In the discussion Jesus had with a certain lawyer, about
good neighborliness Jesus picked a vague Character whose identity was
shrouded in mystery and therefore referred to as a Certain Man.
This certain man was traveling
from one place to another; it could have been for anything. He could have been
any man going for something or responding to something; something that drew him
to where he was going, or something that pushed him from where he was. Nonetheless,
he was going out for a purpose.
It is told that along this
journey, he fell among thieves who brutalized him and robbed him of his
personal effects leaving him half dead in the middle of nowhere; hoping he would
be dead by the time the next human shadow showed up.
As he laid there in the
blistering heat, cleaving on to life with gripping tenacity, praying and
struggling to hold on to it a little longer, keenly awake to his humiliation,
bruises, brokenness and nothingness,
there came to pass a couple of people. As we know it, most did not stop. Not
the priest, not the Levite. I am wondering what was going through his mind as
these people stuck their noses in the air, set their faces straight and walked on.
I am sure he felt more pain in his heart at the betrayal than the wounds he was
reeling from.
But can you fault them; the
people that walked away. They had their plans; it was nothing personal. They
did not hate him; they were just too busy to be slowed down. Every minute they
wasted on this man was at a cost to them; a cost they were not ready to incur. They
were looking at the avalanche of inconvenience that a moment's pause was going to
unleash on them. Who travels with a sick stranger? What if it was a trap? You
attempt to help and suddenly people from nowhere spring up and rob you too.
What if in your attempt to help, they become a burden; a burden you must take
care of even after they are well and ok. It could even be that they were too
lost in their own pressing thoughts they did not notice him.
Then, one man, who could have
given any of these fair reasons, decided to do the abnormal; He stopped. He actually
stopped to look at the injured man and had compassion on him. He got
emotionally involved with him. He was aware of the time cost in attempting to
cater for the injured man, but he was willing to pay it. It was going to throw
him off his schedule because he was not just idling in the wilderness looking
for wounded strangers to help. He was about some business of a sort. However,
he felt that could wait; this was a pressing matter. He was willing to
bear the cost.
He took the man and cleaned his
wounds; his wounded pride, his torn emotions, his scarred psyche, his bruised ego.
He cleaned him; cleaned him from all the dust of his fall, the pieces of stones
that stuck in his flesh…stones that hurt with every turn, stones of abuse,
rejection and shame. He cleaned up everything.
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Then he poured in the wine….he
poured in the wine to prevent the wounds from festering, he attempted to help
prevent the degeneration of the wounds; sinking in of the insults and the
abuse, acceptance of the fact that he was nothing and could be nothing. He was
preventing the wounds from going deeper into his blood and mind and heart and make
him see himself as what the robbers wanted him to see himself as; vulnerable,
cheap, helpless, waste, incompetent, loser, good for using and dumping, good
for nothing but one’s amusement. He was preventing the scars from becoming
permanent…permanent fear of the dark, of men, of women, of getting pregnant
again, of trusting again, of marriage, of believing in God again… he had to
stop it from going further into the skin…these bodily injuries…
After he had washed his wounds
with wine, he poured in the oil….he soothed his wounds, told him everything
would be fine; hushed him up from crying or complaining. He did not allow him
to ask, ‘why me?’. He only bound he
wounds with the soothing oil. He made him feel cared for, loved cherished,
wanted and alive again. He gave him hope that in the midst of human cruelty and
abandonment there could be salvation; that nothing was lost.
At his own cost and trouble, this Samaritan took the
afflicted man to an inn. There he had him sheltered until he was fully
recovered. He did not see it as a ‘half and half’ effort. No. he took full
responsibility of him. ‘Some’ was not enough, ‘everything’ was. The Samaritan
wanted to be sure that the next time the injured man saw the sun, he would have
forgotten about the pains of yesterday; the hurt, the brokenness, the
dissipated dreams and promises, the disappointment and humiliation. He wanted
him to wake up and forget his nightmare. He made sure it was done and it was on
his account.
Life is full of challenges and
tragedies. Everyone is in to get what they want; and for some people it is with
force and brutality. They take what is yours by every means possible, leaving
you naked, humiliated, shamed, and wounded in spirit and in heart, after which
they leave you to die. The shocking part is your pastor may not be that
interested in you beyond his tithe and offertory, and your family members may
be too busy to be slowed by you and your problems. They don’t hate you, it is
nothing personal, they are just going their way and you are also going to lie
there and rot.
