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What Is a Person?
Linda McKinnish Bridges

With recent studies in cultural anthropology, we can try to view life from the perspective of the ancient writer and listener. The culture of Jesus’ day held very different social values than ours today. The categories of Honor/Shame, Clean/Unclean, Individual/Corporate help us understand the unique first-century world of this parable.

A person was always trying to achieve honor or keep from losing it, "saving one’s face." Jesus gains greater honor by having the last word in the verbal game of challenge with the lawyer. In the ancient world, notions of cleanliness and purity were more important than in our culture today. The first-century Jewish reader would have despised the Samaritans not only for their racial distinction but also for their impure social station. The early readers were conditioned by their culture to see groups of people, not individuals. The "Good Samaritan" challenged their corporate versus individual stereotypes.

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What is occurring between Jesus and the lawyer beyond the obvious layer of words? Their verbal "volley" gives a clue to a cultural value of the ancient world, termed by social anthropologists as honor/shame. The competition for honor in ancient societies was pervasive. It motivated much of one’s behavior. A person was always trying to achieve honor or keep from losing it, "saving one’s face."

Jesus’ verbal skill and his ability to respond to the lawyer establish him in the eyes of the first-century reader as one who is honorable. Jesus, the honorable and authoritative teacher, saves face. He gains greater honor by having the last word in the verbal game of challenge.

In the ancient world, notions of cleanliness and purity were more important than in our culture today. Priests and Levites were at the top of the purity list. The Samaritans did not even make the list. The first-century Jewish reader would have despised the Samaritans not only for their racial distinction but also for their social station and vocational choice. The fact that the Samaritan in the parable possesses oil, wine, and considerable funds seems to indicate that he was a trader, a despised occupation. Traders were probably disliked because they made a living at the expense of others; they were considered thieves. Traders also frequented inns, which had bad reputations.

In an unusual twist to the story, the first-century listener may have had more sympathy for the bandits than the other characters. Perhaps the bandits had been the oppressed folk of society who were left homeless because the elite landowners had demanded their land.

The early readers were conditioned by their culture to see groups of people, not individuals. This parable must have shocked these readers because it forced them to disregard "pack thinking." It challenged their corporate versus individual stereotypical responses.

This parable demands that the reader listen for an individual response to the pain and suffering of another individual. The Samaritan acts alone; he does not follow the image of a despised trader traveling on the road.

Whether the listener lives in the first or the twentieth century, the parable elicits unexpected behavior from the listener. Commitment to go against the grain of society always has a cost. The first-century peasant had to pay for such a life of faithfulness, and the twentieth-century listener should expect no less.

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When interpreting the parable of the Good Samaritan, it is not enough just to know the history of Samaria, the width of the Jericho road, or the temple responsibilities of the Levites. Although a simple rehearsal of historical data is important for interpretation, it cannot fully describe the personality or world-view of the first-century writer or listener. Another view of the first-century world is required. The inquiring interpreter wants to know: What type of anthropological perspective was common in ancient social worlds? How did Luke’s audience perceive the social role of the Samaritan, the Levite, the priest? What social roles were acknowledged, and what social roles were subverted in the parable? Contemporary scholars working in a recent and uncommon arena for New Testament scholarship are analyzing texts from a cultural anthropological perspective. With this new and exciting information, we can try to view life from the perspective of the ancient writer and listener rather than imposing our anachronistic twentieth-century social values on the expectations of this ancient parable.

Using especially the work of Bruce Malina and Jerome Neyrey, we can examine the parable of the Good Samaritan from three social anthropological areas: Honor/Shame, Clean/Unclean, Individual/Corporate. With these polarities in focus, we will be able to more sharply define the meaning of the Good Samaritan parable for the first-century reader and thereby increase our understanding of its contemporary meaning.

First, notice the initial discussion between the lawyer and Jesus, the teacher ( Luke 10.25–30). Most modern readers tend to quickly move over the first few verses in order to find the parable itself. To linger awhile at this moment of social interaction, however, is the goal of the social anthropologist. It is here, particularly in conversation, that the trained eye can discover important clues and explore the social worlds of the conversationalists.

