For centuries, preachers have used Jesusѻý parable of the Good Samaritan to suggest:
- We should not despise or disparage other races or religions because it was an ѻýoutsiderѻý who rendered help.
- We should emulate that ѻýoutsiderѻý and offer help to the victims of todayѻýs world ѻý the poor, the disadvantaged, the unemployed, the widows and orphansѻý
Both options assume that we ѻý whoever or whatever ѻýWeѻý are ѻý have power. ѻýWeѻý have resources. ѻýWeѻý have money. ѻýTheyѻý donѻýt.
Diana Butler-Bass admitted she thought of herself as one of the fortunate ones who help others. Then she tripped on a crosswalk. On her Sub-Stack page, she wrote, ѻýI landed spread-eagle in the crosswalk. My purse flew one direction, my glasses another. Dazed, I saw that the crosswalk signal was about to change. I couldnѻýt get out of the road before the light turned green. I started to cry, searched for my glasses, and hoped for help.
ѻýA car stopped, and a woman opened the driverѻýs door. I felt relieved ѻý someone was going to assist me. Instead of helping, however, she began to yell at me: ѻýWhatѻýs wrong with you? Get up! Youѻýre blocking traffic!ѻý
ѻýWhen I didnѻýt answer, she shouted, ѻýAre you deaf?ѻý and she leaned on her car horn. I crawled across the street to the corner. ѻýIdiot!ѻý she shouted as she drove away.ѻý
ѻýOccasionally,ѻý Butler-Bass concluded, ѻýyou get to be the Samaritan. But sometimes youѻýre in the ditch.ѻý
Christine preached about the Good Samaritan that same Sunday in her home congregation in Placerville, CA. Then she invited members of the congregation to tell their stories of Good Samaritan experiences.
They lined up in the aisle to share their stories. They were so eager, Christine eventually had to cut the procession off.
A few factors leapt out at me.
The first thing that struck me was roles. Very few portrayed themselves as the Good Samaritan. Mostly, they saw themselves, like Diana Butler-Bass, as the victim. Unlike her, though, they did receive help from strangers.
The second thing that struck me was how many of the stories involved cars. (Perhaps that focus was influenced by the original tale taking place on a road.) Over and over, the story tellers began, ѻýI skidded on the road ѻýѻý ѻýI had an accidentѻýѻý ѻýMy car broke downѻýѻý ѻýI ran out of gasѻýѻý And a total stranger provided a can of gas, a blanket, a tow ropeѻý.
It had not dawned on me ѻý despite being a ѻýcar guyѻý since my teenage years ѻý the extent to which cars have become part of our culture. Itѻýs as if cars have become a second skin that we live in. Or that are almost human characters in our lives.
The most significant exception to these stories came from a man who said he carried $20 bills in his pocket to hand out to people in need.
On this day he encountered a veteran holding a sign asking for help. He handed over the $20. Then sat down beside the veteran and said, ѻýTell me your story.ѻý
It seemed to Christine that his act of intentional listening ѻý like getting down in the ditch with the victim -- might have provided more healing than any financial donation could.