The Story We THINK We Know: The Good Samaritan

The Parable of the Good Samaritan is one of those stories we think we know. Maybe we heard it in Sunday school, where it was summed up as “be nice to people.” Or maybe we picture it as a quaint reminder of kindness—a feel-good lesson about helping others when it’s convenient. 

But here’s the truth: Jesus did not tell this story to make us feel good. He told it to shake us up and to make us uncomfortable. To take whatever lines we’ve drawn between who is in and who is out and erase them. The Parable of the Good Samaritan isn’t just about helping people. It’s about who we are willing to help, and even more than that, who we are willing to be. 

We are good at thinking about loving our neighbor in the abstract, but Jesus makes it clear that love is always concrete. Love is not about feelings alone; it’s about action. Love is demonstrated in what we do. That’s why this parable matters so much, and why it continues to challenge us today. 

Who Is My Neighbor?  

Jesus tells this story in response to a question from a lawyer, a religious scholar who asks, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus turns the question back on him: “What do you think?” The lawyer gives the right answer: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, strength, and mind… and love your neighbor as yourself.” And Jesus says, “You got it.” But the lawyer wants clarity or a loophole maybe. He asks the follow-up question, the one that makes all the difference: “Who is my neighbor?” 

This is a question we still ask. Maybe not out loud, but in our hearts. We like the idea of loving our neighbor, as long as we get to define who our neighbor is, and when it’s people we understand. People who look like us, live in our neighborhoods, speak our language, or share our values. But what about when loving our neighbor costs something or is inconvenient? What about when it forces us to cross the road? 

What about when loving our neighbor means stepping into uncomfortable conversations or standing up for people who have been pushed to the fringes of society? What about when it costs us friendships, reputation, or even security? 

This is the question Jesus wants us to wrestle with. Not just, “Who is my neighbor?” but, “What does it mean to be a neighbor?” 

The People Who Walked Away  

Jesus answers this question with a story. A man is traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho, a notoriously dangerous road, and is attacked, beaten, and left for dead. Then, along comes a priest, someone who knows the command to love one’s neighbor. And what does he do? He crosses to the other side. 

Next comes a Levite. Another deeply religious person, committed to the law of God, and what does he do? He crosses to the other side. 

We don’t know why they walked away. Maybe they were afraid or busy or had more important things to do. Maybe they had convinced themselves that someone else would take care of it. But here’s the thing: they saw him. They weren’t blind to his suffering. They just chose not to engage. 

How often do we do the same thing? How often do we see suffering and keep walking? How often do we convince ourselves that it’s not our problem or that it’s too complicated or that we can’t possibly make a difference? 

But the parable is clear: the priest and the Levite weren’t bad people. They were just people who put their own safety, their own priorities, their own religious purity ahead of love. And in doing so, they missed the heart of God. 

The Outsider Who Showed Up  

Then comes the Samaritan, where the story gets uncomfortable. In Jesus’ day, the Jews and Samaritans hated each other. The Samaritan was the outsider or the enemy, even considered “less than.” 

But the Samaritan is the one who stops. He is the one who crosses the road. He is the one who doesn’t just offer a prayer or a polite word, but gets his hands dirty, bandages the man’s wounds, puts him on his own donkey, and pays for his care. 

And Jesus looks at the lawyer, the one who wanted to know the “limits” of neighborly love, and asks, “Which of these three was a neighbor?” 

The lawyer can’t even bring himself to say the word “Samaritan.” Instead, he mutters, “The one who showed mercy.” And Jesus says, “Go and do likewise.” 

Who Are We in This Story?

I helped a grandmother check in her grandson at the beginning of the camp week. He clung to her side, his eyes darting around the unfamiliar space, fear clinging to him like a heavy coat. He was anxious, hesitant, and when spoken to, quick to argue, as if bracing himself for rejection before it could come.

As I walked his grandmother back to her van, she stopped, she sighed, and she said, “This is going to be a hard week for you… do the best you can.” And she was right, there were tough moments. He struggled to connect and kept his distance. He looked different from most of the other campers and had an accent that wasn’t Minnesoooooootan. I could see it in his posture, that quiet question pressing heavy on his heart: “Am I welcome here? Do I belong?”

But here’s the thing about love: it shows up. It crosses the road. That’s exactly what his cabin counselor and cabinmates did. They kept inviting him in and kept making room. By the end of the week, something had shifted.

At closing worship, his grandmother and I sat together and watched as he stood at the front, arms wrapped around his new friends, singing with joy, doing the actions, and smiling like he had been there forever. When I walked them back to the car, it was different than before. The fear was gone and the uncertainty had lifted. The only thing that remained was the unmistakable presence of God’s overflowing grace and peace.
Love is not just about feeling something. It is about doing something. It is about seeing someone on the margins, someone who feels like an outsider, someone left by the side of the road, and refusing to walk away.

At the end of the day, this parable isn’t just a story: it’s a challenge.

Jesus asks, “Which of these was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?” And the expert in the law answers, “The one who showed mercy.”

The one who shows mercy. He doesn’t say, “Go and THINK about this.” He doesn’t say, “Go and PRAY about this.” He says, “Go and DO likewise.” Because that is what it means to follow Jesus.

So may we all go—eyes open, hearts ready, hands willing.
May we go and love boldly.
May we go and show mercy.
May we go and BE a neighbor.

Written by Travis Aufderheide, Executive Director.