Because He Wished to Justify Himself

The parable of the Good Samaritan is probably the most well-known and beloved of Jesus’ parables. It appears in the lectionary every three years and is often referenced to call on Christians to show mercy to those who are hurting and victimized. Pope Francis referenced the parable in his February 2025 letter to Catholic Bishops in the United States regarding immigration. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr spoke about the parable at a sanitation worker strike in Memphis, Tennessee in 1968. 

Yet I think this passage from Luke’s gospel offers something that is often overlooked when we focus solely on the drama of the man attacked by bandits on Jericho road, the priest and Levite who kept their distance, and the Samaritan who responded with compassion and care. If we read the full pericope - Luke 10:25-37Behold, a certain lawyer stood up and tested him, saying, "Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?"He said to him, "What is written in the law? How do you read it?"He answered, "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself."He said to him, "You have answered correctly. Do this, and you will live."But he, desiring to justify himself, asked Jesus, "Who is my neighbor?"Jesus answered, "A certain man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and he fell among robbers, who both stripped him and beat him, and departed, leaving him half dead.By chance a certain priest was going down that way. When he saw him, he passed by on the other side.In the same way a Levite also, when he came to the place, and saw him, passed by on the other side.But a certain Samaritan, as he traveled, came where he was. When he saw him, he was moved with compassion,came to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. He set him on his own animal, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him.On the next day, when he departed, he took out two denarii, and gave them to the host, and said to him, 'Take care of him. Whatever you spend beyond that, I will repay you when I return.'Now which of these three do you think seemed to be a neighbor to him who fell among the robbers?"He said, "He who showed mercy on him." Then Jesus said to him, "Go and do likewise." - it’s clear this is a story within a story, and that outer story has something power to offer us, too. 

Jesus shares the parable in an encounter with a scholar of the law who approaches him with the question of how to inherit eternal life. As he so often does, Jesus answers the question with a question, prompting the scholar to refer to these words from the law of Moses: “You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your being, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.” Jesus affirms the scholar’s response, but the conversation doesn’t answer there. The scholar presses on.

It is rare in the Gospels that we are explicitly told about a character’s motivations, emotional complexity, or inner world. But that is just what happens in verse 29: “But because he wished to justify himself, he asked, ‘who is my neighbor?’ 

Luke wants to make it clear: this scholar is not asking a sincere question. The Greek verb translated here as “to test him” is actually the same one used for Satan’s tempting of Jesus in the desert. This scholar isn’t inquiring in good faith. He isn’t honestly trying to come to greater personal clarity about his ethical obligations rooted in religious beliefs. Luke paints a pretty unsympathetic portrait of this guy: “I’m a scholar, I know my stuff and I already have things figured out, thank you very much.”

But, though it’s a very uncomfortable thought, I wonder if a similarly unsympathetic portrait could be painted of me, and maybe of a lot of us, in how we seek to justify ourselves. I will confess that at times I see a post on social media that presents a position I disagree with. Immediately there is a chorus of voices within me - criticizing the idea, how it’s presented, who is presenting it. My internal monologue says something like, “They’re wrong, I’m right, and that’s really terrible Ugh!” (Okay, if I am really being honest, sometimes the language of my inner monologue is saltier than that.)

And the emotional experience in that moment is a cocktail of disgust, contempt, anger, annoyance, with a heavy sprinkling of self-righteous indignation. I’m guessing I’m not the only one to have tasted this cocktail when presented with something I find offensive. And it’s more challenging when I encounter ideas I find distasteful off the screen - in conversations and other face-to-face interactions. 

Of course, when we see or hear something cruel or dehumanizing, it is good and right and understandable that we have a strong emotional response. That can be a sign that our conscience is at work, spurring us to discern how to make a virtuous response. 

