“And who is my neighbor?” (Luke 10:25-37) When a scholar
(lawyer) asked Jesus this question, he may as well have been asking, “How much
of the human family am I supposed to care about?”
Instead of
just answering the question directly, Jesus told the story of the “Good” Samaritan
who, traveling through the hostile neighborhood of Judea came across a naked
and unconscious (therefore without ethnic, or class or geographical
identification) man lying by the roadside. Instead of moving along and minding his own business
(like the temple priest and the Levite who had passed the victim by), the
Samaritan (even though the Samaritans and Jews were enemies), had the
compassion to stop, take a close look, saw that the man was alive, applied
first-aid, put him on his own animal and took him to a local inn to care for
him. Jesus then confronted the lawyer
with a question of His own: “Which of these three, in your
opinion, was neighbor to the robbers’ victim?” Unable to bring himself to say, “the
Samaritan,” the lawyer said, “The one who treated him
with mercy.” Jesus
said, “Go and do likewise.”
The
Samaritan was an outsider. He was
familiar with insults: people moving away to avoid contact. No surprise that a person at home on the
margins would notice a stranger sprawled in a ditch. Privilege hadn’t compromised his vision. He could see.
He could hear. He was moved to
act.
In
capitalist society, worth is measured by what we produce, consume, and possess. People without money, jobs, health, home,
education, or status don’t count for much.
Paul warns that a false gospel is a curse (Galatians 1:6-12). To measure life solely this way smothers us
in emptiness.
Transformation often begins with those whose flesh touches our own. No wonder that the poor often open their doors to those in trouble. Up close, suffering and injustice become real. As our moral imagination grows, the situation of those at a distance become visible. When children fleeing violence show up at our border, we must find ways to help. When our Black brothers and sisters tell us that they are being profiled and discriminated against, we need to check our privilege and listen. When we see homeless men and women begging for food, we need to open our hearts and our pocketbooks to help feed them. At the very least, we can give someone hope in Christ (Romans 15:13). Make no mistake about it; we’re all on the same road that Samaritan was on. It’s a road that most of us, admittedly, would rather not take, but it’s the only road that will lead us home. Throughout the Gospels Jesus says, “You will find Me in the poor, the forgotten, the hungry.”
While the
parable of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11–32) may be the best-known short story
in the world, Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan may be the most challenging
short story. It’s a powerful way of
saying in story form what Jesus taught on the Sermon on the Plain (Luke 6) when
He said, “Be compassionate as your heavenly Father is
compassionate.” To imitate God’s mercy and compassion takes
more than effort; it’s a gift we need to pray for. We need that compassion to serve the universal
common good and to make an ongoing option for the poor, the forgotten, the
hungry—not only in our private lives but in our public lives as well, on the
level of our national and worldwide citizenship.
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