. 3. J. Gerald Janzen, “Metaphor and Reality in Hosea 11,” Semeia 24 (1982), 7.
knew it. And in light of these similarly worded love commands in Leviticus 19, it’s not surprising that the rabbis debated the meanings of re-‘a. LOVE THE OTHER
Hultgren notes that Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan follows the so-called “rule of three” of good storytelling.2 Because tradition divided Israelite men into three categories—priests, Levites, and everyone else—first-time audiences likely anticipated that the third person to come upon a man lying
Our desire to love God through acts of obedience and loyalty does not arise from nothing and cannot really be commanded. The love God desires from us does not truly belong to God unless we offer it freely.
stripped, beaten, and half-dead on the road to Jericho would be an everyday Jew. According to that scenario, his obligation was clear—he must treat the sufferer as he would wish to be treated. But contrary to expectation, the third man is a Samaritan, part of a group whose reciprocal animosity with Jews was long-lived and, in Luke’s time, especially venomous. The scene is deserted; no one will know if he, too, walks by on the other side of the road. Instead, the Samaritan springs into action, treating the man’s wounds, transporting him to an inn, and paying generously for his care. In so doing, the Samaritan models more than “love one another;” he models love the other.
The lawyer who asks Jesus what he must do to inherit eternal life knows that the prize he seeks requires more than lip service. Indeed, “do” is a key word in his dialogue with Jesus: “what must I do to inherit eternal life? . . . do this and you will live . . . the one who showed him mercy . . . Go and do likewise” (Luke 10). In Jesus’ parable, as in the Shema in Deuteronomy 6:4–5, “love” is an action verb that emphasizes doing more than feeling: the Samaritan loves his neighbor by doing “secondmile” acts of caretaking, by taking that extra step. We admire him, of course, but we wonder about him as well. How has he transcended the bitterness and anger of his day—emotions that too easily overpower our attempts to love others as we love ourselves, especially those from whom we are divided by social conflicts, religious beliefs, political agendas, and so on? According to Jesus, the Samaritan is “moved with compassion” (Luke 10:33), a response that commandments—even divine commandments—can neither create nor sustain. What is the source of his compassion—a word that, in the New Testament, almost always refers to divine compassion as revealed in Jesus? TO BE A PARENT
Etched on the middle panel of our triptych mirror is Hosea 11:1–11, a text biblical theologian Gerald Janzen calls “the boldest portrayal of ‘the living God’ in the [Hebrew Bible].”3 Hosea, who crafts intricate, familial metaphors to illuminate the more illusive ties uniting God and Israel, here presents the Lord as the adoptive parent of a beloved little boy: “When
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