The Justified Samaritan

The Pastor (The Priest)

The sleek black BMW convertible pulled up to the intersection and came to a stop. White knuckles gripped the steering wheel as the pastor looked nervously past the red glare of the stoplight, eyes fixed on the rising spire of his church. He checked his gold diamond-studded Rolex for the fourth time. 

Damn it! Going to be late for the first service. He can’t believe it. Where are the sheriff deputies they hired to direct traffic?

Just then, he noticed a man sitting on the curb just outside the church property, next to the sign that read “Second Baptist Church”. 

The stranger sat with his back propped up against the sign. Blue eyes stared at the pastor from the man’s dirt-streaked face, partially hidden by long and disheveled hair matted with dry mud and what looked like grass. A rusty-framed bike with a bent front wheel lay in the grass next to him.  

The pastor noticed that the man’s leg was bleeding, and his right foot seemed to be angled slightly sideways.

The man’s possessions, consisting of a few items of old clothing, some plastic bottles, and a small leather satchel, lay strewn about next to him. 

This is not a good look. I’ve got 2,000 people coming to the service today, and this is what they’re going to see?.  

The church used to have a homeless ministry that ran an overnight shelter and a food kitchen, but the program was closed down because many in his flock thought the church was becoming a “social gospel” church or too “woke”.  

They also complained of the smell and that many of them talked to themselves. Others were worried that they would assault them or their children in the restrooms. 

Eventually, several deacons approached the pastor to tell him that they would withdraw their support for him and their tithes unless he ended the outreach program. 

“Why don’t we just give the money we are spending to the Lutheran church down the street, and they can take care of them? Let them do the literal dirty work”,  said one of the deacons. 

He turned his gaze from the red light back to the stranger.  He rolled down the window and said, “Hey, you. Listen. You need to move, ok? If you need some help, you can go to the shelter down the street. It’s right over there at the Lutheran church. It’s just a mile down the road. You can’t miss it. God bless you and happy Easter!” 

The light turned green, and the BMW sped away with a slight screech as the engine roared.

The Deacon (The Levite)

The deacon stood by the door, huddled together with a group of ushers. 

“Who’s on golf cart duty on the east side today?” he asked, his outstretched arm pointing generally in the direction of the parked golf cart in the driveway. 

“Fred Johnston was supposed to help out today, but he wasn’t able to make it”, said a sandy-haired man in a blue polo shirt embroidered with a cross and the letters SBC printed in an arch over it. 

The deacon was agitated. He was already short on volunteers, and now Fred Johnston decides not to show up. Typical and par for the course around this place. 

“Ok. I’ll cover the east side myself”.

 He hopped into the driver’s seat of the luxury cart, which had 10 seats. Punching the accelerator, he launched the cart into the parking lot, almost side-swiping a parked car and narrowly missing an elderly woman in a wheelchair in the crosswalk leading to the entrance. 

Racing towards the main parking lot entrance, something caught his eye by the sign in front of the church. He turned the cart into the grass, heading toward a lump of what looked like a pile of dirty clothes and trash. He leaped out of the cart as it screeched to a stop behind the sign.

Damn it. The maintenance crew is supposed to walk the property before every service to make sure this type of crap is picked up.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something moving on the side of the sign facing the street. Walking around the front, he saw the bleeding man sitting with his back against the sign.

 “Hey, bud. You can’t be here. This is private property.” 

The man stared at him blankly and said in a weak, strained voice, “No problem, sir. But you see, my leg is injured. One of the cars that pulled into the parking lot ran me and my bike off the road right into this sign, and my leg is hurt real bad.”

The deacon looked past the stranger and noticed the long line of cars lining up to get into the parking lot.

 “Look, if you go to the Lutheran church down the road, they may be able to help you. It’s just across the street. See the sign? They can fix you up, but you’ve got to move from in front of my sign now, OK? Happy Easter, and God bless you, my friend! 

The cart suddenly leaped forward as the deacon punched the pedal to the floor, racing toward the entrance of the parking lot. 

The Outcast (The Samaritan)

On the other side of the parking lot, James sat in his car, the engine idling, the sound of his own breathing loud in the cramped space. I shouldn’t have come. Why did I think this would be different? 

He remembered the last words spoken to him by his father as he slammed the door in his face, a suitcase and a few boxes of his things at his feet. “God does not love fags, son. I’m doing this for your own good”.

