Today we hear one of the most familiar and powerful parables in the Gospel — the Parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:27–37). It comes in response to a simple but profound question posed to Jesus: “Who is my neighbour?” That question is not only ancient; it is modern and deeply relevant to us today. In our busy, divided, and sometimes indifferent world, we must continue asking it with sincerity. More importantly, we must be ready to hear Jesus’ answer.
The parable begins with a man who has been robbed, beaten, and left half-dead on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho. That road was notoriously dangerous – know for robberies and muggings. Interestingly, the man is nameless, faceless, and helpless – someone who could be anyone. As he lies there, three people pass by: a priest, a Levite, and finally, a Samaritan.
The first two, both religious people, see the man and cross to the other side of the road. Their reasons are not explained – maybe they feared defilement. Perhaps they were in a hurry – or they just assumed someone else would help. Or maybe they were just afraid.
The story seems to make the point that, despite their excuses for passing by, their failure lies in choosing not to help. Inaction in the face of suffering is a silent but serious betrayal of compassion. Then, as with all parables, there is a twist in the story! Along comes a Samaritan – someone the original listeners would have expected to be indifferent or even hostile. Yet this outsider becomes the one who sees, feels, and responds. He draws close. He bandages wounds. He lifts the man up and pays for his care. His actions are not driven by obligation or recognition. They flow from a heart moved by mercy.
Jesus then turns to the lawyer and asks, “Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbour to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” The answer is clear: “The one who showed mercy.” With that, Jesus delivers the call to action: “Go and do likewise.”
This command is not a suggestion. It is a challenge to reach out to those who are in need all around us. Some are physically in need – the homeless, the poor, the sick. Others carry emotional wounds – grief, anxiety, loneliness, or rejection. Many suffer silently, behind masks of strength. Each of these people lies on the roadside of life, hoping someone will stop and notice.
In telling the parable of the Good Samaritan, Jesus wants us to understand that a neighbour is anyone in need – and the call of discipleship is to be that neighbour who responds with compassion – just as Jesus himself does.
He is the one who draws near to our brokenness. He is the one who refuses to pass by. He kneels beside us in our pain, binds our wounds, carries us when we cannot walk, and bears the cost of our healing – even to the point of the cross.
The parable ends with a clear, simple command from Jesus: “Go and do likewise.” It’s not an instruction to go and save the world in one grand gesture. It’s an invitation to begin where we are – to let mercy shape our steps, one encounter at a time. What Jesus asks is that we don’t turn away. That we don’t let fear, indifference, or convenience silence the voice of compassion within us.
We may not always know what to say. We may feel helpless in the face of someone else’s pain. But the parable reminds us that love is not measured by the perfection of our response, but by our willingness to respond at all. In the end, the call to love our neighbour is not about being heroes – it’s about being human, in the image of Christ. It’s about noticing. Pausing. Crossing the road.
When we pause to help another, we discover something beautiful. We discover that the road from Jerusalem to Jericho winds through every neighbourhood, every family, every parish. It winds through the spaces of our daily lives. Yes, along that road, we will find people who are hurting, and who are in pain, but we also discover that the road to Jericho is not just a place of danger or struggle – it can also be a place of holy encounters. Because every act of mercy is a meeting place with God – and that is the really good news.
Every act of mercy becomes a doorway through which Christ enters our world again – quietly, humbly, and powerfully. When we stop, when we bend down, when we make space in our day for someone else’s pain, we are not only helping them – we are encountering the presence of God.
This is the heart of discipleship. It is not only about believing in Jesus but allowing our lives to reflect His compassion. It means letting love interrupt our plans and allowing mercy to shape our priorities. In the process, something within us begins to change. Mercy doesn’t just heal the wounded; it transforms the one who responds.
So today, what might these scriptures be asking of us? Could it be to live in such a way that, when others encounter us, they feel seen, valued, and less alone. Or to take one small step today — to notice, to care, to act – and trust that God will do the rest.