Deuteronomy 30:10-14, Psalm 69 (68):14, 17, 30-31, 33-34, 37, Colossians 1:15-20 and Luke 10:25-37
The Nearness of Mercy: Seeing, Stopping, Saving
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ,
Today, the Word of God draws us into a conversation that strikes at the very heart of Christian living: What does it mean to love? Not just in word or sentiment, but in action, in sacrifice, in mercy.
From Deuteronomy to the Gospel of Luke, a common theme runs through today’s readings — a thread linking God’s law, the suffering of the soul, Christ’s supremacy, and the parable of the Good Samaritan. The message is evident: God’s Word is not distant. It’s close at hand, calling us to practice mercy rather than just admire it.
Let’s start where Moses addresses the people in the first reading (Deut 30). He tells them, “The command I give you today is not too difficult for you, nor is it beyond your reach… No, it is very close to you, in your mouth and in your heart, to follow it.” God is not playing hide and seek with His will. His call is not hidden in the heavens or hidden across the sea. It is near, accessible, and a part of daily life.
The opening message sets the stage for the parable Jesus shares in Luke 10:25-37. A law expert—someone well-versed in Torah, commandments, and details—asks, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus responds as He often does: With a question. “What is written in the law? How do you interpret it?” The expert says, “You shall love the Lord your God… and your neighbour as yourself.” Jesus confirms his answer, but the man asks again, “And who is my neighbour?”
Now, Jesus presents a vivid scene. A man—unknown and unseen—is assaulted by robbers, stripped, beaten, and left half-dead. A priest notices him but continues on his way. A Levite also sees him and passes by. Meanwhile, a Samaritan—an outsider and a religious adversary—sees the injured man, feels compassion, and stops to help. He tends to his wounds, applies oil and wine, lifts the man onto his animal, transports him to an inn, pays for his treatment, and commits to returning.
Three verbs matter here: he saw, he stopped, he saved.
Let’s unpack this.
Who Are the Characters?
The priest represents the religious elite, one bound by temple duty and ritual law. Perhaps he feared becoming unclean if the man were dead. Perhaps he was in a rush to maintain appearances. Either way, he saw, but he did not see deeply enough to be moved.
The Levite, a temple assistant, a man of status in the religious order, also walked by. Perhaps he told himself he had no authority, that someone else would handle it. He, too, saw but refused to be involved.
Then comes the Samaritan. He was a foreigner, from a people despised by the Jews. But he is the one who stops. He is the one who acts. He is the one who brings the heart of God into the ditch of a broken man.
Jesus asks: “Which of these three was a neighbour?” The scholar cannot even say the word “Samaritan”—he simply answers, “The one who showed mercy.” And Jesus replies, “Go and do likewise.”
Finding Ourselves in the Scripture
We may think this story is about them, but the truth is, it is about us. It is about you. It is about me.
Sometimes, we are the man in the ditch—beaten by life, abandoned by people, robbed of hope. Maybe it is illness, betrayal, addiction, or grief. We long for someone to stop and help.
Sometimes, we are the priest or Levite—busy, self-absorbed, religious on the surface, but detached from mercy. We justify our inaction, saying we are too tired, too poor, too busy, too unqualified.
But we are called to be the Samaritan—the one who sees suffering and refuses to ignore it. The one who crosses boundaries and takes risks. The one who embodies the mercy of Christ.
The Heart of Mercy
Let’s reflect on Psalm 69: “Answer me, O Lord, for bounteous is your kindness… The Lord hears the poor and his own who are in bonds, he spurns not.” This is a cry from someone in the ditch. God hears. And He acts—often through us. We become the instruments of His mercy.
And then Paul, in our second reading today, presents us with the cosmic picture: Christ, the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation, through whom all things were made. But this majestic Christ also brought peace “through the blood of His cross.” His supremacy is revealed not only in creation but also in reconciliation—drawing near to those who are far off.
The Samaritan in the parable serves as a shadow of Christ Himself—the one who came close when no one else would, bore our wounds, paid our debt, and promised to return.
Modern Reflections
Who lies beaten on the roadside today?
• The single mother juggling jobs and kids, unseen and overwhelmed.
• The refugee who has lost home and family, waiting for mercy from systems that walk by.
• The teenager who is bullied for being different and struggling in silence.
• The elderly neighbour whose phone never rings anymore.
• The man or woman kneeling at the train station, asking for help with a little coin and someone to chat with, but so many are in a hurry to catch the train. You can add your examples.
And who are we?
Do we scroll past suffering, move past it on the sidewalk, talk about mercy without living it? Or do we stop? Do we see with the eyes of Christ?
Mercy is not convenience. Mercy is costly. It takes time, effort, and risk. But it also heals, not just the wounded, but the one who stops to help.
Final Word
Jesus says, “Go and do likewise.” The Greek word for mercy used here, eleos, is not sentiment. It is action. It is love that stoops. Love that bleeds. Love that bears the burdens of others.
The Samaritan did not merely feel compassion. He acted on it. That is the closeness Moses spoke of. That is the greatness Paul proclaimed. That is the mercy the Psalmist begged for. And that is the mercy Jesus commands us to live by.
So today, brothers and sisters, let us ask ourselves: Who is God placing in my path today? What ditch have I been walking past? Where is mercy needed—and will I stop?
The Word of God is not far from you. It is in your heart. In your hands. In your feet. Go, then, and do likewise. Amen.