This debate between the lawyer and the teacher has important significance when read through the cultural lens of first-century eyes. Jesus the teacher is being challenged to a verbal volley by a lawyer. The lawyer asks a question. Jesus responds by asking the lawyer a question. The lawyer then responds to Jesus’ question. Jesus responds to the lawyer’s answer. Then the lawyer asks another question, and Jesus responds with a parable. The question and answer volley begins to slow down and finally culminates in a powerful story that silences the lawyer.

But how do first-century readers hear it? What kind of interpersonal reactions are occurring between Jesus and the lawyer beyond the obvious layer of words? The verbal game of challenge and riposte gives a clue to a cultural phenomenon of the ancient world, termed by social anthropologists as honor/shame. The competition for honor in ancient societies is pervasive; it establishes motivation and intent for much of one’s behavior. A person is always trying to achieve honor or keep from losing it, graphically called saving one’s face. The goal of achieving honor is seen in all relationships—from the home to the marketplace. This social phenomenon did not occur only in ancient Mediterranean countries; it can also be seen today in countries such as China, as well as in the southern United States. Malina labels the game of challenge-riposte as a central feature of the honor/shame social construct:

In this competition the game of challenge-riposte is a central phenomenon and is always played in public. It consists of a challenge (almost any word, gesture, or action) that seeks to undermine the honor of another person and a response that answers in equal measure or ups the ante and thereby challenges in return. Both positive (gifts, compliments) and negative (insults, dares) challenges must be answered to avoid a serious loss of face (Malina and Rohrbaugh, Social-Science Commentary, 307).

Jesus does well in this parable, just as one would expect of the central character in the Gospel narrative. Jesus’ verbal skill and his ability to respond to the lawyer establish him in the eyes of the first-century reader as one who is honorable. Jesus, the honorable and authoritative teacher, saves face and gains greater honor by having the last word in the game of challenge/riposte. Notice in verse 37 how the lawyer is silenced by the parable, when nothing remains for him to say.

Second, observe the central characters in the parable. The man who is traveling and becomes a victim. A priest who silently passes the victim, and then a Levite who also passes by. A Samaritan comes next and attends to the victim, treats his wounds, and pays money for lodging so that the victim can rest and recover. We find the characters interesting but quite removed from our culture. But when we discover some interesting historical feature, such as the history of the Samaritan race or the roles and responsibilities of the Levite and priest, we begin to bridge the gap. But the basic question surfaces: How would a first-century person have read this story? With whom would the ancient reader have identified? Are other social worlds intimated between the lines that a surface historical presentation would not have uncovered?

Social anthropologists look for what is not so obvious in biblical texts. The idea is that society often prescribes roles, but the reality is found not in the manual but in the daily life of the social group. To live in first-century Palestine meant that you had lots of "maps"—not simply road maps for traveling but cultural maps that revealed social parameters and boundaries. Maps, in the sense of laws and social conventions, were an important part of the culture, and they provided clear rules for public and private propriety. We have them today both formally and informally. Culture maps often give direction as to whom you will marry, in what neighborhood you will live, where you will attend church, etc. In the ancient world, these prescribed notions of propriety were more numerous and more strongly enforced.

In the Torah map of people, the priests and Levites were at the top of the purity list. The Samaritans did not even make the list. Priests and Levites had to carefully follow the cultic cleanliness code. They were to avoid touching corpses unless it was a member of their immediate family ( Ezek 44.25). Because of their particular social station and their careful attention to the Jewish cleanliness code, they were the good guys on the Torah map.

The bad guys, of course, were the Samaritans. One strike against them was their race. The Samaritans were a despised people, as the Mishnah attests. Little attention is given to them in the Gospel narratives, and when they are present, it seems to be an intentional inclusion ( John 4, for example). The first-century Jewish reader would have despised the Samaritans not only for their racial distinction but also for their social station and vocational choice. The fact that the Samaritan in the parable possesses oil, wine, and considerable funds seems to indicate that he was a trader, a despised occupation. Traders were probably disliked because they made a living at the expense of others; they were considered thieves. Traders also frequented inns, which likewise had bad reputations.

