The Good Samaritan at Calais

“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.”