The Ones Who Didn't

I have traversed Route 40 between Elkton and Perryville quite frequently as of late, getting to know every gentle rise and fall of the 4-lane highway; every contractor and Amish goods store that hug the shoulder; every place where the state police hide. 

It’s not uncommon, of course, to also witness my fair share of fender-benders and motorists who encounter some kind of automotive distress as they make their way through Cecil County. Just last week, having passed the Food Lion in North East, I saw a young-ish woman standing beside a car that had seen better decades, smoking pouring from its engine. What drew me to the spectacle was the fact that she was waving both arms toward the other drivers who were approaching her at high rates of speed, no doubt begging someone to stop and assist her and the children still buckled in the back seat.

Everything inside me – my conscience and my heart – told me to pull off to the shoulder in order to see if she was okay. But the reality: I didn’t stop. In fact, I drove right by her without even tapping my brakes. I needed to get to Good Shepherd for Mass, which was scheduled to begin in 20 minutes. If I got involved that morning, I told myself, Perryville’s parishioners would have been sitting in pews, wondering where their priest was. I needed to be there. 

But that didn’t make me feel any better, quite frankly. I tried to ease my guilt by telling myself: “Surely, someone else will stop. Others are depending on me. I just can’t be the one to help her.”

But what if I was supposed to be the one?

So often, whenever I hear this parable of the Good Samaritan, I make the priest and the Levite out to be the “bad guys,” the ones whom we should not be. Clearly the message Jesus is imparting to us is one that calls us to be the Samaritan who stops to help the stranger, especially if he or she is different, wounded or distressed. What courage and compassion it took for an outsider to assist another person who was not of his tribe or class. Samaritans and Jews hated each other; breaking the social and religious norms and extending mercy to a despised outsider would have been shocking for Jesus’ audience to hear.

A Samaritan became the hero of the story? The one we are taught to hate becomes the savior of one of our own? How can this be? 

This part of the parable should give us pause each time we hear it proclaimed, and shame on us if it doesn’t. Who is it right now that we would choose to walk to the other side of the street in order to avoid? Who would we say doesn’t deserve our time, our attention, our forgiveness? A Republican or Democrat? An illegal immigrant? An ex-spouse? The classmate who wronged you in high school?

If that person comes to mind in this moment, what then may the Lord be asking you to do for him or her? Offer forgiveness in your heart? Pray for them, at the very least? Find a way to proverbially bandage one of their wounds? Are you supposed to walk on by, especially if the other is hurting?

But here’s the other conundrum of the parable: what if we can’t stop? What if we have to be the priest and Levite?

The truth is: both the priest and Levite had every reason to bypass the man who fell victim to robbers, even though the injured man was one of their own countrymen. Had the priest touched the man’s wounds, he would have become unclean. Jews who touch blood would have to be ritually purified, and for this priest, there was no time to do so. He had synagogue needs to attend to; people who needed him. If he stopped to help, others would be hurt, let down and not served.

Religious laws actually advised the priest and Levite: Do not touch. Avoid at all costs. Save yourself and your people.

So they did the right thing, at least according to the law. They were correct in their carrying out of the religious practice. No one could technically fault them, and they could proceed with a clear conscience.

But should they? Did they?

I have been praying a lot these past days with the religious leaders who avoided the injured man, perhaps because I was that man on Route 40 last week on my way to Perryville for Mass. Should I have stopped? Was it better for me to help the one and let countless others wait?

I don’t know. That’s as honest as I can be. Did that woman need ME to stop that day?

Should the priest and Levite have stopped to help? I don’t know that, either.

I feel like Jesus would say: “Of course, you stop and help.” Be the Samaritan, not the rule-follower for the sake of following the law.

That speaks mighty powerfully to me.

And yet, when one follows the law with a spirit of love in order to extend that love to others – as I would like to think the priest and Levite were doing that day – then they are living the words of Moses as heard in the Book of Deuteronomy (our first reading): “If you keep His commandments and laws, [then] you are loving God with all your heart and soul.” They didn’t stop because they were on their way to serve (and love) their people.

Ultimately, here might be the message, no matter which side of the road we fall on in this parable: Sacrificial love has consequences.

If the priest stopped that day to assist the injured victim, he would surely have been made unclean and separated from his people and his ministry for a time. If I had done the same, I might be receiving angry emails right about now or sitting before the bishop.

Our decisions have lasting consequences, and so we must make sure we proceed always from a spirit of true love, weighing what is best with the commands of God. Praying for the Spirit of wisdom to guide our decisions. Entrusting the outcome to the Merciful Heart of Christ. It’s all He asks us to do.

Clearly, the Samaritan did a beautiful act of charity that day, going above and beyond for another person, regardless of his political or religious believes. We can learn much from him, and should allow ourselves to be challenged by his witness.

But the priest and the Levite also show us this: if they did what they did for love of others, God sees and will bring good from it. If they did so only out of selfishness or a desire not to get involved (“not my problem”), then they will be judged on their lack of compassion and mercy. “Whatsoever you do for the least, that you do unto Me.”

In the decisions that will surely have to be made by all of us at different times, lean heavily on the Spirit of God. Pray in the moment of making a decision. Pray for the one who needs charity. Sacrifice boldly when you can, and if you can’t, let not guilt smother your heart or mind. Turn it over to the Lord, saying with confidence: “I did the best I could in the moment out of love. Make good, Lord, from what I was unable to do.”

Who knows? Perhaps the prayers of the Levite and priest who couldn’t stop that day gave the inspiration to the Samaritan to be brave and loving enough to stop? Perhaps their prayers softened the innkeeper’s heart to care for the wounded man.

God wastes nothing when we do what we do out of love – even when it might be imperfect. Even when we think we’re doing the right thing. Even when we don’t stop on the highway due to other important commitments.



In whatever choices we make, let us walk in mercy, following in the footsteps of the ultimate Good Samaritan – Jesus Christ: the One who shows us how Sacrificial Love is lived at every moment of our life’s journey.