Thomas J Parlette
“When a Parable Becomes a Cliché”
Luke 10: 25-37
7/13/25
What happens when a parable becomes a cliché? Can we know a parable so well, heard it so many times, that it has nothing new to say to us?
I would bet that more than half of us gathered here today could re-tell this story from Luke from memory and we’d get pretty close to how we find it in the Bible. Oh, we might get the names of the characters a little confused – but the jist of the story would be there. Man travelling to Jerusalem, beaten by robbers and left for dead. A Priest sees him and passes by on the other side. A Levite sees, and passes by on the other side. But a Samaritan passes by, takes pity on the man and stops to help.
And we know the moral of the story right – stop and help those in need. That’s the point of the story right? We’ve heard it before, so many times it has become a bit of a cliché. In fact, a whole travelers organization, complete with bumper stickers - “The Good Samaritan Club” - has grown out of our understanding of this story.
But living in a litigious society as we do, people got a little wary about stopping to help strangers – I mean, if something went wrong, if what you meant as assistance actually made the situation worse, you might get sued. So, maybe it was wiser to pass by on the other side and keep going.
That’s why all 50 states have enacted Good Samaritan Laws that codify the point of this parable. (1)
The finale of the popular sitcom “Seinfeld” played on the passage of these laws when the main characters witness a crime, even videotaping it – but they don’t stop to help. As a result, they are arrested and thrown in jail because they weren’t “Good Samaritans” It was one of the most divisive series finales in TV history.
But, as I understand them, Good Samaritan Laws are meant to protect people who DO step in and help in an emergency, shielding them from lawsuits if things don’t work out – not penalize people who choose not to get involved.
But stopping what we are doing and dropping everything to help someone out in an emergency situation – is that really the point here? Or is Jesus getting at something more?
This story comes during a time in Jesus’ ministry when he has “set his face to Jerusalem.” Meaning, he was determined to go to the center of it all and preach his message. On the way, a group of his followers went ahead of him to scout out the local villages. They came across a Samaritan village that refused to welcome them.
This infuriated some of the disciples, especially the Sons of Thunder, James and John. They wanted to give them permission to call down fire from heaven and destroy the village – the nerve of those Samaritans, how dare they!
But Jesus said, “No – leave them be. Let’s move on to another village.”
Not long after that incident, a lawyer stood up at one of Jesus’ lectures and asked, “Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
Sensing a possible trap, Jesus asks the lawyer, “What is written in the law? What do you read there?”
And the lawyer says, “You shall love the Lord your God with everything you’ve got, and your neighbor as yourself.”
“Bingo,” says Jesus. “You’ve given the right answer. Do this, and you will live.”
But then the lawyer pushes just a little bit farther. Wanting to justify himself, wanting to show how much he knows and how skilled he is at these kinds of debates, he asks Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”
The lawyer is looking for loopholes, he is looking for ways to make this charge of “love your neighbor”, something that can be managed. He is really asking, “Who is NOT my neighbor?” Who do I not have to worry about here? Where are the limits on this idea of neighbor?” (2)
Frederick Buechner writes: “When Jesus said to love your neighbor, a lawyer who was present asked him to clarify what he meant by neighbor. He wanted a legal definition he could refer to in case the question of loving one ever happened to come up. He presumably wanted something on the order of: “A neighbor (hereinafter referred to as the party of the first part) is to be construed as meaning a person of Jewish descent whose legal residence is within a radius of no more than three statute miles from one’s own legal residence unless there is another person of Jewish descent (hereinafter referred to as the party of the second part) living closer to the party of the first part than one is oneself, in which case the party of the second part is to be construed as neighbor to the party of the first part and one is oneself relieved of all responsibility of any sort or kind whatsoever.”
“Instead,” says Buechner, “Jesus told the story of the Good Samaritan, the point of which seems to be that your neighbor is to be construed as meaning anybody who needs you.” (3)
After Jesus tells this story that we know so well, he turns back to the lawyer with one more question. “Who do you think was a neighbor to the man who was beaten up and robbed.” The answer is obvious – “The one who showed him mercy.”
And Jesus said – “Go and do likewise.”
Two little things to take notice of – first, Jesus never refers to the Samaritan as being “good.” There is not mention of his character or his intentions. We have come to know him as “good” simply by what he does. His actions tell us all we need to know. The Samaritan, a member of that hated tribe, the one you wanted to rain down heavenly fire on just a few days ago – he is the one who shows kindness. Which brings us to the second little detail we might overlook because we know this story so well. Notice that the lawyer, in answering Jesus’ final question, can’t even bring himself to say the word, “Samaritan.” He only says, “The one who showed him mercy.”
Kurt Vonnegut, the best-selling author and noted Christian was once asked by a young American from Pittsburgh, named Joe, “Please tell me it will all be okay”- perhaps the contemporary American equivalent of asking “what must I do to inherit eternal life.”
