For centuries, the road from Jerusalem to Jericho was the most important transport route in Judea. H. B. Tristram described it in the following terms:
"After leaving the poor village of Bethany [beside Jerusalem], we turned left, and the descent became increasingly faster along the rocky steps [...] Two miles before reaching the plain, a canyon widened sharply, and we were dominated by abrupt and jagged cliffs, on the brink of a precipice 500 feet deep, whose wall was perforated by numerous caves [...] And at the base of those cliffs, whence the road winded down to the bottom of the valley, we considered one of the most beautiful sights of Palestine South: a lush forest that had grown after a large brown plain, and finally the Jordan "(TRISTAM. H. B. Cited in The Bible - Land, history and culture of the sacred texts. Lisbon: Del Prado, 1984. Vol. II, p. 184).
Unfortunately, robberies were common in the dusty road to Jericho. The numerous caves mentioned by Tristam served as hideout for thieves, who appeared by surprise to rob and attack travelers. So, Jesus referred to a typical scene of the time, when he pronounced the parable of the good Samaritan:
"A certain man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and he fell among robbers, who having stripped him and beaten him, went away, leaving him half dead. And by coincidence a certain priest was going down on that road: and when he saw him, he passed on the opposite side. And likewise also a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed on the opposite side. But a certain Samaritan, who was journeying, came upon him; and when he saw him, he was moved with compassion; and he came to him and bound up his wounds and poured oil and wine on them. And placing him on his own beast, he brought him to an inn and took care of him. And on the next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper and said, Take care of him, and whatever you spend in addition to this, when I return, I will repay you" (Luke 10:30-35).
The parable was uttered in answer to the interpreter of the law, who had questioned Jesus about whom should be considered man’s neighbor. The answer may seem obvious today, but at that time it was the subject of an intense debate. Rabbis and scribes questioned each other whether the care of neighbors should be extended only to Jews or also to foreigners. And, if it was due also to foreigners, as the Torah established, which variety of people should be included in the concept of non-Jewish? For example, after having departed from the worship in Jerusalem, should the Samaritans still be an object of Jewish solidarity?
In answering the question of his inquirer, Jesus did not refute the notion of proximity based on blood relations, physical neighborhood or religious position (Samaritan, Levite or priest), since a nation needs these criteria to make visible the boundaries of solidarity among its citizens. Showed, however, that human closeness should transcend these criteria to be based mainly on compassion for others in real situations of life.
The need for this teaching may sound strange to us, since we are not used to conceiving priesthood as a cause of solidarity. Why is it necessary to show that a priest is not someone close, if life already teaches so with many examples? If we all know from experience that a priest remains isolated in a temple and away from people’s problems? But, given the context of the time, Jesus had to fight the idea that outward dispositions such as the priestly condition could be enough to warrant proximity to other people.
However, he also showed that the inner criterion of proximity based on compassion was much more important and was not observed by religious Jews. Neither the priest nor the Levite who passed by the place where the traveler was stretched aided him. This indicates that the holders of those offices often neglected their vocation. Compassion had become as strange a feeling for them as it was for the thieves who had left the victim half dead.
However, besides the priest and the Levite, the parable shows a Samaritan who passed by the way, was moved by compassion and rescued the traveler. A Samaritan was the reverse of all that the priesthood represented at that time. Its origin was well known: when the Northern Kingdom was conquered by the Assyrians, the local cities were populated with Israelites and Gentiles from various places. These people gave rise to a mixed population, which adopted a mixed worship, of God and idols.
In the second century B. C., Samaria’s mixed population came into serious conflict with the Jews. And to further complicate the relationship of the two peoples, in year 6 d. C., the Samaritans desecrated the Temple in Jerusalem with human bones. These incidents were so serious that the Gospel of John reports us that, at the time of Jesus, "the Jews had no dealings with the Samaritans" (John 4:9).
The lack of communication is one of the biggest signs of enmity. Enemies do not talk with each other. On the contrary, they hate and, if possible, slay one another. Therefore, more than a heretic, the Samaritan was an incarnation of the Jew's ultimate enemy. This visceral enmity, this dealing determined by man’s most degraded instincts, form the backdrop of the scene. But the Jew robbed, beaten and left half dead was loved by his greatest enemy.
From a cultural standpoint, the Samaritan passerby had no reason to love the half dead Jew, but was moved by tender compassion. The word translated "moved by" originally indicated the viscera of a mother’s body. Indicated, therefore, that the love of the Samaritan was similar to that a mother devoted to her offspring. This is the true and highest response to the legal question "who is my neighbor?"
It is curious that the Samaritan did not love the miserable man, by bringing him home. Nor sought to know who were his relatives or acquaintances. In delivering the parable, Jesus simply left no room for formal relations, for relations that were aged by time. The new wine of love should not be poured into old wineskins, because this would be the same as to waste it. Helping one another is an obligation for relatives. But the good Samaritan rescued by compassion, even by the compassion of a mother for her child. And he did so to his greatest enemy. Drained to the last drop, the hatred of his heart gave way to love, like the wine of the festival, once exhausted, created a new space for the better wine.
The Samaritan’s deep love cannot be likened to the fulfillment of an obligation arising from kinship, professional camaraderie or any other external link. Jesus did not say the Samaritan took the man home and informed his sad state to his relatives. The victim of human lack of loving kindness should not be saved by relatives or friends, since these are not unlike the first wine of the wedding at Cana. He should be saved by the tightening of compassion in the chest of his very enemy.
"And on the next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper and said, Take care of him, and whatever you spend in addition to this, when I return, I will repay you" (Luke 10:35). The parable tells us of one nothing and three alls. The victim was robbed of all he owned, except the last thread of life. He was reduced to nothing, but received a second all (all he needed to recover), at the price of all it might cost. These alls came from the same unequivocal source: the ingrained compassion of his former Samaritan enemy.
It is often said that the Samaritan represents Christ. And he undoubtedly does. But I think he also portrays the Gentile enemy of the Jew. From this enmity that rocked the whole Earth on a vertigo, Jesus withdrew his definition of what truly meant to love the neighbor. The definition has little to do with theology, and still less with religion. It has all to do with subversion of enmity by compassion. Like a vulture, love feeds on the corpse of enmity. It sucks its carcass until there are but bones. This is the true love that God and only God can give birth to.
There was no difference between a Samaritan and a Gentile, except the larger hatred that Jews vowed to the first. Thus, the Samaritan was also a Gentile. Ephesians 2:14-15 refers to the wall of separation between Jews and Gentiles. That wall was higher and longer than China’s. Started at Samaria and made the lap of the Earth, imprisoning all men. Until the heretical Samaritan was moved by compassion and began the destruction of the wall.
It has been taught that the inn is the church. For a time, I rebelled against this interpretation, since the inns beside the Jewish roads were places of dubious reputation, which were not rarely crowded with malefactors. But I concluded that, if the hero of the parable is an anti-hero, a picture of the ultimate enemy, the place where the victim convalesces can well be a den of robbers. St. Augustine and many others pointed out that the church on Earth is not only a community of saints. It is also that den. But it must still be recognized as the best place for man beaten by life to recover. In an inhospitable world, though imperfect, the inn is a center of salvation for many.
The scribe who questioned Jesus about love was not himself in a position to love. He believed that love was to greet his neighbor with the word prescribed by law: how could he truly love? He had also been stripped of everything and was half dead. And a half dead man could only love as zombies do. But that zombies’ love, which is based on greeting others with the exact word and telling the acceptable prayer, was nothing more than feeding the deepest enmity. To love truly is to tremble with compassion for others. It is to love with the strength of a will reborn of water and the Spirit.
