In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.
I want to draw your attention to two or three features of today’s parable. We are told that a certain man was going from Jerusalem to Jericho. In the Old Testament, Jerusalem was the place where God dwells: it was a place of worship, a place of prayer. This man was on his way to the lowland, from the mountain of vision he was descending to where human life flows.
On this way he was attacked, his clothes were taken off, he was wounded and thrown along the road. Three people, one after another, walked this road. All three visited where God lives, all three were in a place of serving God, worshiping Him, in a place of prayer. And two of them passed by the wounded man. The text so vividly describes that the priest simply walked by: we are not even told that he even looked at him. He was a wealthy man, he did not care (so, in any case, he thought) about human need: he learned nothing from prayer to God, Who is Love itself. Then the next one passed, a Levite, a man knowledgeable in the Scriptures, but not knowing God. He came up, stood over the dying wounded man, and moved on. His mind — it seemed to him — was absorbed in higher things than human life, human suffering.
And finally, there passed a man who, in the eyes of the Jews, was despised in his very being: not for his personal, moral or other shortcomings, but simply because he was a Samaritan — an outcast; in India he would be called a pariah. This man stopped over the wounded man, because he knew what it was like to be rejected, what it was like to be lonely, what it was like to be passed by with contempt, and sometimes with hatred. He bent over the wounded man, did what he could to alleviate his suffering, took him to a peaceful place: and he did all this at his own cost. He not only paid the hotel owner for the care of the wounded: he gave his time, his care, his heart. He paid in every possible way that we can pay by paying attention to the people around us.
We spent the whole morning in the presence of God Himself, in the place where He dwells: we heard His voice speak to us of love: we declared that we believe in this God who is Love itself, in the God who gave His only begotten Son so that each of us — not all of us collectively, but each of us individually — could receive salvation. We will now leave this temple: during the coming week or until our next visit to the temple we will meet many people. Will we end up like the priest? or the Levite? Will we go, reflecting on what we have learned here, keeping amazement and joy in our hearts, but passing by everyone we meet, because small worries can disturb our peace, take our mind and heart away from the miracle of meeting God, from His presence? If we do this, then we have understood little (if anything at all) about the Gospel, about Christ, about God. And if we, like the young man, like the scribe, ask: But who is my neighbor? Who is the one for whose sake I should be ready to part with the deepest experiences of my heart, with the most sublime thoughts, with my best feelings? – Christ’s answer is simple and direct: Everyone! Every person who needs you, at any level: at the simplest level of food or shelter, sensitive attention, caring, friendliness.
And if one day (that day may never come, but can come at any moment) more is required from us, we must be ready to love our neighbor, as Christ teaches us: to willingly lay down our lives for him. To lay down life does not mean to die; it is about giving our care, day after day, to all those who need it; those who are sad and need consolation; those who are confused and need strengthening and support; those who are hungry and need food; to those who are destitute and perhaps need clothing: and to those who are in spiritual turmoil and perhaps need the word that will pour out from the very faith that we draw here and which constitutes our very life.
Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh.
Holy Land Charitable Foundation
Investment in the Soul!
