Living for the Good of Others: The Good Samaritan, Part 2

Scripture — Luke 10:33-35 (NRSV)

But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.’

Devotion

In last Wednesday’s Life for Leaders devotion, I began reflecting on the parable of The Good Samaritan. I noted that this parable provides a moving example of someone who seeks the good of others. The Samaritan illustrates the fact that being a neighbor to someone, even a complete stranger, is more important than trying to figure out who your neighbor is. The Samaritan also shows that seeking the good of another person can be costly in time, money, and safety. There’s a risk involved in this sort of gracious behavior. For those of us who are risk-avoidant, the Good Samaritan’s example challenges us to consider our values and commitments.

Today, I want to focus on just a few words from Jesus’s parable: “and when he saw him, he was moved with pity” (10:33). To put it more completely, “And when [the Samaritan] saw [the injured man], [the Samaritan] was moved with pity.” Yet he didn’t just feel sorry for the man as he moved on. Rather, the Samaritan stopped to help, which, as I’ve explained, was both risky and costly to him.

In today’s devotion, I want to think with you about seeing. The Samaritan wasn’t the first one to see the hurting man by the side of the road. A priest and a Levite had seen him previously but did not stop to help. The difference between their behavior and that of the Samaritan has much to do with how and what they saw. Yes, all of their eyes saw the same physical scene, a wounded man by the side of the road. But, as I once learned in my college psychology class, seeing isn’t as simple as it seems. It isn’t just a matter of taking in what enters your eye. Rather, seeing involves a complex brain process as we subconsciously interpret what our eyes take in.

So, though their eyes took in the same physical information, the Jewish leaders and the Samaritan “saw” differently. The leaders saw a threat, someone who would tarnish their holiness, or perhaps someone who was the “bait” in a robbery scheme. They saw how their lives might be compromised, inconvenienced, or even threatened. Seeing as they did, the two leaders passed by the man, putting much distance between him and them. They certainly didn’t want to see him up close.

The Samaritan saw differently. When his eyes took in the scene with a wounded man by the road, “he saw him and was moved with pity” (10:33). The Samaritan didn’t see an inconvenience or a threat. He didn’t see a religious and cultural foe, even though the man beside the road was Jewish and Jews had a pervasive conflict with Samaritans. Rather, the Samaritan saw a hurting man and “was moved with pity.” The Greek verb literally meant “his inward parts were moved.” We would say his heart was moved.

The Samaritan’s way of seeing and his emotional response moved him to care for the injured man on the road. Yes, he risked being robbed. Yes, he was inconvenienced. Yes, his care for the man cost him financially. But he acted out of compassion, following the guidance of his heart. In this way, he treated the wounded man as a true neighbor, one whom we’re to love as we love ourselves (10:27).

As I reflect on how the Samaritan saw and what he felt, I am both impressed and distressed. I’m impressed because he’s such a fine example of God-inspired love. I’m distressed because I’m not at all sure that if I were walking along that road from Jerusalem to Jericho and observed the man by the road, I would have stopped to help him. It’s quite possible I would have turned my eyes and heart away, walking by on the other side. Yes, I might well have joined the priest and the Levite in their world of safety, efficiency, and emotional blindness.

For me, this isn’t just theoretical. I struggle with this sort of thing all the time, actually. You see, I live in Southern California, where we have something like 100,000 people experiencing homelessness each day. Around 600 of these people without homes live in Pasadena, my current hometown. This means I regularly see unhoused people sitting on sidewalks, camping in parks, standing on street corners begging for money, gathering in Metro shelters, sleeping outside of the local Walgreens, and so forth. I do see them, physically speaking. And sometimes I am moved, though not always with pity. If I’m walking by someone who is obviously homeless, and if that person looks potentially dangerous or if they ask me for money, I feel uncomfortable, bothered, or perhaps unsafe. I don’t find it at all natural to look at them with an open mind and heart, allowing myself to feel compassion. Fear comes much more easily to me.

Now, having recognized these things about myself, and having reflected on the parable of The Good Samaritan, you’d think I might want to repent. Part of me does. But another part of me gets defensive. It’s true that some homeless people are dangerous. When I was a pastor in Hollywood, an unhoused man threatened to kill me in a worship service, and his frantic wife confirmed that he had a gun. Like I said, unsafe.

Moreover, it’s certainly true that I can’t begin to care for even the tiniest percentage of unhoused people in Southern California. Plus, I’m well aware that if I give money to those who are begging, it often gets used for things that are not helpful or healthy. Years ago, when I pastored in Hollywood, I worked with dozens of homeless people. When they asked for money, and I said I would give them a food certificate rather than cash, some actually admitted that they really wanted to buy alcohol or cigarettes. Some would even decline the food certificate. So, I learned not to give cash, which seemed both wise and, in some cases, uncaring.

If you’re hoping that I’m going to resolve the conflict I feel as a follower of Jesus who lives in a place with an overwhelming number of homeless people, I’m sorry to disappoint you. I still struggle with what I’m talking about here. Practically speaking, I do know that if I support financially organizations that do effective work with people experiencing homelessness, this is both effective and kind. (For example, the Lord’s Lighthouse of the First Presbyterian Church of Hollywood does exceptional, gospel-inspired work with unhoused people.)

But I still want to learn more about how I can “see” like the Good Samaritan, looking with compassion and open-heartedness. I am “learning how to learn” from people who have much more wisdom than I, folks like Rev. Amie Quigley, the director of The Lord’s Lighthouse. I am also asking the Lord to help me see people truly, fully, and with compassion. These people include not only those experiencing homelessness, but also those whose lifestyles, politics, values, selfishness, and self-righteousness really bother me. I know I need to see with an open heart if I’m going to live and lead for the good of others.

Find all Life for Leaders devotions here. Explore what the Bible has to say about work at the unique website of our partners, the Theology of Work Project. Reflection on today’s Life for Leaders theme can be found here: What Do You See When You See People?.