Big Idea: True discipleship cannot be undertaken casually; the service of God demands all that we can bring to it.

Understanding the Text

In 17:11 Luke reminds us that Jesus and his disciples are still on the journey to Jerusalem. Much of the journey narrative (9:51–19:44) consists of teaching given to the disciples. In the last few chapters this has largely taken the form of parables, and we will return to parables at the beginning of chapter 18. But in this section we find four separate units of teaching (17:1–2, 3–4, 5–6, 7–10), loosely connected in that all relate to the nature and demands of discipleship, followed by a brief exemplary story. The story involves a Samaritan, whose action, like that of the good Samaritan in 10:30–37, shows up the failure of the Jews in the story and so reinforces Luke’s insistent challenge to accepted social conventions.

Historical and Cultural Background

For “leprosy” and the ritual associated with its cleansing, see on 5:12–26. For relations between Jews and Samaritans, see on 9:37–56; the term “foreigner” (lit., “of another race/kind”) in 17:18 underlines the ethnic and religious divide. The remarkable situation here of a single Samaritan being in a group with nine Jews in this border region must presumably be accounted for by the dire situation of those ostracized because of their disease; ethnic prejudice has given way to the camaraderie of suffering and social exclusion.

There are echoes in 17:11–17 of the healing of Naaman (to which allusion has already been made in 4:27), a foreigner with leprosy, healed with a word, cured as he went away, and returning to offer thanks (2 Kings 5).

Interpretive Insights

17:1 Things that cause people to stumble. The word skandalon (lit., “stumbling block, trap”) occurs often especially in Matthew to denote causes of spiritual failure, whether temporary or complete. The RSV translated it as “temptation to sin,” but that is too limited. A disciple may be damaged spiritually by unkindness or malicious gossip (or even by simply being ignored) as well as by temptation and bad example. To be the cause of another person’s spiritual failure is so serious that a quick drowning would be a merciful alternative to the judgment that it incurs.

17:2 one of these little ones. The reference is not only to children, though of course it includes them. For God’s people as “little children,” compare 10:21. In Matthew 18:6–14 (and 10:42) disciples are “little ones” and are to be treated with special consideration. In the kingdom of God the “little ones” are the ones who really matter. See above on 9:47–48.

17:3 So watch yourselves. This clause could be either the conclusion of 17:1–2 or the introduction to 17:3–4 (there is no “so” in the Greek text).

If your brother or sister sins against you. As in 6:41–42, the context indicates that the “brother or sister” is not just an actual family member, but more generally a fellow disciple. The best Greek manuscripts do not have “against you” here, but since it does occur in 13:4, it is probable that the thought throughout is of personal offense rather than a more objective awareness that a fellow disciple has gone astray. The “rebuke” is in context not a self-righteous condemnation but rather a realistic pointing out of the offense with a view to reconciliation. Once the rebuke has been effective in producing repentance, forgiveness is not an option but a duty.

17:4 seven times in a day. The partial parallel in Matthew 18:21–22 makes it clear that this is not meant to be a specific limitation (seven, but no more) but instead a round number for unlimited forgiveness. A later rabbinic discussion concluded that three times was enough (b. Yoma 86b–87a).

17:5 Increase our faith! The imperative verb could be translated simply as “give,” but the focus on smallness in 17:6 probably supports the sense “add to” (i.e., “increase”).

17:6 faith as small as a mustard seed. For the mustard seed as a proverbially tiny amount (seven hundred seeds in one gram, according to one expert), see on 13:18–19. This response therefore brushes aside the request for increased faith: it is not the “amount” of faith that matters, but the power of the God in whom that faith is placed.

you can say to this mulberry tree. The Greek clause is indefinite, “you could say,” which may imply that they do not have even this minimal amount of faith yet. Or perhaps the indefinite formulation is to draw attention to the exaggerated example chosen: “You could say, but of course you would not.” To uproot a mulberry tree and plant it in the sea by a mere word (in itself a rather pointless, if spectacular, exercise) represents doing what is humanly impossible.

