The one who showed mercy. 

This is the response given at the end of the story by the expert in the law. It comes only after the expert stood up to test Jesus about how to receive eternal life, then “wanting to justify himself” he questioned Jesus further about who his neighbor is. To answer this question, about who one’s neighbor is, Jesus tells the man a story, a parable, that we have come to know as the Good Samaritan. 

The story Jesus tells is about a man who has been beaten and robbed on the Jericho road, and about those who ignore his suffering. A priest, followed by a Levite, those we expect to show care, pass by the injured man on the other side of the road. Then comes our Samaritan, the one who was the outcast, the other. The Samaritan notices the man, cares for his wounds and gives his time and resources to ensure that the injured man will be on the path toward healing. This story about loving our neighbor is also about expanding our notion of who is our neighbor. 

So Jesus asks the expert in the law, “Which one of these three do you think was a neighbor?” 

I have always been interested in his answer, that the one who had mercy was the neighbor. Why did he not simply say, “the Samaritan?” Yes it is clear that the Samaritan showed mercy, but perhaps our imaginations can open us up to more characters in this living story who also show mercy. 

In 1967 Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke with love as he clearly and courageously called out the US’ involvement in the Vietnam War, calling the United States military, his own government, the “greatest purveyor of violence in the world today.” He found it crucial to consider the broader context, the illness, of violence present in our nation rather than condemning the symptoms of violence in our communities. MLK, Jr. argues that the conditions for violence are created by unjust systems of oppression and that when those most suffering, particularly communities of color, riot or commit what appears to the oppressor as violence, this is the “language of the unheard.” To theologically ground his argument, MLK, Jr. invokes the parable of the Good Samaritan and asks us to consider the person injured on the road alongside the road itself: 

“A true revolution of values will soon cause us to question the fairness and justice of many of our past and present policies. On the one hand we are called to play the good Samaritan on life’s roadside; but that will be only an initial act. One day we must come to see that the whole Jericho road must be transformed so that [people] will not be constantly beaten and robbed as they make their journey on life’s highway.”

With this insight I could no longer think of this story in isolation as I began to ponder new questions. Who was the man who was beaten and robbed? Where was he walking to? What were the motives of the robbers? Why didn’t the priest stop? Was he rushing to another obligation? All of these questions propelled me beyond the “initial act” of caring for the injured man and toward working to transform the Jericho road altogether. 

My understanding of this parable was again expanded when I encountered a sermon that Howard Thurman gave. Thurman was a theologian and mystic who had a profound impact on the Civil Rights Movement through his scholarship, most notably the book Jesus and the Disenherited, and mentorship of leaders in the movement, including MLK, Jr.

At the heart of his sermon on the Good Samaritan, Thurman asks us to thoughtfully question and consider our internal motivations for helping others. He says that oftentimes when we help others it may be because we have so much excess we feel obligated to give, or so that we can get a good night’s sleep, or perhaps to get a reward in the next life. He provocatively says, “So in helping the other person, you were really administering to your own needs. Is that it?”

Thurman’s point is that we must not relate to others through need, whether it is our need to feel better about ourselves or another person’s need to get something to eat. He argues that attempting to relate through need is futile because “Human need is infinite.” If we continuously relate to one another through each other’s needs, we will never get anywhere. Thurman states: “I can’t make a quantitative impression on infinity.” We do not need, nor are we capable of saving everyone who has been beaten and robbed on the side of the Jericho Road. Instead, Thurman insists, we must recognize the person in front of us and relate to their core.

“The primary thing is that when I say ‘I love,’ it means that I’m involved in an encounter that leads from the core of me to the core of you, past all the good things I know about you, all the attractive things I know about you, beyond all of the bad things I know about you. And it makes contact with the core of you.” 

The call from Thurman is to recognize the person in front of us, to love people as people. The reminder from King is that this love must involve challenging systems of injustice. Together, Thurman and King recognize that if we are truly committed to love and to justice, we cannot have any separations or distinctions. We cannot challenge systems of death without loving people, nor can we love people without actively working for their wellbeing. Oscar Romero put it well: “When the church hears the cry of the oppressed it cannot but denounce the social structures that give rise to and perpetuate the misery from which the cry arises.” We must recognize the person in front of us, then, through that relationship, we might be able to recognize the errors in the system, then, we may be able to recognize and love people better and more deeply. And “around and around and around and around it goes.”

Let’s continue to learn what it means to show mercy, then let us go and do likewise.

Reflection Questions

• Are there times that I am too busy and unable to notice those in need, those suffering, around me? 
• Do I ever cross the road to move more quickly past those in need rather than taking the stop to attend to their suffering? 
• Who are those beaten and robbed today? Who are the robbers? What conditions lead to these actions?

Song: “The Preacher and the Slave (Pie in the Sky)”

This song, written by Joe Hill, is a critique and condemnation of organizations, wealthy people, and religious groups who promise salvation in the next life while actively keeping people in conditions of poverty in this life. I can imagine the Priest or the Levite rationalizing their actions by subconsciously thinking that the injured man will be taken care of in the next life. Or consider the architects and owners of Jericho, who may be enraged at anyone who questions the safety of the road and works toward reform. In the song, Hill mockingly calls the Salvation Army, known for leading a prayer before feeding people, the Starvation Army. The refrain, “You’ll get pie in the sky when you die,” references a common belief that it is okay to be poor and hungry in this life because in the next life you will be rich and full.