Apparently I have had a lifelong habit of losing things. I don’t actually remember specific items that I lost as a child and youth, but I clearly remember several lines my father used on me in those occasions. He would say, “Randy, you’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached to you.”  Or, when I’d ask him about something I misplaced, he would say, “Yes, I know where it is … right where you last had it!”

It is frustrating in life to lose things or misplace them. Among things I have lost is my wedding ring – years ago when still in New Jersey. I think it happened while coaching little league baseball. I once misplaced my passport in England and only managed to find it at the last minute before flying back to the States. I have twice lost my sermon notes just before it was time to preach – once here and once in New Jersey. It is a weekly experience to lose car keys, cell phone, wallet, etc.

But, when something is lost, but then is found, it is a great feeling of joy and relief. For the next four days we will be looking at the three parables in Luke 15 of the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the lost (prodigal) son. Each of them sets up a celebration that is huge – actually out of proportion for the item being found … showing of course the great joy of salvation.

But before someone is found, they have to realize they are lost. And that is a great challenge on many occasions. And we see this very dynamic in the setting of these three parables, each given in response to Christ’s awareness of the attitude of the Pharisees.

15:1 – Now the tax collectors and sinners were all gathering around to hear Jesus.2 But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.”

To the Pharisees, all of the hanging out that Jesus did with the sinner classes of people was, in their view, totally over the line.  Eating with people in that culture signified that you identified with them – and why would a righteous person … say, like themselves … do such a thing and think they are godly??  The Pharisees did not see themselves as lost; the sinners were those who were lost.

Jesus, as always, knows what they are thinking and what was really the condition of their hearts, whether he heard their murmurings or not. And rather than confront it directly, he tells them three stories that have an impact bigger than any frontal rebuke would contain. The point that Jesus would make is that, though they may not have had the same obvious debts as those upon whom they regarded as great sinners, because they lacked perfection, they were indeed just as spiritually lost.

A challenge in evangelism is to get people to understand their lost condition accurately. While you won’t really find anyone who claims to truly be perfectly sinless, the vast majority of people do not rightly understand their lost condition before God. They do not see themselves as being in danger of judgment or in a state of separation from God because of a barrier of sin. They rather see God as a sort of kindly old grandfather who can’t help but dote upon his grandkids – overlooking their minimally insignificant failures to be righteous, believing that God will just sorta say, “Well, boys will be boys.” Then he’ll grin and buy them an ice cream cone.

The fact is that our debt of sin inherited from Adam has us separated from God. The Scriptures speak of us as “dead in our trespasses and sins.” Dead people don’t respond, but God in grace gives us life to respond to the preaching of the gospel. And at that moment there is great rejoicing in heaven when a sinner comes to receive that gift of grace.

Questions to ponder/discuss – Do you remember what it was like before you came to know Christ, and how did you believe you were OK with God at that time?  Do you find it difficult when telling others about Christ to see them understand their lost condition?  What are the thoughts of many people as to why they believe themselves to be fine with God? How do we help people understand their lost condition, and how do we do this without sounding judgmental or condescending?

This is a true story; I cannot deny it. When Diana and I only had our three oldest boys – about, I’d guess ages 7, 5 & 4 – they were really into castles and forts and things of that sort. I think Lego building systems had a lot to do with that. Sadly, there aren’t many castles in the USA – nothing like those I’ve visited in various trips to Europe.

In those early years of our growing family, we lived in New Jersey and often made trips to visit our many relatives who lived in Texas, driving right through this area on Interstate 81.

Somehow, we became aware that there was this place you could visit in Berkeley Springs where there was alleged to be a castle on the hill. Now understand, at that time of life before moving here, I’d never ever heard of Berkeley Springs. So, we planned to stop at it on the way to Texas.

We packed a lunch, ate it in the park there, and while the kids were playing, I think Nathan finally caught sight of the castle on the hill, and we went to visit it. The place was a total dive back then and was an absolute waste of time, but that is just the background of the story.

