While running an errand recently I was forced to avoid a car that was tailgating me persistently. Every light I stopped at, the car surged dangerously close to my bumper until I eventually pulled over. The car appeared behind me further down the road, and again zoomed up dangerously close. As we stopped at a red light, the driver accelerated into the rear of my car. The impact jarred me, but as I was exiting my car the driver reversed and struck my vehicle again, narrowly missing me in an attempt to flee. I leapt to the vehicle and banged on the window until the driver reluctantly got out of her car. The individual, clearly impaired, handed me expired insurance papers and muttered a curt apology. 

As shaken as I was, I remember most a young man crossing the busy street to say, “I was a witness. I’ll wait here to help.” As I turned to speak to him, the driver who hit my car jumped back into hers and fled. I learned my witness spotted her car again 15 minutes later in a roped off section of the road. She had collided with another vehicle, more seriously this time. 

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It's the second time I’ve been struck by a careless driver. Both times someone came forward to say, “I’ve got your back. I saw what happened.” I felt such gratitude that someone I didn’t know wanted to help. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that, as I processed it, the word “witness” and the parable of the Good Samaritan came to mind. The latter is one of the best-known stories in the New Testament. Its teaching left an indelible impression on me as a youngster. It is a powerful moment when a lawyer is said to be testing Jesus, and His reply to “who is my neighbour?” is to tell the story of the man travelling from Jerusalem to Jericho who is beset by robbers and left for dead.

Only in my adult years did I realize how doubly pointed Christ’s teaching actually was. As a child, I had no idea what a Samaritan or a Levite was. I didn’t grasp that Jesus’s example specifically spoke of a priest, and then a fellow countryman, passing without rendering aid. More significantly, the person who stopped to assist was not just a stranger, but someone who in today’s parlance would be an “enemy” of the injured man. Yet, without hesitation, the Samaritan stopped to bandage his wounds and take him to safety. Christ’s parable isn’t simply a kumbaya, feel-good story telling us to pull up our socks and take care of each other. His teachings were never simple.

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Rather, the parable of invites us to celebrate our faith by confronting our racisms, our prejudices, our conflicts, by embracing those who are different than us — especially if they are different from us – and challenge us in our wants and expectations. The Samaritans, as the lawyer who interrogates Jesus well knows, were the sworn enemies of the Levites, and making one the “hero” of the tale was shocking to His audience. The lawyer cannot even name him when Jesus asks: “Which of these three was a neighbour to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” The lawyer, perhaps resentfully, responds: “The one who showed him mercy.”

It isn’t just asking us to do good in the world. It is asking us to rethink our judgement to embrace even those who challenge us most. As the Jewish scholar Amy-Jill Levine points out: “It’s easier to make our enemies clear. If our enemies show compassion to us, that messes up our categories. ….But that’s exactly what the Samaritan does.” It’s exactly what Jesus asks us to do: destroy categories because they define and separate. The dignity of the human being is not a label, it’s a witness that we are all called to protect. Knowing this, Jesus instructs us: “Go out and do likewise.”