So… this dude runs into some really bad dudes who kick the crap out of him, take all of his money and jewelry, and leave him bloody and barely alive in the ditch by the side of the road. This guy looks like he got jumped by a whole group of MMA fighters trying to set the record for most kicks and punches landed in three minutes.
Church deacon comes by, looks over at him, and thinks, "Holy crap! Looks like somebody kicked the patoosky out of that guy!" Just to be sure said guy doesn't reach out and grab him by the ankle, and moan for help, he moves over to the opposite side of the road and goes on his way.
Internationally renown televangelist walks up on the scene. Jumps halfway out of his Gucci loafers and lands on the other side of the road. "Oh, oh, oh, praise God that's not me or someone I know!!! All that blood would be so hard to get out without any stains!" Continues on his way, possibly keeping the pitiful man in his thoughts and prayers for several paces.
Then, and this is where my memory gets a little fuzzy… I can't remember if it was some Black dude from St. Louis, or an illegal immigrant, or a Democrat. Come to think of it, it might have been some skinny Muslim guy with a really thick, black beard. Anyway, whoever it was, as soon as they could tell it was a human lying there all beat and bloody, they came running up. Wiped as much blood as they could off the guy's face, applied first aid, and hauled his wretched remnants to the nearest hotel.
He rented a room—actually paid for a whole month in advance, and some extra on top, you know, for incidentals like antibiotics, bandages, and such—and took the guy inside and got him cleaned up and settled into the bed.
"Listen," he tells the manager, "You get this dude anything he needs until he's able to take care of himself again. I'll be back in a couple of weeks and if I didn't already give you enough money, I'll take care of it when I come back."
Interesting thing about this story—none of those three guys were looking for someone to help. Well, I guess that's pretty obvious that not only were the first two not looking for someone to help, they were actively going slightly out of their way not to help, even though the poor hapless victim was of the same ethnicity, religion, and national origin! Our third dude wasn't looking for someone to help, but help is exactly what he did. Why? Because his heart was bigger than his social experience and his compassion was stronger than his inherited prejudices.
Ironically, if the poor, pounded blob of leftover martial arts test dummy had been fully conscious and completely mobile at the time of their initial encounter, he would have most likely sneered in contempt and refused to even speak to the guy who ended up saving his life!
Okay, so admittedly, this is a stolen story with slight modifications and modernization. But it seems that even after two thousand years, it seems that some of us might need to be reminded, "Who is my neighbor?"
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