And Vonnegut, in his no-nonsense style said, “Welcome to earth, young man. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It’s round and wet and crowded. At the outside, Joe, you’ve got about 100 years here. There’s only one rule that I know – you’ve got to be kind.” (4)
That in itself is a worthy goal. That’s a good note to leave this story on – approach life with kindness. Help those in need. That’s the moral of this story that has become a cliché.
But Jesus subtly pushes this parable to an uncomfortable place. Yes, the biblical ethic of kindness is important here, but so is the recognition that such behavior frequently comes from unexpected sources.
Amy-Jill Levine, a Jewish biblical scholar who specializes in bringing a Jewish perspective to Christian scripture, encourages us to think of ourselves, not as the one who stops to help, but as the one in the ditch, near death and desperately needing help. She challenges us to ask, “Is there anyone, from any group, about whom we’d rather die than acknowledge, “She offered help”, or “He showed compassion?” More, is there any group whose members might rather die than help us? If so, then we know how to find the modern equivalent for the Samaritan. To recognize the shock and possibility of the parable in practical, political and pastoral terms, we might translate its first-century geographical and religious concerns into our modern idiom.” (5) If we can imagine ourselves in the ditch, this parable is rescued from becoming a cliché.
Imagine that you’re walking downtown, and you start to feel funny. You collapse to the ground – you’re having a stroke. A businessman approaches, engrossed in a very important phone call. He sees you are in distress – he crosses to other side of the street and keeps walking. A priest, dressed in black and sporting his white collar, approaches. He too, sees you on the ground and crosses the street and keeps walking. Finally, a woman approaches, wearing flowing robes, her head and face covered with a scarf – she stops and helps.
Kindness from an unexpected source. We assume this parable is about us, we are called to stop and offer assistance. And that is true. But we are also called to accept assistance as well. Who is our neighbor? The one who shows mercy – whoever that is.
In 2018, a man named Robert Bowers entered the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and brutally killed 11 people before being subdued by the police.
In the emergency room at Allegheny General Hospital, he was shouting, “I want to kill all the Jews.”
If he only knew that at least three of the doctors and nurses working to save his life were Jewish, according to the hospital’s President, Jeffrey K Cohen.
“We’re here to take care of sick people,” Cohen, who is a member of the congregation where the massacre happened, said in an interview with the local news. “We’re not here to judge you. We’re not here to ask, “Do you have insurance?” We’re here to take care of people who need our help…
Cohen was personally connected to the shooting beyond his role at the hospital. He lives in the neighborhood, he heard the gunshots, he knew 9 of the people who were killed.
Still, that did not stop him from going to check in on Bowers, to ask him whether he was in pain.
“He asked me who I was, I said, “I’m Dr. Cohen, the President of the hospital.”
“And I turned around and left.”
An FBI agent who was guarding Bowers said, “I don’t know that I could have done that.” (6)
It was probably tempting to say some choice words to this vicious murder who had just killed 11 people at your church. But Dr. Cohen simply showed kindness, and did what he could to help. Who was the neighbor in this story? The one who showed mercy, not revenge.
We think we know this story so well, so well that it almost becomes a cliché. But there is always something new to consider. One of the best known interpretations of this story is by Martin Luther King Jr. He referenced it during his last sermon – the “I’ve been to the mountaintop” sermon. King interprets the story to encourage his audience to overcome fear and cultivate what he called “a kind of dangerous unselfishness.” He imagines that the two who pass by recognize the man who was injured and probably wanted to help – but because of the dangerousness of the territory, they were afraid for their own lives. And so the Priest and Levite thought to themselves, “If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?” But the Samaritan reversed the question, and exhibited a dangerous unselfishness, asking, “If I don’t stop to help this man, what will happen to him?” (7)
Stop to help those in need – that seems to be the clichéd point of this parable. But Jesus was subtly saying some other things too. Extending kindness is a good thing – yes. But acknowledging that even your most hated enemy can also show mercy, that’s the kind of dangerous unselfishness that this story calls us to exhibit.
May God be praised. Amen.
1. Homileticsonline, retrieved 6/23/25.
2. Stanley P. Saunders, Connections, Westminster John Knox Press, 2019, p 157.
3. Frederick Buechner, Beyond Words: Daily Readings in the ABC’s of Faith (Harper One, 2004) p 281.
4. Douglas John Hall, Feasting on the Word, Westminster John Knox Press, 2010, p 240.
5. Cynthia Jarvis, Feasting on the Word, Westminster John Knox Press, 2010, p 242.
6. Eli Rosenberg, “I’m Dr. Cohen”: The powerful humanity of the Jewish hospital staff that treated Robert Bowers,” The Washington Post, Oct. 30th, 2018.
7. Homileticsonline, retrieved 6/23/25.
