Gospel according to Saint Luke 10:25-37:

There was a scholar of the law who stood up to test Jesus and said, “Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus said to him, “What is written in the law? How do you read it?” He said in reply, “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.” He replied to him, “You have answered correctly; do this and you will live.”
But because he wished to justify himself, he said to Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” Jesus replied, “A man fell victim to robbers as he went down from Jerusalem to Jericho. They stripped and beat him and went off leaving him half-dead. A priest happened to be going down that road, but when he saw him, he passed by on the opposite side. Likewise a Levite came to the place, and when he saw him, he passed by on the opposite side. But a Samaritan traveler who came upon him was moved with compassion at the sight. He approached the victim, poured oil and wine over his wounds and bandaged them. Then he lifted him up on his own animal, took him to an inn, and cared for him. The next day he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper with the instruction, ‘Take care of him. If you spend more than what I have given you, I shall repay you on my way back.’ Which of these three, in your opinion, was neighbor to the robbers’ victim?” He answered, “The one who treated him with mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

Wine, Oil, two Denarii, and a Donkey-ambulance

Luis CASASUS President of the Idente Missionaries

Rome, July 13, 2025 | XV Sunday in Ordinary Time

Dt 30: 10-14; Col 1: 15-20; Lk 10: 25-37

In 2020, during the pandemic, a Sicilian baker named Vincenzo donated bread every morning to those who could not afford it. To do so, he hung bags of bread on the door of his bakery with a sign that read: Those who can, leave something; those who cannot, take what they need. His gesture inspired other shopkeepers to do the same.

It is moving and interesting because his good deed was aimed at anyone who needed it, but also because he did not have the opportunity to see who benefited from it, and they probably did not have the chance to thank him, even with a glance.

Thank God, there are countless similar cases, which are in line with what Christ teaches us in the Parable of the Good Samaritan: My neighbor is simply someone who needs my help. It is another thing entirely whether I am willing to look at them, how I will help them, what I will leave for later to help them…

From a purely psychological perspective, the example of the baker illustrates what some specialists call the “domino effect of compassion”: when we witness an act of generosity, it triggers in us a willingness to replicate it.

But much more important is what Christ teaches us today at the end of the parable, that this mercy is rewarded with eternal life, which is why Jesus says to the teacher of the Law (and to you and me): Go and do likewise.

—ooOoo—

To gain a deeper understanding of what Jesus wants to convey in the story of the Good Samaritan, it is interesting to know what the scene meant at that time and what makes us similar to the Levite and the priest who passed by.

In those days, the roads were full of priests and Levites coming and going from Jerusalem. Zechariah himself was one of those priests. They worked according to a schedule established by King David; they left their daily work for a couple of weeks each year and served in the Temple. A Levite was not a priest, but he served in the Temple. The roads were always full of priests coming and going from Jerusalem. In particular, the road from Jerusalem to Jericho was known as the “way of blood” because it was difficult to travel and therefore prone to assault.

The priest and the Levite did not take care of the wounded man because they were probably filled with fear; perhaps the robbers were still nearby and they could suffer the same fate as the victim, or perhaps the wounded man was only pretending and some of his accomplices were lying in wait for anyone who fell into the trap.

They wondered what might happen to them if they stopped, but the Samaritan put the wounded man first, regardless of what might happen to him. Surely the Levite and the priest said a prayer for the poor wretch and wished him well in their hearts. Is that enough? It is certainly not wrong.

But it’s one thing to wish someone a safe journey and another to give them a good map… and yet another to accompany them part of the way.

During the famous sinking of the Titanic in 1912, some first-class passengers used their status or strength to secure a place in the lifeboats, despite the unwritten code of “women and children first.”

One of the most talked-about cases was that of the president of the company that owned the Titanic. He survived by climbing into a lifeboat while hundreds of women and children were still waiting. His two assistants clung to a floating board and died shortly afterwards. It was an act of cowardly selfishness, not a complex ethical dilemma.

This type of behavior does not raise a major moral question: it was not a matter of choosing between two goods or two evils, but of putting one’s own well-being before the suffering of others. It is a stark example of how the instinct for happiness, manifested in this case as self-preservation, can overshadow compassion.

There is no need to think of dramatic situations like the Titanic; a gesture to help anyone who is in distress will suffice. The reason, as mentioned above, is that “Samaritan-type” mercy not only gives eternal life, but also spreads it, transmits it.

