Of Bandages and Streetlights

I have a problem with Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan. I don’t reject the kind of self-sacrifice it calls for. In fact, I try to live my life by that standard. But for people who take the story to heart, I think Jesus — dare I say it — ended the story too soon. Let me reveal the problem by writing a continuation of the parable.

First, let’s review the parable as Jesus told it:

A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he fell into the hands of robbers. They mugged him and left him naked and half dead. A priest avoided giving aid. So too, a Levite … passed by on the other side.

But a compassionate Samaritan rescued him, dressed his wounds, put the man on his own donkey, took him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he paid the innkeeper two silver coins and promised to return and reimburse any extra expenses.

Now, here’s my continuation:

So the Samaritan mounted his donkey and headed once again toward Jericho. He passed the place where he had rescued the wounded traveler and was grateful to God for his opportunity to save a person’s life.

Not more than a mile farther down the road, he saw the form of another wounded traveler lying beside the road. When he saw him he took pity on him and showed the same care to this traveler as he had the day before.

The innkeeper was inconvenienced by having this second victim in his inn. But again the Samaritan paid two silver coins and promised to reimburse the innkeeper for any extra expenses.

The Samaritan left the next morning, but not before counting his money to see if he would have enough for his stay in Jericho.

Plus, he was now two days delayed, so he picked up his pace to make up for lost time. He hoped that his business clients would forgive his tardiness.

Less than halfway to Jericho, his heart sank as he saw in the distance the form of a man lying on the road. Frustration seized his mind: “How can this be yet another victim?”

“What shall I do?” he thought. “My time and money are running out.” He wished he hadn’t noticed the victim. But he saw the wounds and heard his faint cry, and compassion welled up inside him. So he stopped and dressed the wounds, lifted the man onto his donkey and returned to the inn.

The innkeeper, now quite suspicious, reluctantly gave another room to yet another victim. This time the Samaritan could not advance the innkeeper any money, but promised only to pay the bill on his return. The innkeeper was not pleased.

Now quite worried about his business reputation, the next morning the Samaritan headed as fast as possible toward Jericho, worrying, “What if I see another wounded traveler?” Step after step, he feared what was around the next curve.

Then sure enough, from a man lying off in the bushes, he heard a faint moan for help.

“No way! I can’t do this anymore!” he shouted in his agony, as he looked longingly to the other side of the road.

This amplified version of the Good Samaritan parable accurately depicts what most people experience when they obey Jesus’ call to show compassion to wounded people. It never lets up! And it drains you of time and resources.

Could this be why some priests and Levites pass by on the other side?

If we want our people to be Good Samaritans, the church needs to become much more systematic about doing two things.

First, we need to create rescue systems that support and resource those among us who follow Jesus into a life of hands-on compassion. Look around your church. Who are the people always ready to help the hurting? What is your church doing to support them and protect them from overwhelming discouragement?

Second, we should throw more of our energy into teaching our people where and how to battle against evil social and economic systems that create victims. True compassion for “one more soul” ultimately requires us to become much more radical about social reform. True evangelism seeks to save societies not just souls.

It may not seem as immediate and “romantic” as bandaging someone’s wounds, but getting involved in works of advocacy for wounded people groups — in other words, compassion expressed in acts of prevention not just cure — may be the most loving way to pour out your life.

In the end, the Good Samaritan might have become the Great Samaritan had he spent his efforts not just bandaging wounds, but installing streetlights.