A modern re-framing of the Good Samaritan

The vast majority of people are familiar with the Good Samaritan. Even if they do not know the biblical origins of the term, the concept has entered the modern vernacular. Thus, virtually everyone will recognize the Good Samaritan as a person who helps others without expecting anything in return.

As a result of this definition, Samaritans are generally seen by modern Americans in a positive, honorable light. We give Good Samaritan awards to people who exhibit selfless kindness. We have Good Samaritan laws to protect those who try to help others. And we have Good Samaritan organizations, homes, churches, and more. Indeed, “Good Samaritans” are generally equated to heroes.

This, however, was not always the case. In fact, the modern perception of Samaritans is due in large part to a story Jesus told in Luke 10:25-37. There, in conversation with “an expert in the law,” Jesus affirmed that God’s two most important commandments are (a) to love God with all your heart, soul, strength, and mind; and (b) to love your neighbor as yourself. This prompted the legal expert to ask a new question: And who is my neighbor?

Rather than responding directly to this question, as he often did, Jesus took the opportunity to tell a parable or story. He began by introducing a man traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho. This was a common occurrence; in fact, the vast majority of his listeners had traveled the same road at some point or another. It was, therefore, a simple matter for them to imagine the situation. They could envision passing through the gates of Jerusalem into the countryside, climbing the hill to Bethany, the spectacular views along way, and the point where the road pitched downward into the Jordan River valley.

As it descended, the road followed a series of wadis. These narrow, deep ravines were formed as the rain which fell upon the top of the hill rushed down to the river below, carving out the soft limestone bedrock along the way. The resulting gorges were by far the best route from Jerusalem, perched more than 2600 feet above sea level, to the Jordan River, more than 1200 feet below sea level. However, they also presented a very real danger. As the wadi grew deeper, so did the shadows. At the bottom of the deepest wadi, the sun may shine for only an hour or two per day as it passed directly overhead. So also, there were often sharp twists and turns. The result was dark, blind corners where bandits could wait to ambush unfortunate travelers.

It was not, then, unheard of for a traveler to be waylaid on their way from Jerusalem to Jericho, and so it happened that the traveler in Jesus’ story was ambushed. The criminals who attacked him stole his clothes and any goods he was carrying, beat him up, and left him lying for dead.

Now, the road between Jerusalem and Jericho was typically quite busy. Jerusalem was the seat of the regional government and the center of Jewish religion and culture, and Jericho was an important commercial center a day’s walk to the east. Because of its lower elevation, it also had a much better climate, especially in the winter. Therefore, many wealthy and powerful people made their home in Jericho and commuted to Jerusalem when their jobs demanded it. Therefore, it was not surprising to hear that a priest and a Levite came upon the wounded man.

At this point, though, the story began to go wrong. Instead of helping the man, the priest went around on the other side of the road. This could be explained if the priest was on his way to work in the temple and needed to remain ceremonially clean: if the man was dead when the priest touched him, he would be unable to fulfill his time in the temple. Even so, it was stunning to think that a holy man would walk past this man in obvious distress. Even more stunning, the Levite also walked by the man. Again, it could be explained if he was on his way to work in the temple, but Levites were known as the people who did the tough, unclean work. They disposed of the remains of sacrifices and cleaned up the mess after animals were butchered. The Levite was an ideal hero candidate, and when he walked by, the listener was left stunned.

It was stunning that the two most revered men in Israel would walk past a man in such obvious distress, but even as Jesus’ listeners opened their mouths to protest, they were struck by the fact that they would probably do the same. In fact, they probably had done the same. How often had they walked past others who had been robbed? How often had they looked the other way when Roman soldiers accosted their innocent neighbors? And worse, their excuses were not nearly as good as those of the priest or Levite.

Then, however, the story went completely off the rails, ran down the hill, crashed into the river, and exploded. The one person who stopped to help was a Samaritan. The Samaritan stopped, bound the man’s wounds, and gave him what passed in the first century for medicine. He then unloaded whatever was on his animal, brought the man to an inn, and took care of him through the night. By the next morning, the man was out of the woods, but still not ready to travel. Thus, the Samaritan paid the innkeeper two days’ wages to care for the man and promised to reimburse any other expenses incurred.

