THE road from Jerusalem to Jericho had 1 a very bad name in the days of our Lord, and it is still one which is infested with robbers, who, crouching behind rocks or trees, lie in wait for the unwary traveler. They make nothing of wounding and stripping their victim, and of leaving him half dead, and to perish, if no aid should come to him. From these familiar incidents, so often occurring on the well-known road from the city of Peace to the city of the Curse, our Lord has taught us of the terrors of the downward way that, starting from God, leads to destruction, and His most gracious love in finding us in our misery, and taking us out of it.
Jesus is the sinner’s Friend—the Friend of the friendless and the hopeless—as such He ever proved Himself when He was here—yet on this earth He was a stranger, unrecognized by the religious people of the Jews, and unknown by the Gentiles. In His parable He likens Himself to “a certain Samaritan” —a stranger, therefore, to the Jews, for “the Jews have no dealings with the Samaritans”; they were strangers, and as such kept at arm’s length from one another. To this day, to the mass of mankind, Jesus is a stranger, but He is nevertheless the Friend and the Neighbor who loves us.
“A certain man,” said the Lord in His parable, “went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead,” and in these words He portrays the sinner on the downward road, the prey of sin and Satan, overcome, overwhelmed, and dying in his misery. The beginning of the journey may seem gay enough, but before the end be reached, the sinner learns too well, by bitter experience, what thieves and what wounds accompany that journey.
Now, who will be the traveler’s friend in his extremity, as robbed and wounded he lies “half dead”? A certain priest came by his way, and “he saw him”! Had the priest the heart or the power to help the wounded man? “He passed by on the other side.” The priest left as wide a margin as the width of the road between himself and the half dead man, neither will nor power was in him to deliver.
A priest as a priest could not help a half dead man! It was not his province so to do. He could in his office wait upon the divine worship, but not upon a dying sinner, to such service he was not appointed. He could stand near the holy place and help to bring in the offerings of the people, but to bow himself down over a fellow man in his dying state, to soothe, to heal, to lift him up—this was not the priest’s work. The priest was not appointed to come down to the level of a wounded sinner: “he passed by on the other side,” keeping his garments clear from the defilement of the touch of the dying man.
“And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him, and passed by on the other side.” The Levite might teach man God’s law, but he could not save—he could not give power to the dying to live. “Do this, and thou shalt live,” said the law, but how could the law help the dying! The law might look on the sinner in his sins and misery, and, as it were, exclaim upon his dying state and the folly that had led to it, but it was not the office of the law to save or to befriend. And such as repair to the law do not find salvation there; God did not send it to give life, but to convince of sin.
“But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was” —yes, where he was, just down to the man in his need. Is not this precisely what Jesus has done for us? He came down to us where we were naked, wounded, and dying! Such was the journey He took—that way of wonders—from the glory to the cross, and back, through the empty grave, to the glory whence He came. “And when he saw him, he had compassion on him.” Such is His heart towards the victim of sin’s misery. There is not a sinner ever so low down in sin, ever so wretched, but that Jesus is moved with compassion towards him. He is the Friend in need, and the Friend indeed.
He “went to him” —he not only saw, he went. He stooped down over the dying man; he bound up his wounds with his own hands, he saved him from death; he poured in the oil and the wine, he healed and gave life; and then he set the man upon his own beast. He became the Servant of the sinner He had saved! Oh! what a Saviour is He! Who of our readers says, as He considers Jesus, “Does not our heart burn within us?” The saved soul knows by experience the gracious love that saved him.
Not only this, he “brought him to an inn, and took care of him” —he brought the poor man to a shelter. True, he did not at once bring him home, but to a gracious wayside shelter, where the wounded man should be under the care of the loving stranger. And so it is, Jesus takes care of the sinner He has saved; He never leaves him to shift for himself. His salvation is perfect all the way through, from the moment He puts away our sins until He comes again to bring us into His Father’s house.
Then the stranger went on his way—whither? The parable does not tell us, but we may well conceive the stranger journeying from Jericho to Jerusalem—from the city of the Curse to the city of Peace—from earth to heaven; for so it was with the Lord when He taught His love in this parable. He has left the earth; He has gone up to the Father; He has departed to the home on high, and now His people are in the inn, under the care of the Host, under the care of the Holy Spirit, and at the charges of Jesus, whose words are, “Take care of him; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again, I will repay thee.” Thus are the objects of the Lord’s love cared for in time!
His coming is near at hand, but until He comes the sinner He has rescued is the object of His love and solicitude. How eagerly would the rescued man have watched for the return of the stranger who had befriended him! Shall it not be so with us? Let us look for Him, for His return is nigh, and when He comes He will take us away from the inn and bring us with Himself to the eternal Home.