17:7–10 We are unworthy servants; we have only done our duty. The NIV’s regular use of “servant” for the Greek word for “slave” has unfortunately reduced the impact of this little parable. If the behavior depicted on the part of the master in 17:7 is socially unthinkable with a (hired) “servant,” how much more so with a (wholly owned) slave! (That was the point of the similar imagery in 12:37.) A slave, however tired he may be, does as he is told and expects no thanks for it. This may seem a bleak model for discipleship: is our God a slave driver? But the point is that the best we can do is still less than what we owe to God as our sovereign Lord; there is no place for preening and complacency in discipleship. “Unworthy” could also be translated “useless”; the same word is used in Matthew 25:30 for the slave who gained no profit for his master. We can never put God in our debt. Compare a similar saying by Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakkai: “If you have worked hard in keeping the Torah, do not claim merit for yourself, since that is what you were created for” (m. ’Abot 2:8).

17:11 along the border between Samaria and Galilee. In 9:51–56 Jesus had tried to set off through Samaria. If Luke’s travel narrative represents only a single journey, he seems to envisage Jesus now following instead the traditional route for Galilean Jewish pilgrims to festivals in Jerusalem, which skirted Samaria and went down the east side of the Jordan, recrossing to the west bank at Jericho (where he will arrive in 18:35).

17:12 They stood at a distance. This is what would be expected, rather than the boldly unconventional approach of the man with leprosy in 5:12. They did not approach Jesus, and this time we are not told that he touched them. As in 7:7, a word of healing was enough.

17:14 as they went, they were cleansed. Here we see another difference from the previous curing of leprosy. In that case, the healing was instant, and the command to go to the priest followed. To set off for Jerusalem (see on 5:14) before the healing was visible suggests a remarkable faith in Jesus’s power and the reliability of his word.

17:16 He threw himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him. Now that the disease is cured, the man can be declare “clean.” His gratitude to the healer is natural, even though Jesus will correctly attribute the praise rather to his Father (17:18).

17:18 Has no one returned to give praise to God except this foreigner? Presumably the priest to whom he, as a Samaritan, must show himself would be in Samaria, not in Jerusalem, hence his separation from the other nine. Samaritans worshiped the same God, but Jews did not expect them to be truly pious. But this Samaritan, like the Gentile army officer (7:9), has shown faith that puts Israel to shame.

17:19 your faith has made you well. This formula is often a “performative utterance,” but not here, since the cure of the ten has already taken place, all of them presumably through similar “faith.” But this man’s overt praise of God is evidence of a spiritual health that Jews would not expect to find in a Samaritan.

Theological Insights

Each of the four sayings in 17:1–10 has a different focus. Some key insights are as follows.

1. The centrality of repentance and forgiveness. A saving relationship to God depends on our repentance and his forgiveness (3:3; 5:32; 13:3–5; 15:7, 10; 24:47; and note especially the parable of the lost son [15:11–32]), but here we see also the ethical implications, in that we are equally obliged to forgive each other in response to repentance, to “be merciful, just as your Father is merciful” (6:36).

2. Faith and miracle. Jesus’s dismissal of the request to “increase” faith disallows the notion that we can contribute (by the quantity of our faith) to what is God’s work, not ours. Everything is possible to those who call on God’s power, but that does not mean that the person who prays has carte blanche, irrespective of the suitability of what is prayed for.

3. The danger of spiritual pride. The medieval idea of “works of supererogation” was fundamentally wrong. There is nothing that “goes beyond” our duty to God (not even the Samaritan’s return to give thanks), and therefore there is no place for spiritual pride and self-satisfaction.

The story of the grateful Samaritan is a further contribution to Luke’s ongoing portrayal of God’s concern for the outsider and the presence of grace in the most unlikely places. See “Teaching the Text” below for more on this.

Teaching the Text

The sayings of 17:1–10 raise several pastoral issues that should be considered in a lesson or sermon:

What sort of “stumbling blocks” to another’s discipleship might Jesus have had in mind? What are examples of people whose Christian journey has been derailed by what other Christians have done or said (or not done or said)? Are there things in our own lives, individually or corporately, of which Jesus would say, “Watch yourselves” (17:3)?

