Christ’s description of the Samaritan’s conduct toward the half-dead traveler operates entirely at the level of universal human need. For all the parable tells us, the injured traveler was unconscious for the duration of his time with the Samaritan.
Details about the content of the traveler’s life experience, past actions, belief system and moral outlook are totally absent from the narrative. Such details are therefore immaterial to the command that follows.
The Samaritan sees a man who lacks the capacity to care for himself, and lacks the money to pay someone else to care for him. So the Samaritan arranges to pay the full cost of the man’s care—insisting that he, the Samaritan, will reimburse the innkeeper for any additional costs.
The Samaritan’s sacrifice amounts to whatever is necessary to meet the basic needs of the traveler. Without specifying an upper limit to the cost of the traveler’s care, Christ commands us to do likewise.
In the US, in 2021, how would I do likewise? In our society, only special hotels offer on-site medical treatment: namely, hospitals. And the bill for a couple weeks in a hospital costs around half a year’s pay at the median wage (versus two days’ median wages, i.e. two denarii).
There’s no straight line from the Samaritan and the traveler to my situation now; so I can’t say precisely what it means for me to do likewise. But two things are clear. First, we can imitate the Samaritan’s basic frame of mind.
When we see others in the midst of suffering or deprivation, we shouldn’t instinctively resort to easy assumptions about their poor choices or lack of character. Making good choices is important; and personal responsibility has its place.
But those shouldn’t be the first things that come to mind whenever we encounter someone in need. Our instinct should be to help.
Honoring the command to love my neighbor as myself requires me to take up the cause of the one in need—the sick, the oppressed, the alien, the orphan—and to ask myself, “If I were in his place, what would I hope for? What would enable me to flourish as a human being?
What would give meaning to the arc of my existence, and beauty to the narrative of my life?” At an individual level, these questions are difficult and often impossible to answer:
much effort is required to appreciate the perspective of another person, particularly when she is separated from me by language, cultural context, overall belief system or moral outlook.
But at the level of universal human experience, answers to these questions could not be more straightforward: no human being flourishes without shelter and nourishment. All human beings are better equipped to flourish with access to basic education and healthcare.
Second, the help that we offer should be responsive to actual needs. Most of us are familiar with the proverbial wisdom that if you give a man a fish, he’ll eat for a day; but if you teach a man to fish, he’ll eat for a lifetime.
The obvious lesson is that teaching people to provide for themselves is better than providing handouts. But suppose I see a hungry fisherman who’s been robbed of his fishing tackle. He doesn’t need fishing lessons. He just needs some help while he figures out his next move.
Or suppose I meet someone who’s ready and willing to fish for herself, but she has been unjustly denied access to a fishing permit. Though she might benefit from some free fish in the short term, what she really needs is justice.
The best way for me to help her is to advocate for changes to the institutions that administer fishing permits. Of course, changing institutions is far more complicated and messy than doling out charity. It involves looking at the world in new ways that are often uncomfortable.
And it may require us to set aside some of our own interests. But if achieving justice for the oppressed requires us to change institutions, then changing institutions is what Christ followers are called to do.
• • •
Missing some Tweet in this thread? You can try to
force a refresh