When it was time to depart and continue our trip south to Texas, instead of wanting to retrace our path north to Hancock on I-70, and then east to 81, I thought surely there must be a way to cut southwest and catch 81 much farther south. And I was equally sure my fantastic sense of direction would take me there. So I drove out of Berkeley Springs toward the southeast … and kept driving and driving (this was before the days of GPS – I know some of you cannot imagine that time). Diana kept suggesting I should ask someone for directions (although we were mostly in the hollers of WV and there was no way I was stopping) … and besides, that is simply not a manly thing to do. And even more than that, I was NOT lost – no way, I was just fine.

After about 90 minutes of travel – about which I was sure we’d be running into 81 at any moment, yes, you guessed it, there I was driving back into Berkeley Springs on another road. We had driven in a giant circle.

I hate asking for directions! Not only that, I don’t like to admit when I’m lost. But to find your way to where you need to go, you first have to confess that you are indeed lost.

And that is how it is spiritually speaking as well. We are all born in a lost condition – separated from God and relationship with him. But Christ has made it possible for us to be found and be reconciled – but we must admit our lost condition and come to Christ humbly to find new life in him.

This Sunday, and with our Monday-Thursday writings of next week, we are going to talk about lost things – three parables that talk about the lost being found, and the joy of the Father when that which was lost has been found. We’ll look in Luke 15 at a lost sheep, a lost coin, and a lost son.

We are going to boldly ask the question on Sunday for any and all who are there: Have you admitted you are lost in your sinful condition, and have you been found by Christ and received His gift of new life? And too, we will memorialize that life-giving sacrifice with a time of communion together.

Some people ruin everything.   In high school, it was common to have division between the “cool” kids and the chess club.  If we’re guilty by association, then no one wants to be tried and convicted of being socially awkward.  Thing is, as much as we shake our heads at the immaturity of high schoolers, this attitude never really goes away.  There will always be those above us on the social ladder, and if we want to be like them we have to put some distance between ourselves and the folks below us.

In Jesus’ day, many of the religious leaders thought that their righteousness and social reputations were one and the same.  Surely they could sneer down on those beneath them.  That’s why Jesus’ parable is so unsettling.  The “cool” crowd—the ones who had all the blessings—were too busy to attend the party.  So, in Jesus’ parable, the party host has another plan entirely:

21 So the servant came and reported these things to his master. Then the master of the house became angry and said to his servant, ‘Go out quickly to the streets and lanes of the city, and bring in the poor and crippled and blind and lame.’ 22 And the servant said, ‘Sir, what you commanded has been done, and still there is room.’ 23 And the master said to the servant, ‘Go out to the highways and hedges and compel people to come in, that my house may be filled. 24 For I tell you, none of those men who were invited shall taste my banquet.’” (Luke 14:21-24)

Why would Jesus place special emphasis on the social outcasts?  Would the less fortunate be better able to enjoy the party?

In the ancient world, there was no ACLU.  A physical disability was little more than a death sentence without the assistance of others.  Worse yet, as we mentioned earlier many would see your suffering as God’s punishment.  Clearly you were worthy of being avoided.  But no; these were the sorts of people that the party host draws near.  When there’s room to spare, the host insists that the servants go to Wal-Mart, the DMV—the kinds of places we like to avoid—and bring in the people we tend to distance ourselves from.

Think about it this great reversal for a minute.  The wealthy, the well-off—these people avoided the party because they’d already found their saviors.  That is, if unhappiness is my greatest problem, then my salvation lies in securing happiness through prosperity or relationships.  Who needs Jesus?  But the broken, the lame, the outcasts—these folks had no idols to turn to.  They had a fuller understanding of their need for a Savior.

Jesus’ point isn’t that one group becomes socially superior—it’s actually far deeper than that.  Jesus is saying that those who seek self-sufficiency are “out,” while those who recognize their own weakness are “in.”  If my greatest need is happiness, then I need to look no farther than my TV remote.  But if my greatest need is acceptance, then I need the mercy extended from the cross of Christ.  What about you—what are your needs?  May we count ourselves not among the self-sufficient, but instead count ourselves among those who limp their way to Jesus’ party, and through the gates of the undying.

