Who Is My Neighbor? Lenten Devotion Series: Week 6
But a Samaritan while traveling came near him, and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put in on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him.
Luke 10:33-34 NRSV
In this parable from Luke, a man is beaten, robbed, and left half dead on the side of the road. A priest comes by – someone with religious authority, influence, and a full calendar. He sees the man and deliberately passes by on the other side. Then a Levite comes – a person of privilege and religious standing – who also sees the man and crosses over to avoid him. I’ve often wondered: what did they tell themselves in that moment? What story did they construct in their own minds to walk past a bleeding, half-dead man?
Maybe it sounded like this:
Not my job.
Not my responsibility.
I’m too busy.
I’m too important.
This might be dangerous.
Someone else will come along.
But here’s the truth the parable exposes: you cannot claim to serve God while refusing to see the person bleeding in front of you. Their problem is not bad theology on paper; it is a heart that has learned how to look at suffering and keep moving.
Now in 2026, we have an opportunity to “hold the mirror up and see our own reflection” and ask ourselves how we are responding to the people we encounter in need. Do we see the refugees, asylum seekers, and any other immigrants in our communities who are cut off from safety, stability, and hope? We see images of families at the border, children in detention, people dropped off in unfamiliar cities with nothing but a plastic bag and a court date. And like the priest and the Levite, we are tempted to explain why we can’t, or won’t, respond.
It’s too political.
We don’t have time.
We don’t have the budget.
It’s not our issue.
They should have done it “the right way.”
These are modern versions of crossing to the other side of the road.
Meanwhile, there are “Samaritans” all around us – people and ministries who stop, tend to wounds, share resources, and walk alongside our immigrant and refugee neighbors. They are not perfect, but they are present. They are not asking, “Is this safe for my reputation?” They are asking, “What does mercy require of me right now?” When we ignore both the people who have fallen and the people who stop to help, we are standing shoulder to shoulder with the priest and the Levite, rehearsing our reasons as we walk away.
Lent is a season to be honest about what we tell ourselves to justify not responding and how we cross to the other side. Jesus ends the story with a simple question and a clear command: “Which of these three was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?” The answer is obvious: “The one who showed mercy.” And Jesus does not say, “Go and think likewise,” or “Go and feel likewise,” but “Go and do likewise.” Mercy is not just an attitude; it is action.
A theology of welcome means we ask the Spirit to interrupt us, to rearrange our schedules, our priorities, even our comfort, so that our lives look less like the priest and Levite and more like the Samaritan. The question for us this Lent is not, “Who is my neighbor?” but “Am I willing to be one?”
Prayer
God of compassion, expose the excuses we whisper to ourselves when we cross to the other side of the road. Interrupt our schedules, unsettle our comfort, and soften our hearts so that we no longer ignore the wounded or those who care for them. By your Spirit, teach us to see, to stop, and to show mercy, so that when you say, “Go and do likewise,” our answer is not just in our words but in our lives.
The Rev. Dr. Candace M. Lewis is an ordained elder in the Florida Conference of The United Methodist Church and the first woman elected as president and CEO of Gammon Theological Seminary in Atlanta.
