15th Sunday of Ordinary Time

To All the Good Samaritans of the Epiphany 

The Good Samaritan: The Road from Self to Other 

(15 Week, Ordinary Time, Luke 10:25-37, 13 July 2025) 

Today’s Liturgy presents us with the parable of the Good Samaritan, taken from the Gospel of Luke (10:25-37). This passage, this simple and inspiring story, indicates a way of life, which has as its main point not ourselves, but others, with their difficulties, whom we encounter on our journey and who challenge us. Others challenge us. And when others do not challenge us, something is not right; something in the heart is not Christian. Jesus uses this parable in his dialogue with a lawyer when asked about the twofold commandment that allows us to enter into eternal life: to love God with your whole heart and your neighbor as yourself (Luke 10:25-28). “Yes”, the lawyer replies, but, tell me, who is my neighbor? (Luke 10:29). We too can ask ourselves this question: Who is my neighbor? Who must I love as myself? My parents? My friends? My fellow countrymen? Those who belong to my religion? Who is my neighbor? (Pope Francis, Angelus, 2016) 

Dear Brothers and Sisters of Epiphany, 

Today, we are invited by the Liturgy to walk the dusty road between Jerusalem and Jericho—not just with our feet, but with our hearts. The parable of the Good Samaritan, as proclaimed in Luke 10:25–37, is more than a moral tale. It is a philosophical call to conversion and a theological revelation of the very heart of God. Justice begins where indifference ends, a Christian thought grounded in the idea of moral consciousness. 

The Turn: From the Self to the Other-The dialogue begins with a question: What must I do to inherit eternal life? The lawyer’s question is not merely legal; it is existential. He is asking about the meaning of life, the telos, the goal. And Jesus responds with a question of his own: What is written in the Law? —prompting the answer: Love God and love your neighbor. Encounter reveals the self: who I am is how I respond. 

But then comes the evasive maneuver: And who is my neighbor? Philosophically, this is the temptation to define love in a way that controls it—to limit responsibility only to those within our circle of familiarity. It is an act of what Emmanuel Levinas would call totalization—reducing the Other to the Same, to what I already know and understand. But love, as revealed in Christ, breaks this circle open: the neighbor is not a category but a summons as inspired by Emmanuel Levinas’ ethics of the Other. 

The parable of the Good Samaritan is the rupture of the self-enclosed ego. It is the epiphany of the face of the Other—the wounded man on the roadside, whose blood and silence call to us, not with words, but with need. Levinas says: The face of the Other speaks to me and calls me into responsibility. The priest and the Levite pass by—not because they are evil, but because they remain trapped within a logic of religious ritual that does not open the heart. They are still centered on themselves. To be human is to be responsible—for the suffering I did not cause, a reflection on moral responsibility beyond causality. 

The Samaritan, by contrast, breaks the circle. He does not ask: Who is my neighbor? Rather, he becomes a neighbor. The real question is not about identity but about action: Which of these proved to be a neighbor? Love is not sentiment but action in the face of vulnerability as rooted in Aristotelian and Christian virtue ethics. 

The Depth: A God Who Draws Near Theologically, this parable is a window into the very being of God. In Jesus, God Himself is the Good Samaritan—unexpected, rejected, yet moved with compassion: He came near to him. That phrase echoes the mystery of the Incarnation. God does not remain distant in divine transcendence; He enters our Jericho roads. He binds our wounds with the oil and wine of the sacraments. He places us upon His breast—like the Lamb who carries the lost sheep—and brings us to the inn, the Church, for healing. Jesus redefines holiness as proximity to the broken. 

The Parable therefore reveals that mercy is not optional for the Christian; it is the very logic of divine life. Pope Francis reminds us: When others do not challenge us, something in the heart is not Christian. To love God is to be open to the interruption of the Other. The road to eternal life passes through the suffering of others. Mercy is the true path to eternal life. 

