Mbengu Nyiawung and Masilamani Gnanavaram on the Good Samaritan Parable

More excerpts from chapter 7 of the revised and expanded edition of What are They Saying about the Parables? 

This post is about the contributions to our understanding of the parable of the Good Samaritan from Mbengu Nyiawung and Masilamani Gnanavaram. 

Mbengu Nyiawung builds upon Oakman’s arguments (see the previous post) about the “foolish Samaritan” by describing him as a risk-taking “Good Sama” who serves as a paradigm for socio-economic development in Africa. After placing the parable into its first-century Mediterranean perspective, Nyiawung delineates the avoidance of risk-taking by the priest and Levite in contrast to the “altruistic” risk-taking of the Samaritan in (a) time, (b) resources, (c) identity, (d) life, and (e) religious identity. Nyiawung then compares the robbed man to socio-economic development in contemporary Africa, whose “poverty, misery, and pain” to “external robbers” (“colonizers, superpowers, and other hostile powers,” 277) and “internal robbers” (e.g., some corrupt African elite). He concludes that the solution is not “sympathizers” but “doers”: African people who are proactive, altruistic, compassionate, and risk-taking (“Good Samas”; 280–87), people who ask, “To whom am I a neighbour?” (281–82). 

The parable of the Good Samaritan creates a reversal of expectations. In a similar way, once we read parables with (acquired) peasant eyes and hear them with peasant ears, our Western, post-enlightenment interpretations of them are often reversed. Thus it is no surprise that such “peasant readings” cohere with many biblical interpretations from a liberation perspective, as Masilamani Gnanavaram’s contextual interpretation of the Good Samaritan in light of “Dalit theology” in India illustrates. 

Gnanavaram reads the parable through the “hermeneutical key” that God is the God of the oppressed and has a preferential option for the poor (59). Traditional historical-critical methods are inadequate, and the common Western interpretations that limit the message of the Good Samaritan to “love your neighbor” in the contexts of charity and philanthropy are misreadings of the parable. Especially in light of the inequitable distribution of natural resources, economic wealth, and opportunities, interpreters have to recognize the socio-cultural aspects inherent in the parable: The Good Samaritan should be read as a challenge to existing systems of domination and oppression, including the repentance of the oppressors, and as a model for identifying with the oppressed, liberating compassion and life-giving actions, and the need for the marginalized and oppressed to struggle together for liberation (80–82).

Sources:

Mbengu D. Nyiawung, “In Search of a Samaritan: The Risk-Taking Motif in Luke 10:30–35 as a Paradigm for African Socio-Economic Development,” Neotestamentica 52:2 (2018): 267–87. The article uses the “African Biblical Interpretation” method to initiate dialogues “between the text, the original audience and the original context” and “the context of the present-day audience” (268). 

Masilamani Gnanavaram, “‘Dalit Theology’ and the Parable of the Good Samaritan, JSNT 50 (1993): 59–83.

Monastery of Kaisariani (near Athens): Rich Fool fresco

The Rich Fool Fresco, Monastery of Kaisariani, Katholikon Narthex

The Monastery of Kaisariani, on the western slope of Mt. Hymettos near Athens, includes a Byzantine-era Katholikon (“main church”) built in the late eleventh century. The frescoes in the church and the narthex date from the sixteenth century, although in some ways they continue the iconographic program of the middle Byzantine period, such as portrayal of Christ the Pantocrator (“ruler of all” or “almighty”) in the great dome of the church (Forrest). In other ways, however, they diverge significantly (see below). 

An inscription on the west wall of the narthex states that those frescoes were painted in 1682 by Ioannis Ypatos. The seven parables portrayed in the narthex’s southern vault are the Rich Fool, next to the Rich Man and Lazarus, Sower, and Wicked Husbandmen parables on the west wall and the Prodigal Son, Good Samaritan, and the Pharisee and Tax Collector on the east wall. These parables are crowded into a small space with detailed and often graphic renderings of the events in the parables. The artwork is thus direct with simple but profuse brushstrokes, with the images painted on a black background, which makes the color contrasts and formal tones more striking, even with the simplicity of their composition and forms. Thus these 17th-century murals can be labelled as more “folk art” with an “anti-classical” tendency (Chatzidakis, 18–19). 

