Today’s Gospel story is the parable of the Good Samaritan, a story we’ve heard over and over. It’s a very familiar story about showing compassion even for people we may not want to treat well: a nice little story with a nice little moral, especially for those of us who like to do good deeds for the needy. The story certainly doesn’t offend our sensibilities; in fact, we tend to hear it with a satisfied ear, as if we believe we would surely do what the “Good” Samaritan did when he was moved by compassion to help the victim of highway robbery. At least, we’d like to think we would. In other words, we put ourselves in the place of the Samaritan, and it’s comfortable there. But let’s remember that there are two other audiences for it, besides us here today: there’s the group of people, including the lawyer, gathered around Jesus that day, presumably all or mostly Jewish people. Then there are the early Christians of Luke’s community who are trying to live their lives as followers of this Jesus, and they’re just as interested in being faithful and in knowing what that means for how they live their lives.
It’s not one of our own kind who saves the day – it’s the hated Samaritan, a guy who’s definitely on the outside of our community of care. They don’t worship like us, they don’t hate the same people we hate or love the same people we love, they don’t live where we live, and there’s no way they should provide the hero of the piece. The stomachs are churning by this time, and the sensibilities are definitely offended. A lot of hatred, of course, is religiously based and rooted in historical things like wars and other arguments. The Samaritan had probably been taught, from his side, to hate the Jews, too. And remember that he’s in their territory, and the robbers could still be hanging around, waiting for their next victim. In our aspirations for holiness, we may miss the heart of both the Good News and the Law. After all, the quest for holiness cannot violate God’s commands to Love.