If you’re a stranger to the world of social media, then consider yourself lucky not to have to endure one of its less pleasant aspects.  I’m talking about event invites.  Or, for that matter, requests to play online games.  Mind you, some folks are legitimately discriminating with their requests.  Others, not so much.  I’ve personally been invited to multiple parties wherein I’d be expected to purchase some sort of elaborate cookware or homemade scented candles or something.  It had occurred to me that hey, maybe going to these things would be a good way to meet women, but I suspect that all the hotties at the apron party are already spoken for.  But I digress.

See, thanks to technology we get bombarded with so many invitations to “like” things, “join” things, attend things—eventually the wall of information grows so large we learn to tune it out.  Ignore it.  Because frankly, we all have better things to do.  Trouble is, if we make this a habit we run the risk of missing good opportunities because we’re so preoccupied with our own lives.

This is what Jesus cautions his religious tablemates about at the party.  Yesterday we looked at two quick parables that speak of the great reversal of values in the kingdom.  When they heard this, Luke tells us:

15 When one of those who reclined at table with him heard these things, he said to him, “Blessed is everyone who will eat bread in the kingdom of God!” (Luke 14:15)

The more I read this the more I wonder if he’s being a bit defensive.  Jesus had just told them that their assumptions of status and “belonging” were faulty, and that they should extend love by elevating those from the lower rungs of the social ladder.  But, this man seems to be insisting, what difference does it make?  Surely everyone who joins the party has a good time, right?  Jesus responds by telling a longer story about a great banquet:

16 But he said to him, “A man once gave a great banquet and invited many. 17 And at the time for the banquet he sent his servant to say to those who had been invited, ‘Come, for everything is now ready.’ 18 But they all alike began to make excuses. The first said to him, ‘I have bought a field, and I must go out and see it. Please have me excused.’ 19 And another said, ‘I have bought five yoke of oxen, and I go to examine them. Please have me excused.’ 20 And another said, ‘I have married a wife, and therefore I cannot come.’  (Luke 14:15-20)

What are some of the reasons people might have for ignoring or dismissing the opportunity to invest in God’s kingdom?

Each of the invitees of this parable had an excuse for not being there.  To be clear, none of their excuses were sinful.  In fact, they were really good things.  Yet the story would have shocked the guests at the table Jesus was sitting at.  Why?  Because hospitality was such a great value, that they would have been unable to believe that anyone would reject such an invitation.

If Christianity is a means to an end, then we may easily find ourselves in a similar position.  If Christianity is a way to happiness, or a way of coping with grief, then we can easily find a variety of other things to serve those needs.  And, if we share the mentality of the Pharisees, we can easily fall into the trap of confusing our prosperity with God’s approval.  Jesus is essentially saying: Don’t assume that because you’ve found success in your work or your marriage that God is pleased with you. No; there’s something greater at stake, a heavenly joy we miss when we settle for earthly happiness.  We’ve placed self-satisfaction as our highest priority, rather than self-surrender and self-sacrifice.  The gospel romances us away from self into the joy of life in God’s kingdom.  Are we willing to accept the invitation?

It was Dallas, Texas where I first encountered “gated communities.”  Large iron gates and fences served to protect housing developments and apartment complexes.  Getting in and out meant you had to “belong” to the community—or at least have an “in” with the residents.

While there’s surely times when such boundaries are appropriate—and necessary—we do Christ’s Church a great disservice when we apply this type of thinking to our church communities—or to society in general.  Because really, we’ve only become increasingly polarized within our world.  Where once we may have found common ground or at least the space for respectful disagreement, now we gravitate toward the extreme positions of either conservative or progressive values, content to clench our fists and raise our voices in an ongoing clash of cultures.

Put a bit differently, we like to think of ourselves as the “in” crowd.  We’re right; the facts are on our side, by golly—so why bother with our neighbors?  And if we’re foolish enough to spiritualize this, then we tend to think that our religious behavior uniquely earns us God’s approval.

