Jesus’ Own Good Samaritan

Alone on the way in the dark — and the night seemed particularly dark — Jesus had given no thought to sleep or indeed anything but his presence on this dark road. He had no anxiety or plan. He just was.

And into the middle of that state he felt a hand on his shoulder. He did not jump. He turned slowly to see the face of a man of the same height. There was hardly a word spoken between them.

“I live not far from here.”

Then.

“Here.”

Soon Jesus found himself lying comfortably in a space all his own, drifting into sleep.

There was little more interaction the next morning. Jesus passed the man as he left the small house. He said thank you. The man nodded.

There was no curiosity. No why. Just the reality. Visceral need. Visceral response.

Later, as he walked swiftly on, thinking he might see the river soon, Jesus thought of an old story of someone doing good to a complete stranger and asking nothing in return.

Then came these words within.

“There is only the fruit of knowing, the actual deed. Who anyone is. is the deed. No words. None needed. Just the truth, the simple truth.”

The man never actually appeared when Jesus thought of him later. He would be there, but opaque. There was a state of helping others beyond all religion and ceremony, beyond baptism. No preamble needed. Elemental. Grown child-like.