Luke 10:25-37
“An expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. ‘Teacher,’ he said, ‘what must I do to inherit eternal life?’ He said to him, “\’What is written in the law? What do you read there?’ He answered, ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind and your neighbor as yourself.’ And he said to him, ‘You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.’
But wanting to vindicate himself, he asked Jesus, ‘And who is my neighbor?”’Jesus replied, ‘A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and took off, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a priest was going down that road, and when he saw him he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan while traveling came upon him, and when he saw him he was moved with compassion. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, treating them with oil and wine. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him, and when I come back I will repay you whatever more you spend.’ Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?’ He said, ‘The one who showed him mercy.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Go and do likewise.’”
Compassion is costly. In today’s parable, the good Samaritan’s choice of compassion costs him a lot. Money is maybe the most recognizable cost – two denarii paid to the innkeeper. Time, which feels elusive in modern society, stands out as the second form of cost. Surely, this Samaritan had a motive for traveling this road – a to-do to take care of. Will there be ample time to accomplish it now, despite the inconvenience? However, I think there is a more costly component to compassion than either time or money.
Consider:
The naked, beat-up, half dead man.
The compassion the Samaritan felt.
The promise made by the Samaritan to reimburse the innkeeper for an unknown amount.
The price of compassion is comfort. I think we, like the Samaritan, can experience discomfort in the following three ways, which parallel the above examples:
Discomfort in the embodied experience or the realization of a bad situation. I’m sure the Samaritan was deeply disturbed by the visual appearance of the man and frightened when he realized the state of the man’s physical wellbeing.
Discomfort in our own emotional reaction to the circumstance. The Samaritan is said to have experienced compassion. I imagine this compassion lingered with him long after he left the man with the innkeeper. Why did these roads have to be so unsafe and full of violence? What hate or distress could cause someone to brutally harm another person?
Discomfort in the uncertainty of what may come. The Samaritan didn’t know whether his efforts would enable the man to live, nor did he know what additional financial cost the innkeeper would hold him to when he returned the next day.
So, what’s the pitch for compassion, then? In my own life, I’ve come to this:
I’m a climate economist. That means, I experience a lot of discomfort in constantly having to look at the latest research and face the reality of where our climate and natural systems on earth are at. It also means I struggle with climate grief, or “the grief felt in relation to experienced or anticipated ecological losses, including the loss of species, ecosystems, and meaningful landscapes due to acute or chronic environmental change” (Cunsolo & Ellis, 2018). I also must sit with the uncertainty of how humanity will choose to respond to the climate crisis. My efforts as a researcher, alone, are not sufficient to secure a positive outcome.
And yet, I am committed to this work. This manifestation of compassion – empathy and action – for the planet and every creature on it. Because if I don’t show compassion, there is no uncertainty, and I’m uncomfortable with our current reality. But it is in the uncertainty, even with compassion’s cost of comfort, where I can dream of a communal compassion big enough to steward God’s creation well. Hope.
How can you be compassionate towards God’s creation today?