Luke 10:25-37, 15th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Our Gospel today offers us a popular parable, one that is very familiar: the Good Samaritan. Many of us have our favorite interpretations of this parable. Mine comes from Paul Ricœur’s essay, “The Socius and the Neighbor.” It’s an essay that used to be required reading for all Ateneo students taking Philosophy of the Human Person. I don’t intend to give a lecture on it, but I will be drawing from its insights this morning.

We hear of a scholar of the law asking Jesus a question. It’s likely not just a request for information, but the beginning of a conversation. In His customary manner, Jesus responds with a question. Notice what happens: the lawyer asks, Jesus responds. Twice this happens. The lawyer gives good answers, and Jesus agrees. So, what’s the problem?

We have two good questions, two good answers, and both the young man and Jesus agree.  I think, all kinds of things are wrong here. Asking questions for the purpose of gaining an advantage over another is not something that one who desires the Kingdom would do.  A conversation is not holy just because it’s about holy things. If the goal is to gain the upper hand, or to avoid responsibility, then it is no longer a dialogue seeking truth. And we know Jesus wasn’t thinking about getting good answers from the lawyer, after all he didn’t say “great answer!” but rather, he said “Go and do.” Jesus takes the question out of the scholar’s head and lays it on his heart. From the law, our Lord goes straight to the heart. He said: “Go and do likewise.”  

And so, we have the parable of the Good Samaritan.

Rather than retell the story, I want to reflect on its point. Each day, as we prepare for work or school, we not only dress ourselves—we clothe ourselves with roles, with functions. When I prepare to teach my class in philosophy, for instance, I assume the role of a teacher, which means I must think, reflect, and focus. But the irony is, when one is lost in thought, immersed in ideas, one can become blind to the world around them. Have you ever found yourself so preoccupied with work that you fail to notice the beggar knocking on your window? Or that office mate who looks anxious but remains invisible because you’re rushing to submit a report?

We wear our functions like armor. And this is what Ricœur called the socius—the person defined by their role in society. I don’t believe Jesus was portraying the priest and Levite as heartless. They were likely good people. They were more focused on religious duty than on the wounded man. Perhaps the two passed by on the “opposite side” for religious reasons. Their being faithful to their understanding of the laws of physical purity are righteous in their eyes. The good news of Jesus expressed in the parable is that “unlawful” love of the injured is the new and complete righteousness. Keeping our eyes and hearts open to the robbed is more blessed than keeping our eyes on keeping legal strictures.

The scandal of the Gospel is this: it’s the outsider, the Samaritan—considered religiously impure—who becomes the true neighbor. Because he breaks free from mere function and moves with compassion. He doesn’t ask, “Is this man my neighbor?”Instead, he chooses to be a neighbor.

That’s why, in the end, Jesus rephrases the lawyer’s question. The better question is not: Who is my neighbor? The real question is: Who am I a neighbor to? That is the heart of the matter. (Sa ating wika –pangangapit-bahay at hindi langkapitbahay?)

The Gospel invites us into tension. We are comfortable defining “neighbor” as someone who shares our values, who will appreciate our help. But that’s not how Jesus defines it. This reframing reveals something radical: Love is not about selective generosity. It’s about readiness to act with compassion, even when inconvenient, even across boundaries, even without recognition.

This is how we inherit eternal life—not by having the right answers, but by doing the right thing. “Go and do likewise.”