Such was the case of the religious leaders of Jesus’ day.  In Luke 24, we find Jesus as a guest of one of the “Pharisees”—a group of religious separatists deeply committed to God’s Law:

One Sabbath, when he went to dine at the house of a ruler of the Pharisees, they were watching him carefully. 2 And behold, there was a man before him who had dropsy. 3 And Jesus responded to the lawyers and Pharisees, saying, “Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath, or not?” 4 But they remained silent. Then he took him and healed him and sent him away. 5 And he said to them, “Which of you, having a son or an ox that has fallen into a well on a Sabbath day, will not immediately pull him out?” 6 And they could not reply to these things. (Luke 14:1-6)

“Dropsy” was a medical condition known for fluid retention and swelling—meaning it would have been caused by either the heart or the kidneys.  Religious leaders of Jesus’ day would have associated such conditions as God’s punishment.  Surely the man must have done something to deserve his misfortune.  Notice how Jesus is the only one speaking in the above verses?  Yet even amid the awkward silences, God is at work.  Jesus brings the point home with two short parables before he gets to his third, longer parable:

7 Now he told a parable to those who were invited, when he noticed how they chose the places of honor, saying to them, 8 “When you are invited by someone to a wedding feast, do not sit down in a place of honor, lest someone more distinguished than you be invited by him, 9 and he who invited you both will come and say to you, ‘Give your place to this person,’ and then you will begin with shame to take the lowest place. 10 But when you are invited, go and sit in the lowest place, so that when your host comes he may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher.’ Then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at table with you. 11 For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.”

12 He said also to the man who had invited him, “When you give a dinner or a banquet, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, lest they also invite you in return and you be repaid. 13 But when you give a feast, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, 14 and you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you. For you will be repaid at the resurrection of the just.” (Luke 14:7-14)

In the ancient world, a disability was essentially a death sentence—unless, of course, you could depend on the care of family or the generosity of strangers.  Jesus appeals to these folks because they could not possibly fulfill any of the usual social contracts.

Jesus’ whole point is this: we can very easily reduce relationships to a series of transactions.  We love people who serve us well, who enable us to climb the social ladder.  Likewise, we tend to distance ourselves from those we view as beneath us, socially speaking.  After all, we have a relationship to uphold.

If, like the Pharisees, you see religion as only a set of moral codes, then this attitude makes perfect sense.  Your “gated community” can be protected and free from the contamination of outsiders.  My right behaviors earn me a place of moral superiority over those I think less of.

Jesus will have none of this.  Sickness and suffering (like the man with dropsy) upset the equilibrium of our safely held beliefs.  What everyone assumed would have been a cause for moral superiority, Jesus turned into a chance for compassion and healing.  In the absence of grace, religion eventually falls apart.  Moral superiority will only carry you so far.  The gospel takes our usual categories and turn them completely upside down.  If I’m accepted by God based on Christ’s performance and not my own, then I can never feel superior.  Why?  Because I am saved by work done for me, not by me.  And I can never feel inferior, because the cross reveals God’s great love for me.

The gospel therefore becomes the key to unlocking the “gates” of my community—starting with my own heart.  The cross provokes me to see life not as a series of social contracts, but as an opportunity for love, for service, and for grace upon grace.

Regarding the topic of our summer series on the Parables of Jesus, a technique of teaching and application I have heard over the years has been to challenge the hearer with this question: Which character in the story do you identify with?

Hopefully you don’t identify with the self-righteous lawyer – the fellow who thinks he has more answers than anyone else and wants to be seen in that light. I have to say that I have found a few of these folks over the years.

It would also not be flattering to be identified as like the first two religious fellows who went over into the passing lane to ignore the person in need.

We might like to be seen as the Samaritan, but how often is it true? The extent of his care and connection was indeed highly expensive by every measure. But as we’ll see, this is the goal.

Perhaps we might be most like the innkeeper. We’ll do the job of caregiving if paid for it or if we benefit personally in some way.

Talk to yourself, or among yourselves if you are studying this in a group.

But this much I can say for sure: We should be able to identify with the victim who fell among the thieves. What the Samaritan did is what Christ has done for us. He found us on the road of life – half dead – with no way of helping ourselves. Men did not help us, religion did nothing to save us, but Christ came to where we are, taking on flesh and humanity. He paid the cost of our sin to bring healing to us through his sacrificial gift.  And now we should possess an attitude of service to do likewise for others with what we possess.

