“The Good Samaritan.” Everyone knows the phrase. This
weekend, two things have made me really reflect on the meaning of this
expression. The first, a sermon I heard in Church this Sunday, made me consider
the nature of the Good Samaritan’s love. The second, the BBC’s decision to film
this week’s Songs of Praise in a migrant camp in Calais, made me think about
who our society's Samaritans are.
Often, when we say “Good Samaritans”, we mean a passer-by
who helps someone in need. There’s nothing wrong with that, but it
unintentionally understates the love of the Good Samaritan. In the parable, Jesus
describes how both a priest and an assistant in the temple walk past a man who
had been attacked on a remote road. They, of all people would have been
expected to help a fellow Jewish person in need, and yet they ignored him.
Instead, it is a man from Samaria who stops to help. Traditionally, Samaritans
and Jews hated each other. Some Jewish people would even avoid travelling
through Samaria because its people were considered unclean. In the minds of
those listening, there was no way a Samaritan would stop to help a Jewish
person. Yet Jesus commands his audience to love those society hates. The Good
Samaritan is more than someone who helps a stranger. It is somebody who defies
society’s expectations with a radical, countercultural compassion that reflects
God’s own love for the unloved. It is
the love that led some German Christians to care for their Jewish neighbour in
the 1930s. It is a love that Christians should exemplify, though too often
those of other faiths and none have put us to shame.
Who are the Samaritans of today? Who are the ones that
we aren’t expected to love? Who is constantly reviled in the media? Whose
suffering is actively ignored by so much of the political establishment?
This week, Songs of Praise, hardly the most controversial
programme, took the bold decision to visit a makeshift church in Calais’ migrant
camp. Personally, I found the feature deeply moving. Some sections of public
opinions thought the same. Others, of course, did not.
“Hymnigrants!” screamed the Sun. “A BBC stunt gone wrong!”
chimed the Daily Mail. Several MPs such as Phillip Hollobone were similarly unimpressed.
Twitter had its own chorus of disapproval, with many dismissing it as “propaganda”
paid for by the license fee-payer. Some of the criticism centred on the idea
that the BBC were somehow promoting “criminal activity.”
But many
migrants will in fact be eligible for asylum. I know a migrant who came to the
UK via Calais. Ironically enough, he was fleeing the very sort of regime that
the Daily Mail would have us believe that migrants are trying to bring to
Britain. Though he entered illegally, he has now been given asylum. He is not
alone. Even those who are not will have
endured the unendurable. We should be ashamed of the way they are being
treated.
Christians have many legitimate perspectives on immigration.
I don’t wish to politicise the parable of the Good Samaritan. I merely want to
explore the outworking of its radical, countercultural love.
Whatever we think about immigration, the parable of the Good
Samaritan compels us to care for those who are hated by society. There are no
terms and conditions. Nothing, including behaviour we think is wrong, can
exclude anyone from this love.
In one particularly moving part of the programme discussed the
work of Christians at the camp. In particular, they interviewed a volunteer
from a Church in Kent. Those from Kent, having absorbed a disproportionate number
of migrants, would be most expected to resent those at Calais. Instead, these
Christians spoke of their duty to love the unloved. Taking into account the
criticism of the Daily Mail and the Sun, we might be tempted to ask the very
question that Jesus asked his listeners:
“Which of these three do you think was a neighbour to the
one in need?”
I think the answer is pretty clear.
We may not be able to visit Calais, there are still some
ways we can follow the Good Samaritan’s example. When we talk about migrants
and when we see the headlines that vilify them, we can be the dissenting voice
that affirms their humanity. When it comes to election time, though there is no
one “Christian party”, we can think about the way we can use the vote to love
our neighbour, be they in Britain or Calais. At the very least, we can pray for
the wellbeing of migrants in Calais.
Whatever we think about immigration, we simply can’t ignore
Jesus’ words at the end of this parable.
“Go and do likewise.”
