The parable of the Good Samaritan: the unexpurgated postscript
… And Jesus concluded, “Which one of these three, do you think, was a neighbour to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?”
He said, “The one who showed him mercy.”
Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”
Jesus’ interlocutor (whose name was Monty) said, “You mean, be kind to those in trouble or need?”
“Exactly,” said Jesus, “whoever they are, whoever you are.”
“Ya think?” Monty said. “You finally land the plane, and that’s your point?”
“Don’t you think it’s rather provocative,” suggested Jesus, with a teacher’s indulgence, “that it was a Samaritan, of all people, who showed kindness?”
“And why shouldn’t a Samaritan show kindness?” Monty demanded. “You got a problem with Samaritans?”
“No, of course not,” Jesus replied, a little defensively it must be said. “Don’t you see that …”
“Next you’ll be protesting that some of your best friends are Samaritans,” Monty interrupted.
“No, I was …”
“So you don’t have any Samaritan friends?”
“Well, yes, actually, I do,” countered Jesus. “There’s a woman I met at a well.”
“What’s her name?” Monty asked.
“Er,” hesitated Jesus. “To be honest, I can’t remember. I didn’t ask.”
“You didn’t ask? But you hang out together?” Monty pressed.
“Well, no, not exactly,” Jesus conceded.
“So you met this Samaritan woman, you don’t know her name, you don’t hang out together, yet you say she’s a friend of yours?” Monty smirked.
“Well, okay then,” Jesus backtracked, “she’s an acquaintance.”
“Just as I thought,” Monty declared. “Anyone else?”
“Well,” Jesus replied, trying to regain the initiative, “I recently healed a Samaritan – of eczema, as I recall. I saw him twice.”
“Twice, is it? As a patient? I guess that makes him a bosom buddy,” said Monty, ratcheting up the sarcasm.
“Well, no, but …”
“Another ‘acquaintance’ then?” Monty was relentless.
“Well, yes, but look,” an exasperated Jesus began to explain, “what I was doing was telling a story about a Samaritan to make a point about kindness and prejudice.”
“So it never happened. It’s fake news.” Monty was merciless.
“No, no, no” Jesus said shaking his head, “you’re making a category mistake.”
“A what?”
“A category mistake,” repeated Jesus. “It’s a semantic error in which …” he continued, then paused. Looking up from the bottom of a huge hole, he decided to stop digging. “Never mind,” he said.
“Okay, okay, tell me this,” Monty asked, going for the jugular. “Are any of your disciples Samaritans?”
Now completely discombobulated, Jesus sighed, “No, but …”
“Yes-but, no-but,” mocked Monty. “So you’ve got no friends who are Samaritans, and no disciples who are Samaritans, yet you bang on about a good Samaritan in a made-up story. You’re all mouth, aren’t you, Jesus? ‘Samaritan Lives Matter’.” Not to mention that you have a go at two fellow Jews in your little fable – two Jewish clerics – low-hanging fruit, or what? I mean talk about ethnic and religious profiling. What, are you some sort of self-loathing Israelite?”
“Now hang on …” Jesus remonstrated.
But Monty stopped him again. “I suppose the next thing you’re going to tell me is that you know some Roman who, iconically, has great faith.”
“Well, now that you mention it …”
He said, “The one who showed him mercy.”
Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”
Jesus’ interlocutor (whose name was Monty) said, “You mean, be kind to those in trouble or need?”
“Exactly,” said Jesus, “whoever they are, whoever you are.”
“Ya think?” Monty said. “You finally land the plane, and that’s your point?”
“Don’t you think it’s rather provocative,” suggested Jesus, with a teacher’s indulgence, “that it was a Samaritan, of all people, who showed kindness?”
“And why shouldn’t a Samaritan show kindness?” Monty demanded. “You got a problem with Samaritans?”
“No, of course not,” Jesus replied, a little defensively it must be said. “Don’t you see that …”
“Next you’ll be protesting that some of your best friends are Samaritans,” Monty interrupted.
“No, I was …”
“So you don’t have any Samaritan friends?”
“Well, yes, actually, I do,” countered Jesus. “There’s a woman I met at a well.”
“What’s her name?” Monty asked.
“Er,” hesitated Jesus. “To be honest, I can’t remember. I didn’t ask.”
“You didn’t ask? But you hang out together?” Monty pressed.
“Well, no, not exactly,” Jesus conceded.
“So you met this Samaritan woman, you don’t know her name, you don’t hang out together, yet you say she’s a friend of yours?” Monty smirked.
“Well, okay then,” Jesus backtracked, “she’s an acquaintance.”
“Just as I thought,” Monty declared. “Anyone else?”
“Well,” Jesus replied, trying to regain the initiative, “I recently healed a Samaritan – of eczema, as I recall. I saw him twice.”
“Twice, is it? As a patient? I guess that makes him a bosom buddy,” said Monty, ratcheting up the sarcasm.
“Well, no, but …”
“Another ‘acquaintance’ then?” Monty was relentless.
“Well, yes, but look,” an exasperated Jesus began to explain, “what I was doing was telling a story about a Samaritan to make a point about kindness and prejudice.”
“So it never happened. It’s fake news.” Monty was merciless.
“No, no, no” Jesus said shaking his head, “you’re making a category mistake.”
“A what?”
“A category mistake,” repeated Jesus. “It’s a semantic error in which …” he continued, then paused. Looking up from the bottom of a huge hole, he decided to stop digging. “Never mind,” he said.
“Okay, okay, tell me this,” Monty asked, going for the jugular. “Are any of your disciples Samaritans?”
Now completely discombobulated, Jesus sighed, “No, but …”
“Yes-but, no-but,” mocked Monty. “So you’ve got no friends who are Samaritans, and no disciples who are Samaritans, yet you bang on about a good Samaritan in a made-up story. You’re all mouth, aren’t you, Jesus? ‘Samaritan Lives Matter’.” Not to mention that you have a go at two fellow Jews in your little fable – two Jewish clerics – low-hanging fruit, or what? I mean talk about ethnic and religious profiling. What, are you some sort of self-loathing Israelite?”
“Now hang on …” Jesus remonstrated.
But Monty stopped him again. “I suppose the next thing you’re going to tell me is that you know some Roman who, iconically, has great faith.”
“Well, now that you mention it …”