But this mechanism gets complicated in a world where we are constantly deluged by information, especially when you factor in AI-generated deep fakes, widely shared fake news, over sensationalized clickbait headlines, and other such parts of the 21st century media landscape. What is more is that this material is endlessly served up to us by algorithms designed to push our emotional buttons, using data harvested to present us content that will either delight and affirm us or that will disgust and anger us, with not much in between. 

This environment makes it awfully hard to behave ethically and to love God with all our heart, being, strength, and mind - especially with our mind. This ancient teaching to love God with all our mind - articulated in the Torah, repeated by the scholar in his conversation with Jesus, and passed down over so many centuries - is perhaps more relevant today than ever before. It has challenging implications for the way I gather information, process it, consider its value, and discern if it means something to me. 

Jesuit Father Dean Brackley, writing about discernment, noted that “clear perception… requires cognitive hygiene…it requires untangling the habits of our hearts and ordering our commitments.” Cognitive hygiene - it’s rather like the thought equivalent of brushing our teeth or taking a shower, something we need to engage in on a regular basis to stay well. 

Contemporary psychology sheds more light on this challenge. Psychologists refer to the phenomenon of “myside bias:” the tendency to “evaluate evidence, generate evidence, and test hypotheses in a manner biased toward their own prior opinions and attitudes.” I’m more likely to take in and remember information that reinforces beliefs I already hold. Information that appears to refute what I already think? Well, that just isn’t going to stick in my brain the same way. As much as I want to think of myself as 100% rational and logical, taking in information in a neutral and astute way, psychological research continually points out that this just isn’t how human minds work. 

When I look at the scientific reality of myside bias in the light of Christian faith, it seems to call forth two significant virtues: courage and humility, which are both necessary in order to honestly ask myself the questions: “where might I be mistaken? What information might I not have considered? What voices haven’t I heard on a given topic? How do my own personal identity markers, emotional wounds, and life experiences color my vision of this particular issue? What blind spots might I have that I’m not aware of?”

And these are hard questions to ask. If I modify my position on a particular issue, will others see me as a hypocrite or a flip flopper or a sellout? And even beyond the interpersonal risks, reconsidering my opinions and beliefs can feel existentially threatening. Who even am I if I am not someone who takes this particular stand on a certain social issue, if I am not a member of this political party, if I am not a part of this group that holds this set of opinions? 

Sunk cost fallacy is the term used to describe the cognitive bias of continuing on a particular path - investing resources, time, and energy into it - even when it isn’t bearing fruit. So we double-down on choices that don’t serve us and don’t serve what we say we value because changing course would mean admitting and acknowledging the loss, perhaps facing embarrassment and the judgment of others. If I hold a particular point of view and invest so much in it, there is real grief and loss with letting that point of view shift and evolve, or even change radically. It’s no wonder human beings are so prone to making idols of our own assumptions and seem unable to take in information that is staring us plainly in the face. 

Maybe the scholar in Luke’s gospel isn’t such an unsympathetic character after all. Can’t we all relate to wanting to justify ourselves and whatever conclusions we have reached? Don’t we all want to build a cushion of reassurance around ourselves confirming that we’re right and good, and they (whoever they are) are wrong and bad?

And this is why the scholar in the story really turns out to be a hero. Jesus’ encounter with him changes him and he gets it. He comes to new insight. He is changed. We can almost see the lightbulb appearing over his head when he answers Jesus’ question of which of the three men in the story was neighbor: “the one who showed mercy.” Somehow the scholar had the courage and humility to really listen to Jesus’ story and be moved. He had ears to hear. And he was able to overcome the baked-in biases of his cultural and religious training to recognize that even the most despised of outsiders - Samaritans - can be a neighbor. He had let go of the desire to justify himself and had been transformed by the renewing of his mind. Jesus responds to his insight with a commissioning: “go and do likewise.” The change in the scholar’s thinking through listening to Jesus immediately points towards a change in behavior.

So in the story-within-a-story, we have two happy endings: the wounded man is shown mercy and offered care. The suspicious scholar undergoes a change of mind and heart. Metanoia happens. What about me? What about you? What about us?