As I alluded to at the end of the last essay, we are at a turning point in this series, when we begin to turn from an extended critique of “effective” Christianity, and towards a vision of a politics of charity. In doing so, Hauerwas beautifully lays out two stories from the Gospels, and links them together in a breathtaking way to make the following case:
“What charity requires is not the removing of all injustice in the world, but rather meeting the need of the neighbor where we find him.”
Meeting the need of the neighbor where we find him. Here we find not just the center of Hauerwas’ argument in this chapter, but the center of the Gospel message. To show us what meeting the need looks like, Hauerwas gives us a passage from the Gospel of Luke that encompasses two stories: Jesus’ telling of the Parable of the Good Samaritan, and the story of Mary and Martha. I’ll follow his lead and post the verses in full here:
On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” “What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read it?” 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.’” “You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”
But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” 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. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. 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. 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.’ “Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?” The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.” Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.”
As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!” “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”
Luke 10:25-42, NIV
Hauerwas draws a remarkable link between these two seemingly very different stories: “This is just our task, to go and do as the Samaritan did, for it is through such doing, a doing that may appear remarkably ineffective like Mary’s inactivity, that God shows us how to serve the neighbor in a manner appropriate to his kingdom.”
This is a stunning conclusion, and just really showcases how good of a theologian Hauerwas is. Often, these two stories are disconnected, held on their own as separate tales with separate messages. But Hauerwas here maintains the integrity of the Gospel, reading them as the first readers would, without headers and verse numbers and paragraph breaks. Indeed, they are stories that feed off one another. Let us unpack the linkage a bit more, to try to more fully get at the power of the point Hauerwas is making.
Every Christian is familiar with the story of the Good Samaritan; it is a staple of church life in America. Often, it is a story presented as an example of how we are to serve our neighbors, even those we don’t know or may be inclined to dislike. In more progressive circles, it also carries the added valence of a social and ethnic criticism, as we see the “respectable” figures of the priest and the Levite turning their nose, but the foreign Samaritan filling the role of the Savior here. I don’t think there is anything wrong or bad about these readings. They are quite honorable distillations of Christ’s intent.
That said, what Hauerwas draws out is fascinating, and makes his larger point well. Remember, this series, like the chapter it draws from, is about the juxtaposition Hauerwas makes, between the politics of charity and the politics of effectiveness. So how does this dichotomy come into play here? By including the story of Mary and Martha, we can see how. Mary gets criticized by Martha for not helping Martha prepare the dinner for their guest; Jesus, however, redirects Martha’s anger, reminding her that all the trappings and duties society and the world places on her as hostess are of little import in God’s kingdom. What he needs it not her skills in preparing a meal and presenting a home. Effectiveness, Jesus says, is not the point. Discipleship is.
So, too, in the Good Samaritan. Read through the lens of the antecedent story, we see here another example of discipleship as charity, as ineffective action, over effective. In the story, while the Samaritan is good and correct to take the man to an inn, to care for his wounds and pay for expenses, wouldn’t he also be obligated in some way to address an injustice, to ask questions as to why this happened, why this stretch of road is treacherous? Where are the authorities? How can the local society address the problem of rampant crime and the attendant fear?
To my mind comes the story of the man who, working alongside a river, sees a baby floating down from upriver. He saves the baby from certain drowning, only to see another, and another. Saving the babies is good, the parable tells us, but the man must then go up river, to stop whoever is throwing babies in. Justice demands it.
And that’s right! Justice does! We would be foolish to ignore the cause of something as shocking and heinous as that! But what about in this story of the Good Samaritan? Why does the Samaritan, in all of the time taking care of the man, never ask, “how did this happen? Who is responsible?” Instead, the Samaritan pays the innkeeper and goes on with his business.
To extrapolate this story out to the dilemma of justice and injustice in the world, it becomes natural to ask the question, if we see injustice, how do we stop it? If we are called to be the Samaritan (and obviously Jesus intends that we are), then what must our actions be? Surely, saving and tending to the hurt, yes, but aren’t we also called to go further, to identify the injustice, and then set about the hard, concrete work of fixing it?
Per Hauerwas’ reading of these stories, I don’t think we always are in every situation. Instead, seemingly ineffective action can become our duty as disciples. Think back to Hauerwas’ summary statement, and specifically the last clause:
“God shows us how to serve the neighbor in a manner appropriate to his kingdom.”
Appropriate to his kingdom. That is the key. Yes, pursuing structural justice is a natural inclination. But, I think one of the things we are to learn here is that, as disciples of Christ, as members of the community called the Church, that isn’t our primary task, because God’s effectiveness is not the world’s effectiveness
God’s effectiveness looks like stopping, showing compassion, caring for the hurting, not at an abstract level, but at the most intimate and personal of levels, in the blood and dirt and muck of the world. We don’t know that that priest or that Levite, after going on their way, didn’t then think “We need safer roads; I will work to make it so.” It’s very possible one of them might have! But what neither of them did was stop, and care.
One thing that is important to remember is that our focus on large policy fixes to problems we see in the world can often serve just as effectively as ways to insulate ourselves from the really hard work of loving our neighbor, not in some abstract way, but face-to-face, in a manner that is costly to us. Worldly effectiveness can shield us from the messy relationship-building that charity would demand of us.
What this story is telling us, as shocking and scandalous as it may seem, is that the charity we are called to as followers of Christ is the work of caring for one another, for showing our love to our fellow beings in our willingness to stop, notice, and heal when we see a hurt or a wrong.
Still, you may be asking, what about all that injustice in the world? No one can deny it, and surely we aren’t called to ignore it, right? I agree, we are not. So how do we adapt the work of charity, of stopping and loving and spending the time with another human being, into something that can address the injustices of the world? That’s where we turn next.
Justin DaMetz 