"Their hesitation might have come from loyalty, not coldness. Sometimes, following rules makes caring for others difficult." I love this approach to the Good Samaritan parable.
"Ethical systems, whether religious, professional, or civic, are good at this. They let good people stay loyal while doing nothing. The priest and the Levite were not hypocrites; they were following the rules." This went into my journal.
Here, I think, can sometimes be the problem with Western church life. Church itself can become a system, something that in many ways, seen and unseen, reinforces itself more than it challenges me to live out--accompanies me in living out--the messages of Jesus' stories. The upshot: I can feel comfortable about myself attending and tithing, and that comfort crowds out the curiosity and compassion that leads the Samaritan to break through his own political/religious/cultural system.
Pity can cause me to limit my compassion to cutting checks. Jesus goes into so much detail about the Samaritan's caring: he anointed and bandaged his wounds, allowed himself to be seen on the same mount with him for presumably miles, stayed overnight with him at an inn, paid for his care, and made himself surety for whatever further care he needed. In a sense, the Samaritan writes a check, but he does so only as part of the package of compassion that the situation demands from him.
I like your reference to Arendt on pity. So true. You have me thinking about whether her antipathy towards compassion in politics, which for her as you say amounted to pity, has some relation to her antipathy towards systems. She hated both bureaucracy and (perhaps) more sinister "automatic processes to which man is subject, but within and against which he can assert himself through action . . ." These processes, she says, "can only spell ruin to human life" (Between Past and Future, 167). Certainly the Samaritan, "within and against" the system in which he lived and moved, asserted himself "through action."
And Eichmann's banality, I think for Arendt, is focused on this kind of loyalty to a system. Sometimes crossing the road to avoid an encounter with the Other leads to very dark places.
"This story is not about fixing systems. It is about breaking into them." Yes!
Thank you, Bryce, this gets to the heart of it. Systems can let good people feel faithful while doing nothing, and church life is not immune. Participation becomes proof; comfort crowds out curiosity. The Samaritan does not reject structure; he refuses to let it decide the limits of his care.
Your response brings this home to me all over again!
Your focus on the order of his actions matters. Presence comes first: oil and bandages, being seen together, staying the night, returning. The money follows; it does not substitute. That also sharpens Hannah Arendt’s worry about pity and automatic processes. The danger is not rules, but loyalty that suspends judgment. The Samaritan acts within and against his world, interrupting it with responsibility. This story is not about fixing systems. It is about breaking into them.
Beautiful, yet again. Thank you, Bill, for continuing to make us think — and do.
Thanks, Irshad! Your encouragement means as much to me as your example.
Thanks Bill, great to be one of your subscribers👏👏.
"Their hesitation might have come from loyalty, not coldness. Sometimes, following rules makes caring for others difficult." I love this approach to the Good Samaritan parable.
"Ethical systems, whether religious, professional, or civic, are good at this. They let good people stay loyal while doing nothing. The priest and the Levite were not hypocrites; they were following the rules." This went into my journal.
Here, I think, can sometimes be the problem with Western church life. Church itself can become a system, something that in many ways, seen and unseen, reinforces itself more than it challenges me to live out--accompanies me in living out--the messages of Jesus' stories. The upshot: I can feel comfortable about myself attending and tithing, and that comfort crowds out the curiosity and compassion that leads the Samaritan to break through his own political/religious/cultural system.
Pity can cause me to limit my compassion to cutting checks. Jesus goes into so much detail about the Samaritan's caring: he anointed and bandaged his wounds, allowed himself to be seen on the same mount with him for presumably miles, stayed overnight with him at an inn, paid for his care, and made himself surety for whatever further care he needed. In a sense, the Samaritan writes a check, but he does so only as part of the package of compassion that the situation demands from him.
I like your reference to Arendt on pity. So true. You have me thinking about whether her antipathy towards compassion in politics, which for her as you say amounted to pity, has some relation to her antipathy towards systems. She hated both bureaucracy and (perhaps) more sinister "automatic processes to which man is subject, but within and against which he can assert himself through action . . ." These processes, she says, "can only spell ruin to human life" (Between Past and Future, 167). Certainly the Samaritan, "within and against" the system in which he lived and moved, asserted himself "through action."
And Eichmann's banality, I think for Arendt, is focused on this kind of loyalty to a system. Sometimes crossing the road to avoid an encounter with the Other leads to very dark places.
"This story is not about fixing systems. It is about breaking into them." Yes!
Thank you, Bryce, this gets to the heart of it. Systems can let good people feel faithful while doing nothing, and church life is not immune. Participation becomes proof; comfort crowds out curiosity. The Samaritan does not reject structure; he refuses to let it decide the limits of his care.
Your response brings this home to me all over again!
Your focus on the order of his actions matters. Presence comes first: oil and bandages, being seen together, staying the night, returning. The money follows; it does not substitute. That also sharpens Hannah Arendt’s worry about pity and automatic processes. The danger is not rules, but loyalty that suspends judgment. The Samaritan acts within and against his world, interrupting it with responsibility. This story is not about fixing systems. It is about breaking into them.
Yes!
"The Samaritan does not reject structure; he refuses to let it decide the limits of his care." Yes, and so well put.