Though the distance from Jerusalem to Jericho is merely 15 miles, the hazardous interstate road takes a traveler from a height of approximately 2,500 feet above sea level to a depth of 800 feet below. The traveler endures dusty desert terrains before meeting the plush green fields of the “City of Palms.” No traveler along this road ever forgets the long stretches and winding hills and valleys that it takes to navigate through it. Fulton Sheen told how he traveled this dangerous road in one of his pilgrimages to the Holy Land. Seeing one restaurant just by the side of a very sharp turn, he stopped for a visit. He was surprised that the owner had some other name on the sign. His American entrepreneurial sense was steered as he told the owner, “Man, you’re losing a lot of business. Take away that sign and just write ’Good Samaritan Inn.’” To his amazement, the Arab Muslim man had never heard about the Good Samaritan.
Having heard it many times over many years the parable of the Good Samaritan won’t shock us today, but it clearly sent shock waves to the spine of its first hearers. If I were to retell the story today, I would have to change the characters to make it relevant. For example, the first person who passed the poor victim would be a Cardinal, then a Monsignor, or a priest; and the third person, who helped the victim, would be an Al-Qaeda or ISIS member. Got it? You would agree that this description puts a different light on the story. Many of us have our own Samaritan: people we exclude and can’t tolerate.
The traveler would be one like many of us, often carefree about our holy undertakings, especially our spiritual journey and discipleship. We often do not remember that the road to heaven is filled with sharp turns, long stretches, winding hills and dangerous valleys for which we require distinct accoutrements to navigate the terrains as well as unceasing solicitation of the help of the Almighty. Lacking the wisdom to travel with our holy compatriots and the companionship of prayer and spiritual discipline, we often fall into the hands of the devil who beat us up, rob us of our spiritual goods, and leave us soaking in our guilt.
The priest who passes by the wounded man would be like any clergyman of today drawn to religious duties but so lacking in charity that the needs, hunger and cries of the wayfarer are oblivious to him. Pope Francis has consistently barraged such spiritual torpor that puts laws and religious observance above the needs of God’s wounded people lying helpless in the many battle fields of the enemy. He pleads for the Church to be a field hospital for God’s children wounded by sin. Priests, like Levites sometimes excuse themselves from the practice of charity under the pretext that when land was divided among the twelve tribes, they received none; their possession was the Lord (Deut 10:9). Hence, many receive gifts from people and offer none. The parable of the Good Samaritan says: it belongs to all to practice charity. Charity knows no stranger, no enemy, or any of the distinctions created by hate. Charity has no measurement: no length, no width, no degree; because its true measure is to love without measure.
The Samaritan on a journey, according to Severus of Antioch, is Christ Himself, who, upon seeing humanity ravaged by the attack of the enemy didn’t pass by but stopped to pour the wine of His Word over our wounds, mixing it with the oil of His sweetness and love for us (Tit 3:4). The inn to which He took the wounded man is the Church—His Field Hospital, which He made the dwelling place and refuge of the afflicted. Inside the inn, He shows greater solicitude by bestowing grace (two coins). He leaves two coins to the innkeeper—pastors and apostles—to take great care of His patient. Those two coins represent the two Testaments, the Old and the New, coming from the same God and bearing His image. Rich gifts (the sacraments) spring from them to gladden the heart of believers and heal the infirmities of those rescued from the chaos of evil.
Fr. Chukwudi Jo Okonkwo