The good Samaritan

This is such a familiar and well loved parable that perhaps we forget what a very difficult situation it was in which the traveller found himself.  If the Samaritan had not come along when he did would he have even survived?  We probably all remember an occasion when a complete stranger rescued us when we were in trouble.

My story goes back many years but I still remember it very vividly and wonder what I would have done if my Good Samaritan had not come along.

When at university a friend and I decided to join something called the Finnish Family Scheme in the summer vacation.  We would have free board in return for helping a family with their English.  We were to travel together as a group.  I had never been out of England or on a plane so this was reassuring.

However, my family wrote and said they were actually going to the beautiful island of Bornholm in the Baltic Sea and would I like to join them there.  I agreed, although it meant travelling alone. 

I had to go to London, fly to Copenhagen early in the evening, and then catch the midnight ferry to Bornholm, where I would be met at 4 in the morning.

It is difficult to believe in our more sophisticated age, but I had virtually no money, no bank cards and no phone.  I also only had hand luggage.  I was wearing several layers of clothes and walking boots.

Things went wrong as soon as I reached London.  The plane was going to be late, and as time went by I realised I was going to miss my ferry.  What on earth was I going to do for 23 hours in Copenhagen with no money?  I had visions of sleeping on a bench and spending the day (and night!) wandering around.  I remember sitting in a corner and crying.

Eventually we did get on the plane and I was feeling (and I’m sure looking) pretty bedraggled.  I sat next to a very attractive young woman.  She soon asked me why I was so upset.  She responded at once; ‘Don’t worry.  You must come home with me.  My parents will be very happy to see you.’  Marianne was, it turned out, a disc jockey, so although free in the daytime, she would be working evenings.

When we got off the plane she went ahead to talk to her parents and then they all turned around and smiled at me.  We arrived at their house and the sofa was made up with bedding, not for me but for Marianne.  I was given her bed and her room.

The next day she took me on a tour of Copenhagen; Hans Christian Anderson, the Little Mermaid, the Tivoli gardens.  Then back for our evening meal.  She went off to work.  Marianne’s older sister and husband were coming for the evening.  Whatever they had planned they reorganised for me, although no one spoke English.  They got out their slides of a trip to England and were as delighted as I was when they reached the York slides.

And at midnight they took me to my ferry and waited until it left.

It wasn’t just that they took in a bedraggled stranger with such cheerfulness, although that felt amazing enough, but they had treated me as if I was an expected and honoured guest.

The Good Samaritan also went out of his way to ensure that the injured traveller was looked after well, and he promised to return to give more money if needed.

As Jesus said in another of his parables; ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it unto me.’ (Matthew 25.40)

Dianne Cox

 

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