Youth Blog: “The Unlikely Neighbor”
My family and I prepared for my long, fifteen mile journey from Jerusalem to Jericho. Being a merchant, I frequently traveled to different towns and cities, selling my goods and trying to provide for my two young children and precious wife. Departing from my family for such long periods of time disheartened me, but I always leaned upon the hope of seeing them once more.
The time of my leaving was at hand and I sorrowfully told my wife and children goodbye. My wife was not at peace with me traveling to Jericho alone, knowing the dangers that were sure to greet me along the way. Wild beast attacks, thieves, and treacherous weather were all just a few of the many risks. Many who traveled the Jericho road fainted along the way. Some from lack of water, others from the difficult, weakening roads, but most were robbed and killed. I was aware of all of these dangers, but my trip to Jericho was necessary.
I mounted the wagon and signaled our time of leaving with a whistle. The mule tramped on with a rather slow pace as I turned around and waved goodbye to my beloved family. They bid me safe travels and continuously reassured me of their love. I will not hesitate to say that it was unbearably hard as I watched their familiar faces grow farther and farther away until they were no longer in my sight.
Just a few miles later, I was well on the Jericho road. The road was dusty, dry, rocky, and greatly narrow. I was well aware that I must watch carefully to ensure that the mule stayed much closer to the right side of the road, for to our left was a great slope. The wagon, which held most of my goods, made the journey dangerous. A slight mistake could be very costly. I had to be sure the wheels were not so close to the edge that they might slip. To my right sat an extensive incline that I counted myself incapable of ascending.
I soon had traveled more than eleven miles and surmised the sun to make its descent in six hours. It was completely silent, save the continual sound of the wheels rumbling against the rocks. I had passed very few travelers, all of which were walking in the opposite direction.
As I calmly rode down the Jericho road, two men suddenly jumped out from behind a large rock, startling the mule and myself. Forcefully, they drug me from my wagon and thrust me upon a rock. The impact almost knocked me unconscious, but I was aware of what their intentions were as they began searching through my belongings. Helplessly, I watched as they spoiled my goods and took my money. After they stripped me of my garments and collected all of my coins, they began to strike and beat upon me, hoping to have slain me. Then, believing I was dead, they mounted the wagon and drove the mule away with everything I had.
The suffering was nearly unbearable. I had never known pain like this before and I perceived that I was very near unto death as I lay there in the burning heat on the dry, stony ground. My longing for water could not be satisfied. There was none to help and none to see the condition I was in.
A brief period passed until faintly, in the distance, I heard someone walking towards me. The sound of hope grew louder and louder until, at last, they approached me. Barely opening my battered eyes, I saw a priest. He would without doubt give me help. He drew nigh and looked upon me, then continued on his journey. Perhaps he believed me to be dead, but I could not help but think he simply did not care.
There I lay in the middle of the Jericho road. My time was quickly vanishing and my desire for water was increasing tremendously. I prayed to Yahweh, asking Him for mercy. I asked for a little water and for help. It seemed as if no help would ever arrive, but I trusted Him, knowing it was all under His control.
A while later, I heard footsteps approaching once more. It seemed as if Yahweh had heard my prayers and I was exceedingly grateful! As he, a Levite, made his way in my direction, he ceased from walking and stood, watching me. Then, to my utter disappointment, he continued on his journey.
A sense of helplessness flooded me as I lay there in astonishment. Truly, I believed a Levite to have helped me, but he passed on. I was overwhelmed, yet I trusted Jehovah to be merciful unto me.
The sun beat vehemently on my bruised and bloodied body as I lay in the dirt. I began to take thought of my kindred and friends. How dear my family was to my heart! I longed to see them once more, if only to tell them how I cherished them. What love we possessed for each other, a love which could not be hindered. Within my heart I took a fast hold upon the hope that I would again see them, in this world or the next.
Soon the pain, heat, and lack of water overtook me and I succumbed to darkness as it overtook my motionless body.
I awoke to the familiar sound of many people speaking, wagons and horses being driven, and children laughing. With great confusion, I opened my eyes, and saw that I was in the city. I, myself, was riding on a donkey, which was being led by a man whose face I was not able to see. I was clothed and my wounds had been bandaged and treated.
The man brought me down from the donkey, following our arrival at an inn, and carried me inside. I was taken into a pleasant room and laid on a bed, which slightly eased my discomfort. Soon after I fell asleep and rested for some time.
Upon awaking the next morning, I immediately thought of the events that had occured the previous day and I desired to find the man who had rescued me. I arose from the bed, barely managing to remain upright. After opening the heavy door, I looked into the main room and saw three men sitting as they conversed. One looked as if he might be the innkeeper, another a merchant, and last, a Samaritan.
I was utterly surprised to see a Samaritan there. The Samaritans, exceedingly hated by most Jews, did not often stay in the inns at Jericho. I pondered why he was there and what business he had.
I listened carefully to their conversation, hoping to perhaps recognize who had saved me and thank him for his kindness.
“Take care of him,” said the Samaritan. “and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again, I will repay thee.”
I was wholly astonished. It was he who had stopped to help me! He had bound up my wounds and showed great compassion. I approached him and showed him my endless gratitude, thanking him again and again.
A few days later I was well enough to begin my journey home. As I started to take my leave, the Samaritan returned and paid the innkeeper all that he owed for my care.
He whom I thought to be my enemy was indeed my neighbor. He whom I had once believed to be my friend, denied to help me in the least. I realized that I must love my neighbor as myself. I cannot choose who my neighbor is, rather, my neighbor is everyone, no matter who they are, how they treat me, or from whence they have come. We should not be respecters of persons but should strive to help everyone who is in need and love them all with the same love, for they are all our neighbors.
Author: Amberlee Floyd with contributions by Ashlan and Vicki Floyd, Jennifer Flowers, and Cathy Horne.
