That’s the question that launches one of Jesus’ most unsettling stories: the parable of the
Good Samaritan.
We sit with the uncomfortable reality that the “religious” people in the story—the ones who should’ve known better—walk right past a wounded man. Not because they were heartless villains, but because they had reasons. Plausible ones. Familiar ones.
- “I’m not supposed to touch blood or a dead body.”
- “He’s not like me—wrong class, wrong group.”
- “That road is dangerous… he knew what he was doing.”
- “It’s not safe. It’s not my responsibility.”
And then comes the surprise: the neighbor is the one everyone expected least—someone from a “lesser” culture with an incomplete theological background—yet he becomes the living example of love.
This message isn’t just about identifying who counts as our neighbor. It’s about something sharper:
The real question isn’t “Who is my neighbor?”
It’s “Am I being a neighbor?”
Ponder
What would change in our church—our habits, our priorities, our reputation—if we devoted ourselves to being the kind of hospitable, caring neighbor Jesus describes as the tangible fulfillment of the greatest commands?