A man walked into a Baptist church on a sunny Sunday morning.  It was an hour before service time but, amazingly, the doors were open and the musicians were rehearsing.  He was a little dishevelled, but clean.  He annonced he needed money to get to a Derbyshire town, and was asked to wait until a duty deacon arrived.

In due course the duty deacon arrived and said, ah I cannot answer that, you'll have to wait for the preacher to arrive.

Soon afterwards the visiting preacher arrived and was asked to speak to the man.  She offered several solutions to the man - a lift to bus or rail station and purchase of a ticket or someone who would be able to drive him to his chosen destination.  Each of these he declined, and left in a huff.  The member he'd first encountered commented that they'd have given him the money...

A few months later another man walked into another Baptist church on a sunny Sunday morning.  He was dirty, dishevelled and due to cerebral palsy a little difficult to understand.  Once more he was passed from member to deacon to minister (who had merely been attending the service as a visitor) and announced his desire for money to get a train to a Warwickshire cathedral city.  On this occasion, the minister found a person - another visitor to the service (but known to her) who was willing to accompany her to take the man to a rail station or the city itself.  The man was delivered to his chosen destination, bought food and left in a safe place...

So how do we now read the parable of the Good Samaritan?

These are true stories, and you don't need 'A 'levels to work out I was the minister.  They, along with other incidents when I am 'off duty' give me pause for thought, firstly about my own actions in the light of Matt 25 sheep and goats, secondly our actions as churches and Christians in the light of the Good Samaritan story, and lastly of our society where these incidents occur.

I have quite clear views on what help I will give to strangers, shaped partly by conversations with Big issue venders and genuine homeless people.  Each have told me that someone who is genuine will be grateful to receive appropriate material help food, gloves, to be put on a bus, etc.  So this I am willing to do, gladly and openly; but I do not give money.  I realise that this can seem like a lack of trust but it's my policy and it works for me.  If charity demeans the recipient, well, in my view, so does begging, and the latter more than the former.

I am left puzzled by our attitudes as churches and the 'upward' buck passing.  If churches have policies on such matters than anyone ought to be confident to act.  I wonder how much is fear of the unknown, how much is a sense of 'SEP' (someone else's problem) and how much that actually in C21 the parable of the Good Samaritan would need to be the story of the Good Priest?  How can I - or we - address these fears, or whatever they are, in a way that brings Kingdom to such events?

Lastly I am troubled by the indifference of care provision.  We ascertained that yesterday's man lived in a refuge or hostel in Leicester.  Having concerns over his safety as he was physcially and emotionally vulnerable (I suspect mental health issues and clear evidence of substance abuse) we contacted them.  They were unsurprised that he was 'on his travels' and affirmed that he was free to do as he wished.  Whilst in one sense this got us 'off the hook' in agreeing to take him, I was saddened that the level of support he had was so abysmal.  My fear is that one day this young man will be found at the side of a road, failed by a society that has the audacity to call itself Christian and caring.

I don't have any answers, just more questions to add to my list.  The Iona song Will You Come and Follow Me has the powerful line "will you kiss the leper clean", I admit that I struggle with the more radical aspects of Jesus' call, and hugging (never mind kissing) 'lepers' is something I find difficult to do, yet I do believe it is part of our call - whether we are guitarists, deacons, ministers or whatever. 

Hear then the enigma of radical disipleship...