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Life IS a dress rehearsal

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Jesus is a weakling

You don’t hear much about the Sermon on the Mount these days, and Jesus’ admonitions not to resist an evil person, pray for your enemies, etc. aren’t at the front of Conservative Christian thought, at least not in America. There is a fair amount of attention paid to gender issues and “traditional” morals.

But when it comes to the teaching of Jesus–the stuff he actually stressed while he was on Earth–most of it is treated as idealistic and frankly, not something anyone is actually supposed to go and do. Are you worried that it really is more likely that a camel could make it through the eye of a needle than a rich person could make it into heaven? I don’t think you are. And I don’t think that you and I feel we need to give to anyone who asks, or let our opponents hit us twice (the ‘turn the other cheek’ thing). Many times it seems smarter to hit the opponent first, and certainly we would be fools to deliberately let him take another shot.

The Sermon on the Mount and the verses that follow it are clear, but they are radical and against our basic natures. They aren’t practical. We treat them the same way we treat Jesus’ comment that you should cut off your hand if it causes you to sin. It’s hyperbole, a metaphor.

Okay, throwing away your eyeball/cutting off your hand is deliberately extreme, in order to make a point, but the message of Chapter 5 in the Gospel according to Matthew is not. It is a prescription for the way God’s people should live on Earth. And it is achievable–but only when we acknowledge that the Kingdom of God is “at hand”–it is here and readily available.

Jesus comes across as a weakling because he has all the power in the world–power that is available to those who enter this Kingdom. If he was some random itinerant preacher making these statements, he is a fool. If he is God, then he can back them up. That’s why he can instruct us to be overly generous, submissive and non-confrontational. That’s what life in the Kingdom is like when an all-powerful ruler is in charge and his people can feel free to be kind, generous and accepting.

A certain brand of Christianity ignores these words. Many people want a muscular brand of religion and a warrior messiah. Maybe they like the imagery of Revelation–but that book doesn’t pertain to how we are supposed to live our lives in the here-and-now. Jesus gave us the prescription, and we can trust him that if we actually behave as he instructed us to behave, not only do we have a place in heaven, but he will be with us as we live our lives as he clearly told us to.

Circumstances

I still don’t know why I did it.

A day at the beach with family. Frantic calls from people on the rocks. A young girl floundering in the waves. Without hesitation I run into the sea to rescue her.

That’s not like me. I’m not the hero type. I like to think I have high ideals and a good sense of morality; that I would be willing to sacrifice for a cause. But on a hero/coward spectrum, I would place myself in the middle. Besides, I’m 67 years old, and although I’m in good shape, I am not a strong swimmer.

This all happened last month, on a beach in Hong Kong that is remote, beautiful and expansive. If you go there during the week, you’re likely to find a handful of beachgoers, lots of seashells and pleasant, warm surf. Even on weekends, it’s not overcrowded. Tourists from Mainland China like to go there, primarily to snap photos of themselves on the large outcropping of rocks that juts into the ocean. My wife, our two children and their fiancees had hiked to the beach and were playing a game of Spike Ball badly on the sand, when we heard the commotion. People shouting. My wife thought maybe they were making a video. But we could discern a single voice repeatedly, frantically crying “Help!”

Out in the waves, not too far from shore, a girl was bobbing in the surf, waving her arms and disappearing under consecutive waves, only to bob back up. Without thinking, I started running. I hadn’t planned to go swimming that day, so I was wearing cargo shorts. Made slow progress as I waded through waves at the shoreline, then began to swim slowly toward the girl. My son had followed right behind me, and I was relieved to see that this young, strong rugby player was passing me and cutting through the waves while I laboriously made incremental progress. I felt the undertow that was keeping the girl from making it to shore, and began to wonder whether I was in trouble. My son reached the girl and brought her safely to dry land while I struggled to get myself to the beach. The girl was still clinging onto him, long after they had stepped away from the water’s edge. My son looked back to make sure he didn’t have to undertake another rescue, but as I slowly waded to shore, I gave him a thumbs-up.

I won’t write further about the grateful mother, the stunned girl or the indifference of the multitude that wandered the shore. My son was impressively humble about the rescue. The incident seemed to pass with a minimum of review or excitement. We got back home and had dinner. I didn’t share my thoughts and feelings, but I was confounded by what I’d done and perplexed about why I’d done it. Over the next couple of weeks, my wife enjoyed recounting the episode to friends, focusing as much on the apathy of other beachgoers as the heroics of her son (my role, although mentioned, understandably got less attention than the successful rescue). I have not brought the subject up with anyone, and my son and I have yet to do a debriefing on what prompted us to respond as we did.

