A Reflection for Monday of the Twenty-seventh Week in Ordinary Time
Find today’s readings here.
"And who is my neighbor?" (Lk 10:29)
It is almost certainly the most famous parable in the Gospels. The term “good Samaritan” is no longer tethered to its biblical context, as it has entered everyday speech to describe a do-gooder, a philanthropist, a kind stranger who helps a person in need. Charitable organizations and hospitals, in particular, have claimed the good Samaritan as their namesake, projecting an image of compassion and care. In England and Ireland, there is the suicide prevention organization Samaritans; in North Carolina, the evangelical-led humanitarian group Samaritan’s Purse; and across the country, countless Good Samaritan hospitals.
But a close reading of Luke’s Gospel narrative asks two key questions that may be overlooked: Who exactly are the Samaritans? And what does this extraordinary parable reveal about the nature of God’s mercy?
All graduates of Catholic elementary schools and children who sat through C.C.D. lessons in cramped parish hall classrooms can, more or less, tell you the story. A legal scholar approaches Christ and asks how he might enter the kingdom of God. Jesus turns the question back to the scholar, who describes a version of the Golden Rule.
“You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your being, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself” (10:27).
Who exactly are the Samaritans? And what does this extraordinary parable reveal about the nature of God’s mercy?
The scholar then asks Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” which prompts the story of the Good Samaritan. An injured man, semi-nude and bloodied by robbers, is curled up on the street. A priest and a Levite pass by the man, but they offer no assistance. But the Samaritan, who was “moved with compassion at the sight,” acts as neighbor to the brutalized man, dressing his wounds and carrying him to an inn. Christ instructs the lawman to do the same: Treat those you meet with the mercy of God.
Biblical scholar Martina Böhm, who teaches the history of early Jewish peoples at the University of Hamburg, notes that the Samaritans appear several times in the New Testament, especially in Luke’s Gospel. In Luke 9, Samaritan villagers withhold their hospitality while Christ journeys towards Jerusalem; in Luke 17, it is only the Samaritan man, one of the ten lepers Christ cures, who returns to thank him. Böhm writes that the Samaritans were, it may seem obvious, denizens of Samaria, which was the ancient capital of Israel until it was sacked by Assyrians in the early eighth century B.C.
But the Samaritans, at least during the lifetime of the Apostle Paul, were not considered a “religiously defined group.” However, Böhm finds that Matthew, Mark and Luke are less concerned with describing the Samaritans as a political group but more focused on their religious identity as worshiping Yahweh. They are also, it seems, categorized as a foreign people by Luke, Matthew and John—all of whom have differing perspectives on the Samaritans. “Because [the Gospel authors] have their roots in Jewish-Christian traditions,” writes Böhm, “they reflect a semantically young phenomenon when Σαμαρῖται [Samaritan] was understood … as a foreign term for a group religiously distinct from Judaism.”
While there is scholarly uncertainty surrounding how the Samaritans were understood by our ancient authors, the message of the parable is much clearer. Followers must reflect the mercy of God, yes. But how do we understand this mercy? In his 1980 encyclical “Dives in misericordia,” Pope St. John Paul II writes that the mission of the church must be “anthropocentric,” focused on the person. John Paul II notes that while Christ taught a message of mercy, he did not receive such mercy as he underwent his Passion. But the redemption won by Christ’s death and resurrection showed a perfect portrait of justice and exhibited Christ’s love for humanity, allowing mankind to obtain life in God.
“In this way, redemption involves the revelation of mercy in its fullness,” writes John Paul II. Here, the pope connects God’s mercy towards humanity to the promise of the Resurrection: the possibility of eternal life and redemption from our sins. Christ does not condemn us for our sins when we, with a contrite heart and burning conscience, seek to repair our relationship with him. In the words of the Polish mystic St. Faustina Kowalska, who was canonized by John Paul II in 2000, God offers us his “ocean of mercy,” and instructs all his children to do the same.