Jesus’ Interpretation

36 “Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”

37 The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”

Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.”

The question the lawyer had asked was one of identity: who is my neighbor?  The question that Jesus asks is one of activity: who acted as a neighbor? Jesus turns it from a noun to a subject/verb.

The lawyer can’t even say the word “Samaritan.”  All he can say is … “the one who showed mercy.”  Jesus acknowledges this and encourages His hearers to do the same.

We need to care for people who are like us – those close – family, etc. This is a primary responsibility to be intentional about the church family.

But beyond that, we need to care for people who are different than us, people who most likely don’t have enough close relationships to help them with their needs – beginning with physical/material things – and beyond to spiritual needs. So we need to be intentional about being on mission in our communities and neighborhoods – the places that, even in a technological age, we have interaction with others who need a relationship with Christ to have success in their lives.

The common denominator for each is looking away from self. This means intentionality, making cognizant plans to live a certain way. But the funny thing is this: when serving others, your own needs are only then truly met in abundance.

I have a ministry friend who is famous for telling stories to illustrate what he is talking about. They are really good. But sometimes it gets a bit old and everyone around sighs with a little bit of a “here we go again” feeling. Abraham Lincoln had a reputation like this as well, always quick with a folksy story to make his point.

That might likely be how the Pharisees felt about Jesus when he went into one of his parables. But truthfully – Jesus could put out about 10 zingers in the time it takes my buddy to get through the details of a single account.

In answer to the question “Who is my neighbor?” – a question the lawyer thought was a hit back over the net at Jesus that would be difficult to answer – Jesus tells this story:

30 In reply Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. 31 A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. 32 So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. 33 But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. 34 He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. 35 The next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’

36 “Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”

37 The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”

Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.”

This story was really going downhill … no, really, it was. Jericho is about 800 feet below sea level, whereas Jerusalem is 2500 feet above it. The distance between the two places was 17 miles. So that is a drop of 200’ per mile. I need a bicycle path like that! 

Beyond this, the road was notorious as one that was plagued with robbers and thieves. There were plenty of places for them to hide in the crooks and crannies and rocks, caves and valleys. So a story about a man being robbed, beaten and left “half dead” would have been very imaginable to these “locals.”

The first to pass him – a priest – clearly sees the man, as he actually “changes lanes” to get around him. The fact that Jerusalem was the center of worship and Jericho the home of as many as half of the priestly order suggests that this cleric was coming from the Temple. This was the equivalent of leaving the church parking lot and seeing someone on the side of the road in need, but passing by on the way to Sunday brunch at Panera Bread.

Offering no specific reason for the priest passing by, Jesus turns the focus now to a second Jewish religious leader. A Levite (family of Levi, but not through Aaron) was responsible for lesser tasks at the Temple. This means that while the same potential laws of defilement applied, his lesser duties made him slightly freer to offer aid if he felt compelled.

The text says that he too passed by on the other side. The wording in the original language would seem to say that he looked more closely – that he saw the man and checked him out before deciding to not get involved and help him.

The fact that both religious officials passed by is a clear indictment of religiosity without compassion – and could not have been lost on this audience as a sort of poke in the eye.

Finally a third man approaches, this time not a religious leader or even a Jew – but a Samaritan – and certainly at this point the listeners thought, “Oh no, the guy is really in trouble now!” We have often shared the centuries-old antagonism that existed between these “dirty half-breeds” and the Jews.

But instead, the Samaritan has mercy on the poor man, caring for him on the spot and making provision for his long-term recovery.

1. He had compassion – the Greek word for compassion speaks of an inner emotion of being deeply stirred and moved. This is how Christ is spoken of as he looked at the unsaved masses of people. It is how God sees us; and in that he first loved us, we are commanded to likewise love others.

2. He made contact – He did not excuse himself with fears that the robbers might be in the area. He did not worry about uncleanness. He did not assume the man was too far gone and beyond ability to be helped. Love sees opportunity and is not undone by the obstacles.