When my wife tells the story, often the listeners point out the danger involved in attempting to rescue a drowning swimmer. They mention that the conditions that put the swimmer in danger would also confront the rescuer, along with the danger of the panicked swimmer dragging the rescuer down with them–that sort of thing. There seems to be a practical assessment of the situation that indicates that it is dangerous–or even foolhardy–to try to rescue a drowning swimmer. Leave it to the professionals, or accept that nothing could be done.

I get it. And there was a moment there where I thought I might be in trouble as the “elderly” would-be rescuer realised he also was in danger of drowning. Perhaps it was unwise to rush into the water without understanding the conditions involved and recognising my limited ability to rescue someone. I have never attempted anything like this before and although I would like to think I’m someone who would put his life on the line to aid a person in danger, until last month I had never done so.

Why did I? I began running without analysing the situation or thinking about what I was doing. As I reflect on this incident, I have no answers. I am astonished that this late in my life I can still surprise myself. I am left with the feeling that something profound happened. I don’t share this incident to bolster my image: after all, not only did I not rescue the girl, I didn’t come close and who knows if I would have been able to if I had reached her. But I have drawn a few conclusions. One is based on a tragic story that a friend mentioned after my wife finished sharing about the incident at the beach. The friend recounted a time many years ago when a man rescued a drowning mother and daughter after heavy waves had swept them out to sea on the south side of Hong Kong Island. He was able to get them safely to shore, but then drowned himself, unable to climb out of the pounding surf before he became exhausted from the effort. His wife and children looked on in horror as he died. I remember the incident–it happened shortly after we arrived in Hong Kong 35 years ago. But while our friends agreed that sometimes “there’s nothing you can do” and tacitly implied that the man should not have attempted to rescue the pair, I disagreed. I can’t say that I would run into the waves again if I saw a drowning girl–I didn’t know that I would do it when it happened last month. But sometimes these circumstances demand a response that doesn’t involve calculation. This is a deep mystery to me, because I didn’t think I was someone who would reflexively spring into action to (attempt) to save someone in danger.

I don’t know if I would do it again. But I’m glad I did it.

200 years of Despair

I went to an AA meeting last night, and the turnout was quite good: more than 40 people showed up on a Monday night. There were a number of old-timers, and I guessed that between all of us–counting the guy with 4 days and the folks who number their sobriety in decades–altogether we had far more than 200 years of sobriety.

Now, I know this is a “one day at a time” program, and what really counts is maintaining healthy sobriety. Alcoholics Anonymous has a lot of cliches, and one of them is “the person in the room with the most sobriety is the person who got up earliest this morning.” But I was struck by two things. First, despite the hardships and challenges and disappointments that inevitably occur in sobriety ( our lives didn’t suddenly become perfect once we stopped drinking), everyone in that room could say that their lives had gotten better. The troubles and anguish and self-loathing that we’d all experienced had been replaced by hope and self-respect and usually much better circumstances. 200 hundred years of changed lives is quite an impressive feat.

Then I thought about the alternative: if those 200 years had instead been filled with the continued obsession, insanity and despair of rampant alcoholism. If we had all continued walking down the dead end path of drinking and drugs and denying that we had a problem. It is not hard for me to imagine the cumulative chaos that would have ensued. Of course, we wouldn’t have made it 200 years.

Bring Back the Fairness Doctrine

It seems quaint now, but there used to be something called the Fairness Doctrine, which obligated broadcasters to present all sides of issues that were of importance to the public. “Doctrine” is a suspicious-sounding word, but it was a rule that ensured that broadcasters didn’t use the power of the airwaves to limit the viewpoints that listeners and viewers had access to.

The Fairness Doctrine was established in 1949 and was essentially abolished in 1987. Along the way it found critics and supporters on both sides of the political divide. I started my journalism career when the Fairness Doctrine was still in force. There were only 3 major television networks and the Internet was a vague dream. Back then, the concept was that broadcasters shouldn’t be allowed to promote just one side of a story: for example, if there was a local bond issue coming up for a vote, radio stations couldn’t run ads and produce news stories that only reflected the station owner’s preference. As a reporter, I was expected to produce fair and balanced stories. My personal standard for determining whether I had achieved my goal was simple: 1) after viewing the story, would audience members be able to discern my personal position on the issue, and 2) if viewers had access to all of the information I gathered in preparing the story, would they agree that I had presented the issue fairly–providing a balance between conflicting arguments.

