Now this may come as something of a shock to some readers, but parts of the Bible are made up!  Jesus told tales - stories - to get people thinking.  A lot of the time he didn't explain them, centuries' worth of scholars and preachers have done that (or tried to anyway).  It never ceases to shock me that there are people who think the parable of the Good Samaritan is an historic event, but there you go.  All of this is by way of saying that since this is "just" a story no-one should get concerned that I dare to put words into the mouths of the characters trying to see things from their perspective.  Jesus is not recorded as having made any value judgements about the robbers, priest or levite, yet we tend to think of them as 'bad people' in one way or another.  Were they?  Was it really that simple?  Is it really that simple for us?

The ideas aren't exactly original, but it's my attempt and may spark off ideas for others wanting to play in this way...

The Man

It’s a real nuisance having to do so much travelling for work, but there you go, it pays the bills and enables me to allow the children a few treats. The wife isn’t too keen – says she never sees me except every second weekend, says that the roads are dangerous with all these reports of bandits and robberies, but what am I to do? The boss says ‘go’ so I go. I know the road well by now, travel it every few weeks; it’s a familiar routine. Maybe too familiar – maybe I’m such a familiar sight walking along that stretch of road, carrying the same large pack that they knew I’d be coming. Who knows? Anyway, that particular day as I rounded the bend by the big boulder they pounced. How many? I don’t know. At least two, maybe more. To be honest when the fists are flying and the knives are out you don’t look do you? It was over pretty quickly and they’d gone – taking my pack, taking my robe, taking everything and leaving me lying there, beaten and bleeding by the road side.

Representative Robber

I’m a robber. Lowest of the low? It’s alright for you, nice house, donkey, holidays at lake Galilee, good seat in the synagogue. Some of us aren’t so lucky. As for those Romans and all their taxes to say nothing of the Temple – what a rip off that is, talk about daylight robbery! Take my hard earned cash and pay through the nose to swap it for temple coins to buy a lamb to purify myself…. I’ve got a wife and six kids to think about, never mind all this religious malarkey. Losing my job was the last straw, we need to eat like anyone else, and when my child got sick how was I meant to pay for medicine and doctors? What else could I do? And it’s not without risk, oh no. If the Romans catch you it curtains –nailed on a cross and left to die… who’d care for my family then? So I can’t get caught – have to make sure they can’t tell anyone who it was, and if that means a good beating…

Priest

I was travelling towards Jerusalem that day on my way to the Temple to undertake my duties.

This is what we do, why we are born, why we live… I am a priest, my father was a priest, his father before him and so on all the way back to Aaaron. There isn’t a choice about it, it’s just the way it is. Kept apart from other children as a boy lest I defile myself, I learned that it is a lonely life – a powerful one, a privileged one, but one with few friends. Indeed, the only people I was really allowed to mingle with were other priestly families, and then only after careful checks on cleanliness had been made. Keep yourself clean! Keep yourself clean! This was the phrase that haunted my childhood. When my best friend died I wasn’t allowed to attend his funeral because that would cause ritual uncleanliness…

So when I was on my way to the Temple, needing to be there in good time to fulfil my obligations, to help others regain their own cleanliness you can see that I had no choice but to stay pure. Seeing a beaten, possibly dying man on the road terrified me. As he looked towards me I felt so guilty but those words rang in my mind ‘keep yourself clean, keep yourself clean.’ I had to get to the Temple clean-people were depending on me, so I carefully crossed away from him and hurried on to offer purification sacrifices on behalf of others…

Levite

I was going out from Jerusalem that day, travelling part of the Jericho road on my way to visit relatives. We are not like other Jews, my father used to tell me, God gave us no land of our own, instead we were a special tithe, paid by the other tribes out of the bounty of the land. Our role is to support the priests and we have many tasks to fulfil, which mean we have to stay clean. It can make life difficult, but you have to do it, there’s no choice – people are depending on you. Just suppose you had come to the Temple to offer the sacrifice for cleansing after childbirth or illness and the priest said ‘I’m sorry I can’t offer your sacrifice because the Levite, who must wash my hands, is unclean.’ You wouldn’t be too pleased would you? I may not go out to work like the rest of you, and I may seem to have quite a privileged life, but carries a heavy weight of responsibility – I have to be very careful how I live because it impacts on so many others.

I felt for him, that man lying by the road, bleeding and beaten, but there wasn’t anything I could do – time out from Temple service because I’d deliberately made myself unclean? Unthinkable. I had no choice, I carried on walking, carefully keeping a safe distance.

Samaritan

Jericho to Jerusalem – yeah, I go that way quite often. I know the best inns to stay at, where the hay is fresh for my donkey and the food good. I know the spots to keep alert – where the bandits hide to leap out on unsuspecting Jews with more money than sense. I’m not so likely to get robbed, I’m a Samaritan – might as well have a big tattoo on my head saying ‘dirty foreign scum’! Not that there are no dangers, and the verbal abuse can be hard to cope with at times…

Anyway, there I am minding my own business, when I come across a body lying in the road. Well I thought it was a body, but as I got nearer I could hear it groaning, so I knew it was alive. Another victim of the bandits, I thought, as I went over to take a look.

Well, I did what anyone would do, didn’t I? This was a fellow human being in need – half-dead maybe, but still half-alive! How he squealed when I washed his wounds! By the time I’d got them all bandaged up – tearing my spare tunic for the purpose – he was sitting up and taking notice. I heaved him onto the donkey (who wasn’t too impressed) and set off for one of my favourite inns. The inn-keeper was surprised, to say the least, but took him inside and made him comfortable. I paid the going rate for a couple of night’s stay and promised that on my way back that way I’d pay anything extra.

Innkeeper

Surprised? You could say that! I knew the Samaritan well, one of my best customers: always paid in full, donkey well cared for and well behaved, great traveller’s tales to tell and exotic things to sell. Never seem him with a half-dead Jew before though! I mean, it doesn’t happen does it? They’re sworn enemies, won’t speak a civil word to each other, never mind get involved with each other’s messy lives…

The Man

After a couple of days rest in the inn I felt well enough to return home. My wife was a bit shocked by the sight of me, and gave me ear-ache about the dangers of travelling that road alone, but she was relieved I was alive. My boss wasn’t too chuffed about the lost merchandise, said I’d have to pay him for the losses. I have often wondered about the people I saw on the road that day. What was it that drove the robber to a life of crime and violence? Why does religious observance make people behave in ways that seem inhuman? Why would a foreigner stop to help his sworn enemy – goodness knows I’d have run a mile if I’d been able to when I saw him come towards me! I used to think it was easy, that I knew who was ‘good’ and who was ‘bad’ but now I’m not so sure…