The Good Samaritan

The Good Samaritan parable in Luke's gospel has a long-standing place in the Hall of Good Stories of Compassion. Every one knows that the word "Samaritan" is a domesticated term - one that in today's world would hardly induce the loathing its utterance brought forth among Jesus' hearers. My job as storyteller is to sabotage expectations - to put together a mouse (interpretation) that grabs the attention of the cat (listener). In other words, instead of the story being cast as a sheep in wolf's clothing - because its end is already known and the word "Samaritan" is synonymous with compassion - the sheep's clothing of conventional interpretation must be subverted by the rapacious wolf of the parable's intent. Here is my attempt to tell the story:

Who are you neighbor?
Entombed in the Sierra Nevadas.
In Cardin blue, or sleek leather
with the Hilfinger suit at the Chico Mall.

A woman, traveling from Skyway to Park
fell into the hands of those who stripped,
raped, and left her lying half-dead in the street.

"I'm a robber Jenny,
Walk the road
avoid the toads.
Keep to the path,
don't make me laugh.
Look out for me,
Don't you flee!
I'm full of glee [at your naivety].

Share a cup, drink a fear;
A toilet seat is where we'll meet.
Shake a hand, watch a drop,
of sweat on hand, a one-night stand.
Night-time hugs and sighing breath
are the stuff I won't rebuff.

But hey Jenny, I'm no racist
Come one come all:
"Red and Yellow, Black and White,
you're precious in my sight.
I don't mind, I'm color blind - except for the red that is …

Red cheeked child
blue checked skies
a sickly pallor
I know the squalor – of who I am,
I'm a robber Jenny."

Now it happened that God's Man,
dressed Best Western,
with holy book and gilded pages,
was traveling the road.
He looks and sees and says - to himself:
"No. If I touch you –
if she even breathes into my face -
I might catch it
and take it home to my first born.
What then?
Sitting at table eating with number one
when he says:
'Pass the salt Daddy'
And I might give it to him."

And so the story goes
he walks by -
on the other side of the road -
leaving her in her blood.

When the losing ticket is death
who wants to play?
What if he helps the poor soul.
She might want to come to Church -
sitting next to him
when the cup comes by -
she drinks the lip stained chalice
And now it's his turn;

They kneel together, next to each other,
same church, same pew, same cup:
She hands on the cup:
'Hello - I'm Jenny and I have AIDS.'
Pass the cup or the salt –
what's the difference?
What can God's Man do
but walk the other side of the road.

Next, along comes –
a sister striding in hurry
to gather voters for the cause
of red, white and blue.
One Way! One nation under God Supreme!
Fare thee well but not in a well-fared state –
She looks and sees her sister
lying in her blood
but she's caught late and she's afraid -
so with full mind and mind flag set
she moves on and passes by
on the other side of the road.

A third person comes shuffling along,
eyes down, looking here and there,
moving from can to can
this time it's GS himself -
armed with WalMart trolley -
bulging black bags swinging with cans.

A dirt caked GS –with the words "Just do it"
on his faded tye-dyed shirt?
Who is he? …garbed in yesterday's fashion
with frayed trousers and tattoed neck
smelling so bad –
no doubt off to wet his lips and pan his favorite spot
to feel the foil of a Lucky Strike.
Shunned by wife – unknown to children's touch.
His white picket fence – an old gray blanket
Picked from a dumpster.

A homeless GS, with stained coat and unwashed face
Give me a break!
But ….he's the one - who stops, sees,
and takes a good, long look,
and is moved by the plight of the half-dead woman.
He stoops down,
picks her up gently wrapping her in his blanket.
Spends his panned mula –
not on 16 ounce proof – but on a water bottle
To refresh her lips,
dials 911 and sits in the ambulance.
He will not leave her until he sees –
She's safe in Enloe's ER
Then and only then – does he shuffle away.

So … Who is my neighbor?