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After life has battered your
wife…your husband and left them to die, tell them….your wife…tell your husband...tell them you love them. Help them forget the abuse and humiliation they must suffer and
the daily struggles they must go through in order to have and provide for the
home. Pour in the wine and stop the festering of the wounds your wife bears…the
daily humiliation, abuse and discrimination because she is a woman. Pour in the
wine to close the broken flesh of your partner’s servitude, because they do not
have all the requisite papers; academic qualifications or work permits, because
they do not come from certain backgrounds, tribe or race.
Life can leave us with wounded
pride, shattered dreams and crushed aspirations. And as we lie licking our
wounds, our secret prayers are that our loved ones will not abandon us, look
the other way or become so engrossed in something else that they suddenly do not
care.
In the hour of need, when all
that is left is anger, pain and bitterness, lost faith and broken confidence, it's up to us to pour in the wine, clean the wounds, prevent them from
festering, stop the pain from becoming entrenched. Discourage them from being discouraged;
stop them from stopping and giving up. Stop the rapid growth of bitterness,
hopelessness and a sense of unworthiness. Then pour in the oil, to calm their
fear, sooth their pain, show them a better perspective, comfort their hearts,
encourage them, strengthen them, challenge them, reignite them. Pour in the oil
and bind their wounds.
And when you are done, provide them
with shelter; the shelter of your love, comfort, a sense of security, daily
bouts of assurance, trust, support, presence, fidelity, faithfulness, care and
charity. Shelter them spiritually, physically, emotionally and psychologically.
Shelter them from your family members because she or he is not like your
sisters or brothers. Shelter them from the heckling of the crows you call
friends and employers. Shelter them.
Make sure that when they step out
the following day to take on the battle of life, they would be so healed they
would forget the scars of yesterday.
Yes, it would come at a cost to you;
it will cost you your time, your money and your energy. Nevertheless, whatever
you choose to be, the story talks of two classes of people, those who did not
help and those who helped. Someone somehow in some way would help. No one will
die where they are not destined to die.
As a man, you can be the Priest
to your wife, pretend you do not see what she is going through and pray no
Samaritan comes along. As a woman, you can be too busy, leave your husband
broken, and hope there are no Samaritans coming his way. Alternatively, you can
be that Samaritan man…or woman…and you can be pouring in your oil, binding
their wounds, and bringing them to full recovery, at your cost.
It is up to you to choose where
you want to stand in this picture. However, your husband is broken, humiliated,
tired, robbed, wounded, offended and everything that can kill a man’s spirit
has been thrown him. Choose to care for him, let him be your concern
because a man who is embittered in one aspect of his life can cause pain to
others in other aspects of his life. A man whose wounded pride and dignity is
allowed to fester, becomes a bad business to meddle in. Pour in the wine and the
oil, bind his wounds and make sure he does not go down under that weight. Someone is telling your wife her promotion is
contingent on getting into bed with her. Someone is making her feel useless
because she is a woman, someone is denying her her rightful place because she
is a woman and therefore vulnerable. Every day, out there for her, is a
constant struggle. When she comes home with all the wounds and the dripping
blood, you can look the other way and pretend you have not seen her or that it
is a normal thing, and go about your duty; or you can take her in, help her
take her mind off it, sooth her fears and nurse her to fullness overnight.
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It is not easy on him that he
cannot impregnate you; it is not easy on her that she cannot get pregnant. It
is killing her; the miscarriages. His inability to provide all the fine things
he sees around is killing him. He wished he were your dream man, she wished she were
everything your star mum you are doted on was and more. If she could undo the humiliations
she has suffered from her past relationships, she would. If he could manage the
many betrayals he has suffered in the hands of women, he would. These are his
wounds… her bruises….help them heal. Do not abandon them; do not punish them
for what they may not have had a hand in. Do not leave them to their fate. Ease
the burden on their minds and hearts and tell them it would be all right. Help
them forget the pains of yesterday….because if you choose to be their Priest,
God will bring their way a Samaritan.
~PG Sebastian~
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