“But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, ‘And who is my neighbor?’” ~ Luke 10:29

Mark Twain once said “Familiarity breeds contempt — and children.” Funny and sobering at the same time. When I think about Jesus’ parable of the good Samaritan, I can’t help but agree with Twain. How many times have I read this story? How many times have I heard a preacher preach it or a Sunday School teacher teach it? Does the heart of this story spark anything in me anymore?

I admit the story’s familiarity tapers its profundity. And it’s a shame.

When Jesus told the story of the neighborly Samaritan, I doubt anyone within its hearing displayed a ho-hum response. Both the story’s characters and plot shocked the ho-hums right out of everyone. A Samaritan coming to the rescue of a near-dead Jew?!?! Unthinkable. The Samaritan counted for less than the road dust on the traveler’s sandal. He’d be the least likely person to come to the dying man’s aid. And yet when two religious types walked right on by, only the Samaritan offered a hand.

I keep thinking about which character I am in the story. Sure, at times I’ve been the bleeding person on the road. Often it was the person I least expected who came to my rescue. More often, however, I’m one of the travelers. I’m someone who either stops or walks. But which am I? Which character do I play more often than the other?

Faces come to mind. The filthy woman leaning up against the wall of a gas station. The college girls flaunting their stuff at the mall. The difficult teenager who continues to make bad choices. The person who doesn’t like me, though we’ve seldom shared a conversation. The acquaintance who opposes my morals, faith and politics in every way. The woman whose words have left a deep wound.

They’re all bleeding and broken, scattered along my road.

Do I stop or walk?

What do you do?