A Reflection on Luke 10:25-37
When I ponder this parable, I'm always struck by how Jesus doesn't just
answer the scholar's question; He completely reframes it. This expert in the
Law asks, "Who is my neighbor?" looking for boundaries, for limits to
love. But Jesus tells this story that basically says: stop asking who deserves
your love and start asking who needs your love. The priest
and the Levite, religious professionals who knew Scripture inside and out, walked right past the beaten man. Maybe they were worried about ritual purity,
or maybe they were just too busy with "important" religious duties.
How often do we do the same thing? We're so caught up in our own concerns, our
schedules, our comfort zones, that we miss the person right in front of us
who's hurting.
What makes this parable so radical is that the hero is a Samaritan, someone the
Jewish audience would have considered an enemy, a heretic. Jesus is telling us
that love doesn't care about our tribal boundaries, our prejudices, or our
comfortable categories. The Samaritan saw the wounded man and was "moved
with compassion", that's the key phrase. He didn't calculate whether this
person was worthy of help or whether helping would be convenient. His heart
broke open, and he acted. He used his own resources, his oil, his wine, his
money, his time. Real love always costs us something. It's easy to feel
compassion; it's harder to let that compassion move us to inconvenient,
sacrificial action.
Here's where it gets personal for us as Catholics: we're called to be that
Samaritan every single day. The corporal works of mercy aren't just nice suggestions;
they're the practical expression of this parable lived out. Feeding the hungry,
clothing the naked, visiting the sick and imprisoned, these aren't add-ons to
our faith; they are our faith in action. And
the beautiful thing is that when we serve others, we're serving Christ Himself.
Remember Matthew 25: "Whatever you did for the least of these, you did for
me." Every person we encounter is the beaten man on the road, and every
person we encounter is Christ in disguise.
So, Jesus ends with a challenge: "Go and do likewise." Not "go
and feel compassionate," but do. This parable isn't meant
to make us feel good about ourselves; it's meant to send us out into the world
with our eyes open and our hearts ready to be broken by what breaks God's
heart. Who's the person you're tempted to walk past? Who's the
"enemy" you've written off as unworthy of your love? That's your neighbor.
That's where Jesus is calling you to stop, to see, to pour out your oil and
wine. That's where the kingdom of God breaks into our broken world, one act of
mercy at a time.
©2025 James Dacey, Jr., OFS
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