The words were a physical weight in his chest. God, give me a sign, please, he whispered. Anything. Just tell me I’m not crazy for being here. 

Then he saw the bumper sticker on the car that backed in ahead of him: Adam & Eve, Not Adam & Steve.

The silence that followed was cold. 

Okay, God. I hear you. He put the car in reverse, his vision blurring. If you don’t believe in me, then I don’t believe in you.

As he started to turn onto the street, he noticed the stranger by the sign on the corner. He pulled off to the side of the road, got out of his car, and ran over to the man.

 “Hey man, are you ok?” The man was crawling toward his bike, struggling to get up, his left foot dragging behind him. 

“Yes, sir. I’m going to be ok, but I gotta get out of here before the golf card dude gets back. I don’t want any trouble.”  

James looked at him, still wiping the tears from his eyes, “Hey, man. Let me give you a ride to the hospital so they can check you out. That leg looks pretty rough.”

 “Sir, I don’t want to put you out, but if you could at least help me get up and get my things, that would be great”, said the stranger, eyes nervously glancing around, looking for the golf cart.

James put the stranger’s bike and several bags of his things into the trunk, then helped the man to his feet, slowly lowered him into the back seat so he could stretch out his injured leg.  

Looking at the stranger in the rear-view mirror, James asked, “So what is your name?”

The stranger, wincing in pain as the car hit a small dent in the road, replied, “My name is Samuel, but my friends call me Sammy. However, I don’t have many friends anymore, so most people just seem to call me ‘hey you’”.

James cracks a slight smile, amazed at the attitude of this man who obviously had been homeless for some time and who possibly was suffering from a broken leg.

 “Well, you are no longer ‘hey you’ to me, Sammy, so I guess that makes us friends. I’m going to take you to the emergency room to get an X-ray for that leg.”

James parked the car in the hospital parking lot and wheeled Sammy into the emergency room in a wheelchair.

Handing a clipboard to Sammy, the nurse asked, “Do you have insurance?”

Sammy’s head drops down a bit, eyes pointed towards his shoes. “No ma’am. It’s been a long time since I’ve had insurance.”

The nurse looks at him disapprovingly. “Ok. Fill out what you can, and we’ll see what we can do.”

The emergency room was packed with hardly any seats available. They sat down next to a woman who was bouncing an infant on each leg while she held the hand of a three-year-old in the stroller in front of her. 

The father was busy getting snacks from the vending machine in the corner while three other kids were pleading with him in Spanish to pick their favorite. 

The woman leaned down and kissed the little girl in the stroller with a worried look on her face. She turned to the woman sitting on the other side of her and said something in Spanish about a high fever and that she hoped they would take them back soon.   

“So, Sammy, where are you from? How did you end up in front of Second Baptist Church?”

Sammy took a deep breath, leaned forward in his chair, then back again with a sigh. He had moved from Cincinnati several years ago with his ex-wife, who was from New Orleans.

They both worked for a shipping company, he on the docks and she in the office as a cargo coordinator. His wife came down with breast cancer and eventually lost her job and health insurance. 

Due to the slowdown in exports, he also lost his job. Within months, they were both homeless. 

The cancer ended up spreading, and his wife passed away shortly before Christmas a couple of years ago.

Homeless and by himself with no family, he wandered the French Quarter, living in and out of homeless shelters. During this time, he started to drink heavily and was in and out of various free programs to help him stop. 

He finally ended up across Lake Ponchartrain in Lacombe at a re-hab camp run by one of the New Orleans shelters. However, after only two weeks, the rehab facility closed due to a lack of funding, and he ended up back on the street. 

He was trying to get to the church to attend the Easter service and maybe get something to eat.  

Hour after hour passed. James noticed that those who answered “yes” to the insurance question were being called back to the exam room area more quickly than everyone else. 

“Man, this is nuts. We’ve been here for over three hours, and they keep taking people back who got here way after we did”, said James. 

Sammy shrugged, took a long breath, and let it out. “Yeah. That’s par for the course if you don’t have insurance. They have to treat you because it’s the law, but you will wait for hours, and then they don’t treat you the same. I’ve had so many of my friends die in this waiting room or die after they leave because they didn’t get the tests they needed.”