In the chaotic, partisan media environment of 2025, this approach seems archaic and naive. But honest, folks, it wasn’t difficult to present a fair and unbiased news story. Some reporters and some TV stations crossed the line, but the mandate to be accurate and impartial was real back then. The “mainstream media” was trusted, whether it was Walter Cronkite or intrepid investigative reporters or just the local news team in your city. The change started in the 1980’s when entertainment creeped into TV news. The result was more sensationalism (“if it bleeds, it leads”) and fluff. A news director at my former station in Oklahoma was contemptuous of the “journalists” who wanted to produce stories on topics of importance to the public. He didn’t think that was necessary, and certainly didn’t think it would sell as well as stories on celebrities or sex crimes or talking fish.

The Fairness Doctrine was done away with during the Reagan administration, but there were efforts to bring it back, sponsored by both Republicans and Democrats. The regulation only applied to broadcasters, and by the 90’s an entirely new structure would have been necessary in order to regulate cable channels. By the 21st century, the online flood of content and opinion had created the environment we have today: virtually no news provider is considered impartial. People choose their information based on their preferences. It would be impossible to require Joe Rogan or John Oliver or Tucker Carlson to present opposing views on their shows. For one thing, it would be a violation of their First Amendment Rights. But we could use a new version of the Fairness Doctrine to ensure that the major corporations that control our media don’t prevent Americans from getting a full picture of what is going on in their world. Remember: the Fairness Doctrine required broadcasters to devote some of their airtime to discussing controversial matters of public interest, and to air contrasting views regarding those issues. TV and radio stations could choose how to meet those requirements: maybe a public affairs show or an editorial. This approach not only informed citizens, but avoided the polarisation that plagues America today.

What would a new Fairness Doctrine look like the in the Internet Age? These days, anyone can have their own podcast or website or social media platform. It would be unworkable–and unconstitutional–to require each influencer or podcaster to present opposing views or provide time to anyone who challenged their claims. The Fairness Doctrine of 1949 was valid because in 1949 there were a finite number of channels and frequencies for TV and radio stations. That’s not the case today. So the focus must turn to ensuring that accurate information is shared; that outright lies, false reports and intentionally misleading content is identified and prohibited. The Constitution has never protected lies. It protects free speech and opinions, but anyone who knowingly presents falsehoods should be held accountable. It is society’s only form of protection when AI can now be employed to mislead Americans in myriad ways.

It wasn’t that difficult back in the 80’s to tell the truth on a TV newscast. And back then, different views were given space on the same platform. In the 2020’s, when the number of platforms is diverse and many are controlled by powerful people with specific agendas, the requirement for truth, accuracy and fairness has never been more crucial.

It’s only fair.

NASCAR and the Ten Commandments

My mother attended a small church in South Carolina, where the Sunday service began promptly at 11 a.m. and ended precisely an hour later. If the pastor was overwhelmed by the Spirit and his sermon began to run long, parishioners would fidget in their seats and glance at their watches. They joked that they loved the Lord, but they loved NASCAR, too, and they needed to get home, have lunch and get settled in front of the tube to watch the races.

NASCAR races are typically run on Sundays, and are most often held in states that contain a large proportion of Bible-believing folks. Texas, for example, hosts a stop on the NASCAR circuit and recently passed a law requiring that every public school classroom must display the Ten Commandments. The law is set to take effect in the coming school year.

The Ten Commandments are viewed as the bedrock of Judeo-Christian values. It’s easy even for non-Christians to get behind most of the commands: don’t murder, don’t steal. Even “honour your father and mother” seems like a healthy concept. No doubt legislators in Texas, Louisiana and other states that are preparing similar laws are committed to ensuring that the precepts contained in the Commandments are impressed on the youth of the nation. As Moses, who brought the Commandments down from Mt. Sinai, told the Israelites, “These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children.”

Christians believe that their salvation comes from grace, not from the Law. The Jews had 613 clear commandments in the Old Testament that prescribed correct behavior and clearly defined unacceptable acts. Jesus didn’t abolish all those laws or say that they no longer mattered. But modern Christians don’t feel obligated to follow ancient laws regarding unclean food, how to deal with mildew or the correct way to sacrifice a goat. Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross and New Testament teaching show that belief in Christ’s atoning death is essential–not a series of laws.

So what do we do with those Ten Commandments? They are a prescription for ideal moral behavior, except for maybe a couple of items that seem a bit out of place in the 21st century. One is the prohibition on making graven images. This was important to the Israelites 3,000 years ago, when they were surrounded by other religions that fashioned their gods out of wood and stone. The other confounding commandment pertains to the Sabbath. That’s the 7th day of the week, a day of rest. The Lord was very clear on its importance. Indeed, in Exodus 35:2 Moses says “Whoever does any work on it is to be put to death.” Serious stuff.