With whom, then, does the first-century reader of Luke’s Gospel relate? We know that successful readers identify a character in the story with whom common experiences or shared goals can be established. Readers approach the parable with a particular world-view belonging to their station in life. If they are peasants, perhaps they are not impressed with the ones at the top of the Torah map, because these agrarian folk, or the common people of Jewish society, have difficulty keeping the cleanliness codes of their tradition. They are not as keen on observing dietary laws or special temple requirements as their city counterparts. So, the Jewish peasant would probably not have identified with the Levite or with the priest. Nor would sympathy have been extended to the Samaritan, because he represented the despised traders, who often took goods from peasants at low prices, sold them to others at high prices, and kept all the profit for themselves. The sympathy of the peasant who listened to this story would not have gone to the Samaritan.

In an unusual twist to the story, and one that is certainly foreign to our thinking, the listener may have had the greatest sympathy for the bandits (Malina and Rohrbaugh, 347). Perhaps the bandits had been the oppressed folk of society who were left homeless because the elite landowners had demanded their land.

Social banditry is a phenomenon that is nearly universal in agrarian societies in which peasants and landless laborers are exploited by a ruling elite that siphons off most of the economic surplus they produce. Persons driven off the land by debt or violence or social chaos of any sort resort to brigandage, in which the elite are the primary victims…Moreover, such bandits usually have the support of the local peasantry, who sometimes risk their own lives to harbor them (Malina and Rohrbaugh, 404).

When illuminated by the social anthropologists, the surprise of the story is that the readers had greatest sympathy not for the victim but for the bandits. If that is true, then the social world of the reader was inverted, turned upside down, when the despised trader, who is also a Samaritan, provides aid to the victim and becomes the hero of the parable.

The world of the parable cannot be separated from the world of the first-century A.D. with its peculiar social codes of honor and shame, religious conventions dealing with clean and unclean people, and finally with a general view of corporate personality. The third component necessary for establishing a social anthropological view of the parable of the Good Samaritan is to understand the overall impact of this story and its demands on the readers.

The early readers were conditioned by their cultural framework to see groups of people, not individuals. This parable must have shocked these readers because it forced them to disregard "pack thinking," and it challenged the stereotypical responses. In other words, not only does the force of the parable go against the accepted social codes, such as bad Samaritans becoming good heroes, but it also challenges the entire understanding of personality by requiring the reader to stand outside the group and make commitments to compassion, even when the rest of the group has chosen not to do so. With its individualistic force, this parable subverts the corporate understanding of personality in the first century.

Let me try to explain. The reader of Luke’s Gospel would have what social anthropologists describe as a dyadic personality—"an individual who perceives himself (sic) and forms his (sic) self-image in terms of what others perceive and feed back to him" (Malina, The New Testament World, 55). Malina continues to describe the reader of Luke’s Gospel:

He feels a need of others for his very psychological existence, since the image he has of himself must agree with the image formulated and presented by significant others, by members of significant and person-sustaining groups like family, village, even city and nation (55).

Individualism or attempts to break away from the pack are discouraged. Responsibility for morality is not on an individual alone, but on the social body, the group in which the individual is embedded. Furthermore, "conditions under which it would be advantageous to know people well as individuals are left out of cultural focus, so to say. For if one had to know other individuals very well, it would mean that people were idiosyncratic, inconstant, moody, devious, changeable, and unpredictable" (59).

The demands of the parable, however, are in direct contradiction to the social world of the dyadic personality. This parable of the Good Samaritan demands that the reader listen for an individual response to the pain and suffering of another individual. For the Samaritan acts alone; he does not follow the stereotypical pattern of a despised trader traveling on the road. The Samaritan has not followed the prescribed behavior of the social group of Samaritans as dictated by the Jewish peasant listener.

The parable, likewise, calls loudly to the reader: Change your perspective. Don’t follow the social script, leave the majority, act on individual impulse, break away from the expectations of the group that would tell you that Samaritans are bad and bandits are oppressed. The parable forces the reader to make an individual response and to go against the grain of the social expectations of the group.

Whatever particular tack of interpretation the reader may take for this parable, one point cannot be overlooked. The parable elicits unexpected behavior from the listener, whether the listener lives in the first or the twentieth century. Commitment to go against the grain of societal expectations always costs. The first-century peasant had to pay for such a life of faithfulness, and the twentieth-century listener should expect no less.