A Way of Life: Becoming Neighbors- This Gospel is not just about doing good deeds; it is about becoming a certain kind of person. It is about cultivating a habit of attentiveness. Many suffer on the margins of our roads: the poor, the lonely, the refugee, the mentally ill, the elderly forgotten in homes. We cannot save the world, but we can stop for the one in front of us. Your neighbor is the one lying wounded before your eyes today. 

The Samaritan saw him and was moved with compassion. The Greek word for compassion here, splagchnizomai, refers to a visceral movement of the gut. It is the same word used for Jesus’ own reaction to the crowds. This is not pity from afar; it is kenosis, a self-emptying toward the Other. This compassion is not weakness. It is strength born of divine love. Don’t just pass by—bend down and bind wounds. 

A Portrait of the Good Samaritan – The Good Samaritan as Icon of Ethical Responsibility- Philosophically, the Good Samaritan represents the ethical subject par excellence. Emmanuel Levinas, the French Jewish philosopher, speaks of the face of the Other as a summons to responsibility. The Samaritan sees the wounded man—not as an object of curiosity or a problem to avoid—but as a human being who calls forth his being. His response is not dictated by law or utility, but by the interior imperative of compassion. He does not ask: Is this man my neighbor? but rather, how can I be a neighbor to him? He embodies Levinas’ idea that ethics begins when the self is interrupted by the presence of the Other. 

A Theological Image of Christ- Theologically, the Church Fathers often interpreted the Good Samaritan as a figure of Christ. Origen (Alexandria, 185-250 Anno Domini) for example, saw the wounded man as Adam, humanity fallen by sin and left half-dead on the road. The priest and Levite represent the Old Covenant, unable to save. But the Samaritan, despised and rejected, is the one who draws near with compassion, binds the wounds, and pays the price. Thus, the parable becomes a miniature Gospel: God draws near to fallen humanity with mercy, not from obligation but from love. 

Neighborliness as a Way of Being-This parable redefines neighbor not as someone within the boundaries of race, religion, or nation—but as anyone whose need I see and am able to respond to. Here, Jesus shifts the question from Who is my neighbor? to What kind of person am I? The Samaritan is not defined by his ethnicity or social standing, but by his action: he became a neighbor. Philosophically, this is an existential moment: the self becomes most itself not in self-preservation, but in self-giving. 

Love Beyond Borders- Theologically, the Samaritan’s act mirrors divine love—agape—which is gratuitous, universal, and incarnational. It crosses boundaries: social (Jew vs. Samaritan), religious (ritual purity vs. compassion), and moral (law vs. mercy). His love is not abstract but embodied in wine, oil, bandages, coins, and presence. This reflects God’s own love, made visible in Christ, who tends to us not from afar but by stooping into our wounds. 

Mercy as the Measure of Holiness- Finally, the parable ends not with admiration but with a command: Go and do likewise. The Good Samaritan is not just a figure to contemplate, but a path to imitate. Jesus redefines holiness not as ritual separation, but as radical compassion. True worship is not avoidance of contamination, but willingness to be wounded by the pain of others. Jesus Christ is the Face of the Father’s Mercy. 

Concluding Summary: Go and Do Likewise- Dear Epiphany, Jesus ends not with a theory but a command: Go and do likewise. Theology must become ethics; contemplation must become action. But this action is not mere activism. It is participation in the very movement of God’s mercy. 

Let us not ask: Who is my neighbor? as if we could choose. Let us instead become neighbors. Let us allow ourselves to be interrupted. Let us walk the road not only with our plans but with open hearts. For on this road, we meet not only the wounded—but Christ Himself. The Good Samaritan is more than a moral example; he is a revelation of what it means to be truly human and truly godlike. In him we see ethics as responsibility, theology as mercy, and love as the bridge between heaven and earth. He challenges us to move from theory to practice, from boundaries to bridges, from law to love. Jesus redefines holiness as proximity to the broken: 

Which of these proved to be a neighbor? The one who showed mercy: Go and do likewise (Luke 10:36–37) 

Fraternally,
Fr. John Peter Lazaar SAC, Pastor