Discuss the damage that results from an unforgiving attitude. Why do we find it so hard to forgive? It might help to draw attention to the parable that explores this issue in Matthew 18:23–35, and to the relevant clause in the Lord’s Prayer (Matt. 6:12; Luke 11:4). If repentance is a prerequisite of forgiveness, what do we do with someone who is apparently unrepentant?

Is 17:6 an encouragement to “adventurous” praying? Are there limitations that should be observed? How should we seek to encourage those who feel they do not have the faith to “expect great things from God”?

Does 17:7–10 mean we can never relax in our service for God? Is there a danger of discouragement through feeling that we can never do enough? Why may Jesus have felt it necessary to make this point about always being “useless slaves”?

The story of the ten lepers is often taught as a lesson on gratitude. Only one man returned to thank Jesus and we should act with similar gratitude. While this is certainly one point, in the context of Luke’s Gospel (and Acts) the parable’s greater message centers on the fact that this gratitude is shown by an “outsider,” a Samaritan rather than a Jew. In the overall scheme of Luke-Acts, the self-righteous in Israel reject the gospel, while outsiders receive it—sinners, tax-collectors, and eventually, Gentiles. In this sense the story parallels 7:36–50, where the sinful woman who anointed Jesus’s feet shows more love than Simon the Pharisee because she has received much greater forgiveness.

On the fact that the man is a Samaritan, remind listeners of Luke’s other references to Samaritans (9:51–56; 10:30–37; Acts 8:4–25), and contrast them with Matthew’s only such reference (Matt. 10:5). Why was this theme so important to Luke? There are at least two important reasons. First, the Samaritans—like sinners, tax collectors, lepers, prostitutes, and other outsiders—are among the “lost” that Jesus came to save (19:10). Second, in Acts, Luke’s second volume, the proclamation of the gospel in Samaria (Acts 1:8; 8:4–8) is essential for the outward expansion of the good news. Luke’s Gospel is quintessentially the “gospel for the outsider.”

Illustrating the Text

It is a serious matter to be the cause of a fellow disciple’s failure.

Film: Days of Wine and Roses, directed by Blake Edwards. This film (1962), though not a Christian one, shows powerfully the horror of leading someone astray and then being unable to restore them. In this well-acted film, Joe Clay, an alcoholic, falls in love with a beautiful girl, Kirsten, who is pure-hearted and loving. Soon, he begins to tempt her to drink with him.

After they marry, she gradually is drawn into the drinking because she wants to be with him, and his addiction is separating them. It is only a matter of time before both of them begin to spiral downward. Finally, Joe hits rock bottom, submits his life to a path of addiction recovery, realizes the terrible thing that he has done, and sets about trying to get Kirsten help. At the end of the movie, she is not on the path of healing. This is a chilling metaphor for the seriousness of prompting another’s failure.

We should be ready to forgive someone who is truly repentant.

Anecdote: The Gift of Peace, by Cardinal Bernardin. In these personal reflections (published in 1997) as he was dying of pancreatic cancer, the devout Chicago cardinal Bernardin (1928–96) tells about being falsely accused by a troubled young man, Steven. Bernardin, full of compassion, reaches out to him and hears his repentance and says a mass for him, noting, “In every family there are times when there is hurt, anger, or alienation. But we cannot run away from our family. We have only one family. . . . So, too, the Church is our spiritual family. Once we become a member, we may be hurt or become alienated, but it is still our family. Since there is no other, we must work at reconciliation.”1

One must develop a habit of gratitude, refusing to take God’s blessings for granted.

Popular Culture: The thank-you note is a last bastion in what journalist Mary Killen has called an “epidemic of discourtesy.” Even with the ease of communication via email or text messages, fewer and fewer people seem to be taking the time to thank others. And often, if thanks are given at all, it is only in a quick message that can hardly be described as articulate, memorable, or a product of much effort.

Quote: “God and a Grateful Old Man,” by Lewis B. Smedes. Smedes (1921–2002), a renowned author, ethicist, and theologian, wrote, “I have never met a grateful person who was an unhappy person. And for that matter, I have never met a grateful person who was a bad person. . . . All we need to be grateful is the insight to recognize a real gift when we get one. A gift is not just something we get for nothing.”2