ayoamadu

Jesus’ Parable of the Good Samaritan: The Immigrant Version

There was once a man traveling from Port of Entry to Promise, when policy thieves fell upon him.
They stripped him of documents, dignity, and legal language, leaving him half-alive; alive enough to work, not alive enough to belong.

By chance, a Pastor came down the road.
He saw the man and clutched his Bible tighter, not to pray, but to protect himself from contamination.
He whispered, “This is tragic, but order matters,” crossed the street, and posted a sermon later about loving one’s neighbor within reason.

Next came a Church Elder, credentialed, cultured, well-versed in doctrine.
He paused long enough to analyze the situation:
Is he legal? Is he Christian? Does he vote correctly?
Concerned that compassion without verification might encourage more suffering, he walked on, after all, someone else surely had a ministry for this.

But then came an Immigrant.
Wrong accent. Wrong name. Wrong faith, or maybe the wrong version of the right one.
One who had been preached about, legislated against, and prayed for from a distance.
When he saw the wounded man, he did not ask for papers.
He did not ask for doctrine.
He did not ask, “How did you get here?”
He simply saw himself.
He cleaned wounds with remittances and borrowed mercy.
He carried the man on his own tired back, because immigrants are used to carrying what others drop.
He took him to a shelter called Hope, paid what little he had, and promised to cover the rest, as immigrants often do, quietly subsidizing a country that debates whether they deserve to stay.

Jesus then turned to the experts and asked,
“Which of these was a neighbor?”
They answered carefully,
“The one who showed kindness.” (Never naming him. Still uncomfortable.)

Jesus then turned to the experts and asked,
“Who was the neighbor?”
They answered carefully, not wanting to say immigrant, not wanting to say the wrong religion, not wanting to say the one we warned you about.

And Jesus said,
“Go and do likewise.”
Not go and secure the border of your compassion.
Not go and love selectively.
Not go and make sure they look like you, worship like you, or arrived like you.
Just, go and do likewise.

Footnote
In the land of opportunity, the Samaritan now needs a visa.
The wounded man needs proof.
And the priest is hosting a conference on moral decline
with a keynote titled;
“Why This Isn’t Our Responsibility.”
Yet the question remains unchanged:
Not “Who is my neighbor?”
But “When compassion costs me something, will I still be one?”

Closing  Benediction

Today, the wounded man bleeds at the border.
The priest tweets prayers.
The Levite hosts panels.
And the Samaritan is still the problem, even when he is the only one acting like a Christian.

And Jesus?
Still asking the same question.
Still waiting for an answer that doesn’t require a background check.