3. He demonstrated care – It is nice to be compassionate and make contact, but the third step is to get involved with demonstrated care that meets real needs.

4. He accepted the cost – There was nothing for him to personally gain from this; he risked much, but was willing to pay the cost. Love is costly; it was costly at the cross, and it costs us to be truly involved in mission and ministry.

In tomorrow’s final section on this passage we will speak of some specific applicational thoughts, but let’s ask some questions for discussion and pondering…

Obviously we cannot help with every need and situation we become aware of, so where should we look to have a practical role in helping human suffering?

When we encounter a person in need – say, a homeless individual – what are the concerns and obstacles that give us pause in terms of immediately helping?

How can we make an encounter with a person in physical/material need to be more than merely that, but to also address spiritual needs and issues?

How can we be a “Good Samaritan sort of neighbor” in an intentional and regular way?

I have some very good and wonderful friends who are lawyers. Yet this profession is sometimes viewed as lower than a used car salesman or even a U.S. Congressman (though to be truthful, many of them are lawyers)! They may even be seen as worse than pastors!

The job of a lawyer is to represent a client favorably (or in the case of a prosecuting attorney, just the opposite) in the light of the law. To do so, one needs to be good with words, with rhetoric and with logic. We might say that he needs to be verbally “slick.”

In the beginning of our text today we have a slick lawyer. Understand that this is a law expert about the law of God as we know it in the Old Testament, so we could think of him as a theological expert. And we know from a host of biblical passages that these “experts” (who were also rabbis divided into groups like the Pharisees and Sadducees) did not like Jesus whatsoever. To them, he was an itinerant, country bumpkin, non-credentialed, unschooled preacher dude who somehow garnered a following of ignorant people who together upset their comfortable status quo. He needed to be taken down a peg.

To discredit Jesus, he needed to be caught in his words by making some blasphemous statement about which they could accuse or prosecute him. And to do this, Jesus is invited into the “big boy” circle of rabbis who discussed fine points of the law in a sort of question and answer format.

Here is the question that the expert puts to Jesus …

25 On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

He gives him a sticky theological question. The essence of it may be more than would appear in simple terms. It is likely inclusive of more than just how a person is in right relationship with God, but beyond that to how one is positioned by the deeds of life to achieve a high inheritance from God in the world beyond. There were varied answers, opinions and emphases in the Jewish world about this subject.

Jesus answers a question with a question, essentially taking back the initiative in this high-level wordsmanship debate…

26 “What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read it?”

27 He answered, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”

The lawyer plays along and answers well by quoting two very well-known passages to Jewish people of the time. There was both a vertical (love God) and horizontal (love man) component in his quotes from Deuteronomy 6:5 and Leviticus 19:18.

28 “You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”

Jesus does not take the bait to argue applications of these passages. As a law expert, the lawyer was certainly part of the community of religious leaders who had many detailed ideas about keeping the Law and obeying it – legalistic details that set them up as the most exemplary people of the time. Jesus just affirms the words of the Word – obey this and you will be fine with God.

The lawyer is understandably embarrassed; he had just been “schooled” by this itinerant, non-credentialed country teacher and had his own authority turned upside down by Jesus’ probing questions.

Therefore when the text says he wishes to “justify” himself, it seems very likely that he was seeking to salvage his reputation or to “get the last word in.”  So he asks the question, “Who is my neighbor?”

29 But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

His actual question should have been, “What am I to do, because I cannot love God perfectly, and I cannot love my neighbor as much as I love myself?”  And this would have led to a presentation of the Gospel … but …

The lawyer’s intent was to discover what the minimum requirements were – how to define love’s parameters by linking religious duty with personal identity. It is this assumption that Jesus’ parable so directly challenges.

Before we go on to tomorrow’s portion of the passage that is the actual parable, let’s sort of sit in a circle like the rabbis did and ask a few questions …

What are some self-righteous ideas and beliefs that some people have about how they think themselves to be in good standing with God?

What does it mean to love God with all of one’s heart, soul and mind? Does this not sound something like a sort of works salvation?

What does it mean to love one’s neighbor as one’s own self? Can this truly be done?