The Rich Fool Fresco's context in the Narthex

This fresco of the Rich Fool both reflects and diverges from the observations found in the “Painters Manual” of Dionysius of Fourna about conventional depictions of this parable. The manual cites Luke 12:16 about the land of a rich man producing plentifully and then advises that the illustration should also include the following: “Houses; a man wearing a red robe and a fur hat stands bewildered; before him is a heap of corn, and men pull down and rebuild granaries. He appears again lying on a golden bed, and demons surround him, taking away his soul with tridents.” 

The depiction of the parable in the church’s narthex generally follows that formula, portraying in representation the parable’s plot development: The inscription on the top left of the fresco cites Luke 12:16 about the land (chōra) producing abundantly. The rich man, dressed in red sits at a well-appointed table relaxing, eating, and drinking (12:19). Behind him is a magnificent house; to the left are two workers collecting and displaying part of the abundant crop; at the bottom are three men sawing and working on the wood for his new barns. On the upper right an angel announces the man’s imminent death, holding a scroll that begins with the word “fool” (aphrōn; Luke 12:20). On the bottom right, the fresco depicts the man lying on his bed, and an angel holding down his head and stabbing him to death with a lance. The fresco thus explicitly portrays what the parable foretells—the “fools” death—and viewers are left to wonder: “The things you have prepared, whose will they be?” 

Sources:

Chatzidakis, Theano. The Monastery of Kaisariani. 

Forrest, L. W. The Monastery of Kaisariani: History and Architecture. Phd dissertation, Indiana University, 1991. 

The “Painter’s manual” of Dionysius of Fourna. Translated by Paul Hetherington.

 

Parables and Their Social Contexts: Douglas Oakman and the Good Samaritan Parable

 

More excerpts from chapter 7 of the revised and expanded edition of What are They Saying about the Parables? This one is about Doug Oakman's contributions to our understanding of the parable of the Good Samaritan.

Oakman argues that in the face of the exploitative urban elite, the concentration of land holdings in the hands of a few, rising debt, and other destabilizing forces, Jesus responded by calling for a reversal of the centralization of political power and economic goods. In addition, Jesus advocated exchanges built on “general reciprocity”—giving without expecting anything in return (e.g., the remission of debts). Such general reciprocity fosters unity and propitiates potential enemies, but for Jesus it also fosters the reestablishment of kinship among all peoples. Love for enemies is a corollary of this general reciprocity, which profoundly expresses human dependence on God’s graciousness and willingness to provide for material human needs. 

Oakman also explores how the parable of the Good Samaritan epitomizes this love for one’s enemies. Because peasants were compelled to give up a precious amount of their hard-earned sustenance to outsiders, the common orientation of peasants was to distrust strangers—especially those who dealt in commerce. Outsiders were seen as possible threats to their existence or livelihood, and a cultural chasm existed between city dwellers (where landowners tended to live) and peasant villagers. 

The parable presupposes typical peasant valuations of the characters but does not simply identify with their interests. Peasant sympathies, Oakman argues, would have been with the bandits of this parable. Yet Jesus abhors the violence of the bandits while accepting some of the basic goals of banditry—justice and securing subsistence for the poor. In addition, most modern interpreters ignore the indications in the parable that the Samaritan was a trader—a profession despised by peasants. For Jewish peasants, the Samaritan is a cultural enemy (Samaritan), an evil man (a trader), and a fool. The Samaritan was foolish because he treated the injured man graciously as if he were a family member and was naive about the situation at the inn: Because inns were notoriously synonymous with crime and evil deeds, for this gullible Samaritan to trust the injured man to the care of such an evil place—and to give the innkeeper a blank check—was a folly that could prove deadly to the injured person. 

Oakman concludes that Jesus fully expected peasants to laugh all the way through this story. But Jesus compares the enormity of God’s generosity to the actions of a hated foreigner of despised social occupation, and, in fact, God’s mercy even reaches the point of danger and folly. God’s kingdom is found in the most unlikely, even immoral, places. And God, like the Samaritan, is indebted to pay whatever may be required. As Oakman reiterates in another work, the parable subverts traditional village morality and opens new possibilities: general reciprocity as characteristic of the kingdom of God and as a radical protest against the exploitative agrarian situation in early Roman Palestine. 

These arguments can be found in: Douglas E. Oakman, “Was Jesus a Peasant?: Implications for Reading the Samaritan Story (Luke 10:30–35),” BTB 22 (1992): 117–25.