A similarly troubling picture of justice arises when a person is trying to help a victim, but ends up becoming the victim herself—such as when a passerby stops to administer CPR and winds up, for whatever reason, with a lawsuit on her hands. A newspaper column by Abigail Van Buren, known to her readers as "Dear Abby," lamented the increasing need for Good Samaritans to stop and consider the risk before providing assistance. While Abby herself noted there was no excuse to withhold help, one reader was insistent. In places without a "Good Samaritan law," which removes the liability of the one providing assistance, "people who offer a helping hand place themselves potentially at financial and emotional risk." She continued, "I only hope that I have the presence of mind in the future to withhold assistance in a state that has no Good Samaritan law." While the law of human nature seems to assure the majority of people will pass by an accident assuming that someone else will help out, the laws of litigation seem to warn Good Samaritans to watch their backs altogether. Consequently, in many cases, no one does anything. The victim remains the victim; the Samaritan remains unscathed.
I suppose it should not come as a surprise that we have hyper-individualized one of the most non-individualistic characters in all of storytelling. The very point of the parable of the Good Samaritan is to teach that I cannot hold these hierarchical distinctions, whether thinking in terms of race, religion, or personal liability. By the very definition Jesus offered, the Samaritan's presence of mind is the exact opposite of self-awareness. He places himself in the center of harm's way (not knowing if the thieves are still nearby), not to mention the tremendous disdain for showing disregard to cultural norms (he was a Samaritan who should have been keeping to himself). The assurance of coming out unscathed could hardly be the Samaritan's motive for reaching out. On the contrary, the Samaritan places himself in a position where he is certain to bear the cost.
While it is indeed regrettable that the current state of the world seems to necessitate self-consciousness in dealing with our neighbors, it is both appalling and unreasonable that I might assume this was not the same scenario for the crowd who first heard the story. It might seem to reason that the Good Samaritan only helped because it was not a liability for him, giving myself a rational exemption: "If it weren't for the law, I would be more than willing to see that person as my neighbor." In fact, the one who first asked the question that merited Jesus's telling of the parable was thinking quite similarly. His very question, "Who is my neighbor?" betrays his philosophy that the world can be classified in terms of commodities: "There are those I am responsible to help, and there are those I am not responsible to help." And he bases these distinctions on his reading of the law. Albeit a different kind of law than the laws that discourage from helping today, it is a similar use of legalism all the same.
Yet Jesus calls the questioner away from his legalistic mindset with a story that turns these categories into smoke and mirrors. Instead of the stance of self-awareness that asks "What will happen to me if I stop and help this man?" a far better question is posed on these lips of mine who has much to lose: "What will happen to this man if I don't stop?" Setting aside the categories that could easily hold him back, the Good Samaritan has room to hold the very commandment on which all the law and the prophets hang: You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength, and your neighbor as yourself. With this wisdom in hand, the Good Samaritan, me and every other person that carries his presence of mind today, is not far from the kingdom of God.