In the life of Jesus, there is a particularly significant moment, at the Wedding at Cana, where he submits his plans to begin his public life to the mercy shown by his Mother, who noticed the couple’s predicament when they ran out of wine. Nothing was more important than that unscheduled gesture, that help in something that was not a matter of life and death.

Above all, the most powerful excuse, the synthesis and conclusion of all the others, for acting like the priest and the Levite, is: It is not my place to help. I can base it on my lack of competence, on the supposed importance of what I am doing right now, on my own haste and anxiety, on my fear of contemplating the suffering of my neighbor… In any case, those who do not live mercy cannot be happy, for, as the First Reading concludes: The commandment is very near to you: in your heart and in your mouth, so that you may keep it.

That law cannot be impossible, something written in us to make us suffer. It is always possible to do something to show our willingness to help. As the parable of the Good Samaritan illustrates, and as the doctor Luke knew very well, wine can serve as a disinfectant and oil as an emergency sedative to relieve pain.

The question of the teacher of the Law, “Who is my neighbor,” may have been intended to put Christ in a difficult position, but it undoubtedly reveals an inner restlessness, a remorse for not having gone beyond the love expected of someone obedient to the Law written in the Torah. Those who have not had the experience of dying to themselves, of abandoning their comfort, cannot experience the full joy of Christ.

—ooOoo—

This parable illustrates with particular intensity the fact that true mercy, the purest ecstasy, always involves leaving something important behind. The Good Samaritan was undoubtedly unable to warn anyone of his delayed arrival, and this would cause him complications. Another significant detail is the fact that the victim had been stripped of his clothes, so that, at least to bandage him, the Samaritan had to tear his own clothes.

Let us bear in mind a relevant fact about the hated Samaritan population to which the protagonist belongs. In Chapter 9 of Luke, we have just read that Jesus was not welcomed in a Samaritan village because he was a pilgrim on his way to Jerusalem. This further illuminates the teaching that anyone, “even a Samaritan,” can show supreme generosity, which should prompt us to invite everyone to do good, confident that the law of mercy is written in their hearts and will ultimately prevail. Before recounting this parable, Christ had taken this reality into account when he called some unremarkable fishermen and sent out before him 72 disciples who were poorly trained and undoubtedly had various personality difficulties.

I would like to recount a personal experience with a “Samaritan” whom I remember with affection and gratitude.

Let’s call him Manuel. He was distant from the Church, not out of conviction, but because no one had given him a truly attractive witness. He was a friend of my father’s, with whom he used to go hunting partridges on Sundays. He had a great love for nature and music, and he noticed how, at the age of 12, I had a passion for animals of all kinds, which I liked to observe with childlike curiosity.

One of those hunting Sundays, he found a wounded crow, a good-sized bird with a broken wing. He picked it up carefully and brought it home to give to me, knowing that I would love it as a pet. It was a remarkable diplomatic success on his part to convince my mother, who had no particular attraction to that creature.

Fortunately, there was a small garden at our house where Hipacio (as we named him) could perch among the leaves of a grapevine. To the surprise of the neighbors, Hipacio grew accustomed to our care and to eating huge amounts of horse meat (…luckily it was very cheap), which helped him recover little by little. I used to walk proudly with him on my shoulders, to the envy of the neighborhood boys, who began to help feed him. I remember reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island and wanting to imitate the main character, the pirate Long John Silver, who carried a parrot on his shoulder. A crow wasn’t exactly as colorful, but it was just as original.

Manuel was concerned about Hipacio’s health, so he even called a veterinarian friend of his to give him some treatment. That way, he made a full recovery. His squawks were not exactly harmonious, but I think they conveyed a message of gratitude to my patient mother, my surprised father, and our astonished neighbors. He lived with us for several months and then one day he disappeared, surely cured.

This is just a little anecdote, a gesture by Manuel to make a child happy, who will never forget that surprise from someone who did not miss the opportunity to show him his affection.

Since then, I have no doubt that Manuel (…and Hipacio) are watching me from heaven, filling my heart with memories of moments that encourage me to pause along the way and take a closer look at the lives of those around me.

_______________________________

In the Sacred Hearts of Jesus, Mary and Joseph,

Luis CASASUS

President