But because the scholar of the law wished to justify himself, he said to Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”
Jesus’ reply to this question follows what he told the scholar of the law just before this:
“You shall love the Lord, your God,
with all your heart,
with all your being,
with all your strength,
and with all your mind,
and your neighbor as yourself.”
It’s hard to imagine what in Jesus’ time was the common understanding of a neighbor was. Was it someone who lived next door, was it a fellow laborer, was it those who shared the same culture and faith traditions? Similarly, it’s hard to define in today’s world. Next door neighbor? Social media friend? Fellow churchgoer? Jesus describes a neighbor who doesn’t quite fit into any of those categories. Rather, the man who fell victim to robbers is alien to those who encounter him on the road to Jericho. He is the kind of person most people would run from, not wanting to get involved and perhaps themselves become victims. In the victim in this parable, there is something totally other—the antithesis of the neighbor.
God, help me understand what a neighbor is; I’m afraid I don’t know. I have to smile and think of Mr. Rogers and his television neighborhood. He brought everybody into his neighborhood, invited guests into his home, and went out of it to visit others for the sake of teaching children about different professions and vocations. He gathered people in and went out to meet others. The good Samaritan is good because he sees in this antithesis of a neighbor a means to pour out his love to restore him to health and wholeness. Who is my neighbor? The “not-me” I see in others; the half-dead, alienated soul; the one with wounds who needs to be cared for, who needs mercy.
As I approach Communion, I think of the wounds of Christ on the cross, particularly the nails in his feet and wrists. Never having experienced anything close to such a wound, I can’t imagine the pain. The God-Man bore that pain for the salvation of the world. For others, in his life and through the sacraments, he heals physical and spiritual wounds. Over the wounds of the victim in the parable, the Samaritan poured oil and wine. How the man fell victim, being robbed of wholeness, is significant. Through healing oil (sacred oil/extreme unction) and wine (the blood of Christ outpoured), the wounds are treated to restore the man’s health and bring him to wholeness.
“ ‘Which of these three, in your opinion, was neighbor to the robbers’ victim?’ Jesus asks. The scholar of the law answered, ‘The one who treated him with mercy.’ ” Let me remember today that when I see others as “other,” I am on the way to seeing them as neighbors and learning what it means to treat them with mercy. Who is my neighbor? I hesitate to say. Isn’t it that other me (“your neighbor as yourself”) who is not alien after all but waits to be invited, to be shown the mercy and wholeness only God can give?