To the first-century Jews who first heard Jesus tell the Parable of the Good Samaritan, the decision to include a Samaritan at all – let alone, to cast him as the hero of the story – was utterly shocking. Jews in Jesus’ time considered Samaritans to be mongrels, heretics, and interlopers. They were typically portrayed as violent, savage criminals who were just waiting for an opportunity to take what was rightfully Israel’s. No one stopped to wonder if these labels actually applied to an individual Samaritan because they were all considered part of the group. Thus, if a Jew saw a Samaritan, they would cross to the other side of the street, mutter some insult as they passed by, or worse. In fact, if a Jew saw a Samaritan injurred on the road, he was more likely to kick the Samaritan than render aid because, as a whole, Samaritans were loathed by the Jews.

Throughout the centuries, there have been various groups of people who have been viewed in a similar way by the larger community. For example, Romans called anyone who lived outside of the Empire’s bounds “barbarian.” European explorers classified the Africans and American Indians they met as “savages.” White Americans in the South looked upon Black Americans, slave or not, as “niggers.” When different ethnic groups (e.g., Irish, Chinese) began immigrating to the US, many were viewed in a similar light. During WW2, it was the Japs, including Japanese Americans who had their property seized and were interred at camps across the US. Then it was the Communists, the Vietnamese, and so on and so forth. Each of these groups, as a whole, was loathed by polite society.

For the typical twenty-first century American evangelical, two groups perceived in a similar way are Palestinians and Mexican immigrants. It is assumed that all Palestinians are part of the evil Hamas, and therefore, they deserve whatever terrible fate they receive. They (and their children) may be killed, their homes bombed, and their land annexed by the morally superior Israelis. Therefore, as of this writing, more than 24,000 Palestinians, including more than 10,000 children, have been killed by Israel’s response to a Hamas attack which killed 1,139 people. This response is so far from just or proportionate it is outrageous, but American evangelicals accept it because Palestinians are so loathsome.

So also, Mexican immigrants are regularly presented as thieves and murderers coming to take our jobs and rape our daughters. We assume they are part of the drug cartels even if the whole reason they came to America was to flee the drugs and violence of the cartels. Therefore, it does not matter if we hold vast numbers of them in detention centers at the border without substantial cause and beyond all reasonable timeframes, splitting families and denying them healthcare and other basic human rights in the process. It is perfectly acceptable to pack them onto tour buses in the night and cart them across the country as pawns in our political stunts. It is okay if we ultimately send them back to the exact situation they were so desperate to escape because Mexican immigrants are, as a whole, loathed by the rest of us.

A huge part of the story of the Good Samaritan is that the Samaritan hero had likely been mistreated by people who looked like the man lying in the road. He therefore had every reason to simply keep walking, but instead, he stopped to render aid. It jarred Jesus’ Jewish audience to reconsider how they treated people who mistreated them and suggested that Samaritans may not be as loathsome as they were assumed to be.

Therefore, if Jesus re-told the Parable of the Good Samaritan to a twenty-first century American evangelical audience, in order to achieve the same effect, it would be the Parable of the Palestinian or Mexican Immgrant, and the story would go something like this:

A white, English-speaking man was going down from Des Moines to West Des Moines and got carjacked. They ripped him out of his seat, beat him up, and stole the car, leaving him half dead in the middle of Grand Avenue. A politician happened to be going down that same road. When he saw the man lying in the middle of the road, he carefully maneuvered his Suburban to avoid running him over and said, “An ambulance is probably already on its way.” In the same way, a pastor, when he arrived at the place and saw the man lying in the road, turned off on a sidestreet and went around the block to avoid the traffic and get to his meeting on time. But a [Palestinian or Mexican] on his journey came up to the man, and when he saw him, he had compassion. He stopped in the middle of the road, dialed 911, and began to render first aid. When the dispatcher said the ambulance was going to take too long, the [Palestinian or Mexican] dumped all the stuff out of his minivan, loaded the man, and raced him to the hospital. He then stayed by his side in the ER throughout the night. The next day, when doctors were still uncertain if the man had any medical insurance, the [Palestinian or Mexican] signed the papers to assume responsibility for the man’s medical bills and said, “Take care of him until I get back.”

Which of these three do you think proved to be a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?

Go and do the same.