“That’s ridiculous”, said Sammy. “Well, that’s not going to happen today. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

James wheeled Sammy out to the parking lot and got him back into the car. After a few minutes, they pull into the parking lot of the 24 Hour Urgent Care clinic.

“This is the clinic that I use when I get sick. I don’t have any insurance either, so they usually give me a big discount since I pay in cash, and they treat me pretty well”. 

The nurse called Sammy’s name within about 10 minutes of their arrival. The X-rays determined that Sammy had indeed broken his left ankle and a couple of bones in his foot. 

They put him in a cast, gave him some pain medication with instructions to follow up in a couple of weeks or sooner if he has any problems.

“So. That will be $800.00 for your visit today. How will you pay for that, sir?.

Sammy starts to answer, but James quickly interrupts, “I’ll be taking care of this one, ma’am,” as he hands her his credit card. 

Sammy looks at James in disbelief. “Man. I can’t let you do that. I will pay you back, I swear”, his lip quivering. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“No thanks necessary, buddy. Let’s get you out of here”.

In a few minutes, the car pulled into the parking lot of a Hilton Hotel. Come on, Sammy, let’s get your things and go check in.” 

“What are you talking about? Are you for real?”

“When was the last time you slept with a roof over your head?” James asked.

Sammy looked up at the Hilton sign, trying to think about the last time he didn’t see the stars when he went to sleep. “Well, other than a couple of shelters I’ve been to, it’s been probably over a year.”

“Wow, man. Are you going to sleep well tonight!”, said James.

They got Sammy’s things out of the trunk, except for the bike, which James planned to bring to a bike shop to get repaired, and headed towards the hotel check-in desk. James took out his credit card and handed it to the clerk.

“I’d like to pre-pay for this gentleman to stay in your fine establishment for a week, please”.

The clerk looked at Sammy and then back at James. His smile turned into a slight scowl as he said, “I’m sorry, but we don’t allow that.”

“Excuse me. What don’t you allow?” asked James.

“We don’t allow someone to pay for someone else when they are not staying because we’ve had”, the clerk pauses, “a few incidents.”

“Well, that won’t be a problem. I will check in under my name, and this gentleman will be my guest. You can keep my credit card until we check out if you are worried about anything. And oh, whatever this man needs during his stay here is to be charged to my card, is that understood?”

The clerk looked at Sammy and then back to James with a slight frown on his face, “Well, if you are willing to take a chance. It’s your money.”

After getting something to eat at the hotel restaurant, James wished Sammy good luck and told him he would be back to check on him and make sure he was okay. 

The Justified

Later that evening, when he got home, James decided to watch the sermon preached at Second Baptist Church that day online. 

The sermon was on the parable of the Good Samaritan. The pastor recounted the story of how the expert in the law asked Jesus what he must do to inherit eternal life.

 As he often did, Jesus answered the question with a question: “What is written in the law?” The man replied, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’ and Love your neighbor as yourself. “Ah”, said the man, “but who is my neighbor?”

Jesus then goes on to tell the story of the stranger who was robbed and left for dead on the side of the road. Both a priest and a Levite passed by and saw the man but refused to help him because of religious doctrine related to who was clean or unclean.

Clearly, Jesus meant that everyone, regardless of race, religion (especially religion), sexual orientation, ideology, nationality, political party, or any other attribute that sets us apart in the physical world, has nothing to do with whether we consider someone our neighbor. We are to love everyone regardless of these categories. There must be more. What do you want to show me, God?

James turned off his computer. The room, now engulfed in darkness, seemed to swallow him up until his eyes fixed on the small candle on the mantle above the fireplace. He watched the tiny flame flicker back and forth.

In the quiet of his room, a voice stirred from somewhere deep within. 

“You came today looking for Me in a temple of stone and song,” the whisper said. “But I was not behind the pulpit. I was at the gate, broken, bleeding, and cast aside by those who claim My name. When you turned your car around, you weren’t leaving Me; you were finally coming to Me. 

You see, when you loved the stranger, took care of him when he was sick, fed him when he was hungry, and provided shelter for him when he had none, you were loving me with all your heart, soul, and mind. 

When you empathized with him, put yourself in his shoes, and did for him what you would have done for yourself, you were loving your neighbor. 

My son, always know that you are now and forever a citizen of my kingdom. Now go forth in peace to do my Father’s will as you have already done.”  

So, I now ask you, the reader, what must you do to inherit eternal life?