So what are the children in Texas or Louisiana or Arkansas to make of this? Stores everywhere are open on Sundays, millions of Americans work on the seventh day of the week. Moses told his people that they couldn’t even light a fire in their homes on the Sabbath. And yet, in May the Texas House of Representatives passed the Ten Commandments bill on the Jewish Sabbath. Maybe that didn’t count, since most of them were Christians and honor the Lord on Sundays. Sunday is also the day that the Texas Motor Speedway held the NASCAR cup series. But nowhere in America is it described as a mandatory day of rest. It might be the day when most Christians go to church, but a lot of them go to work on that day.

Do we get to choose which of the Commandments we follow? Just the most obvious ones, like not murdering someone? How exactly do we honor our parents? And what about “misusing the name of the Lord?”–or what the King James Version of the Bible referred to as ‘taking the Lord’s name in vain’. In recent decades that commandment has primarily been interpreted merely as a ban on swearing, as opposed to a to a mandate to respect and revere the Lord. If the Ten Commandments are so important that they should be placed in a fourth grade classroom, shouldn’t the people who advocate this also abide by them? At the very least, they might want to go a little beyond the pious action of posting a Biblical treatise on the wall and devote time to exploring what is really meant when the Lord says “you should have no other gods before me.”

Jesus reserved his most pointed criticism for the Pharisees, who were the religious leaders of his day, the people who told others how to act and judged their behavior. The Pharisees believed that laws equalled piety. They were all about the rules. They were wrong.

Tech Tyranny

“The central problem of the modern world is the complete emancipation and autonomy of the technological mind at a time when unlimited possibilities lie open to it and all the resources seem to be at hand.”

That observation was made 60 years ago by Thomas Merton, the Trappist monk and author. He was appalled by the mindless embrace of technology in the name of “progress”. “The consequence of this,” he goes on to say, “is that technology and science are now responsible to no power and submit to no control other than their own.”

While modern societies can congratulate themselves on the fact that the nuclear armageddon that activists like Merton feared in the 60’s has so far been avoided, they have surrendered to other technological developments with a mixture of fascination and indifference. Six decades on, technology is even less responsible to control–indeed, the unchecked ascent of AI, social media and cryptocurrency have been accepted uncritically by most authorities and the public in general. To quote Merton again: “Needless to say, the demands of ethics no longer have any meaning if they come into conflict with these autonomous powers. Technology has its own ethic of expediency and efficiency.”

Thus we have billionaires and Silicon Valley wizards unveiling their plans to accomplish everything from colonizing Mars to inserting AI in everything from your car to your brain: all because it’s possible and they think it’s a good idea (and probably very profitable). The good monk of Kentucky would be appalled. Back in what we would consider very low-tech times, Merton warned “The effect of a totally emancipated technology is the regression of man to a climate of moral infancy, in total dependence not on ‘Mother Nature’ but on the pseudonature of technology, which has replaced nature by a closed system of mechanisms with no purpose but that of keeping themselves going.” The science journalist Adam Becker calls this “the ideology of technological salvation,” criticizing the tech industry’s twin goals of perpetual growth and “transcendence — the promise of an imagined end that justifies blowing through any actual limits, including conventional morality.”

Merton was right 60 years ago: “if technology remained in the service of what is higher than itself–reason, man, God–it might indeed fulfil some of the functions that are now mythically attributed to it. But becoming autonomous, existing only for itself, it imposes upon man its own irrational demands, and threatens to destroy him. Let us hope it is not too late for man to regain control.”

That was in 1965. In 2025 Becker echoes Merton’s accusation. “The credence that tech billionaires give to these specific science-fictional futures validates their pursuit of more — to portray the growth of their businesses as a moral imperative, to reduce the complex problems of the world to simple questions of technology, to justify nearly any action they might want to take — all in the name of saving humanity from a threat that doesn’t exist, aiming at a utopia that will never come.”

A Successful Life

When I was 10 years old I wanted to be the governor of Maryland. This might seem like an unusual goal for a boy from Los Angeles, but my mother had recently taken my sister and me to visit relatives on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, and I was enchanted by the area. When I shared my plan with my mother, she agreed it was a worthy ambition.

I asked her if she had ever wanted to do big things or be somebody important. She smiled and said no, she was happy with who she was. I was disappointed, and a bit incredulous. I couldn’t understand how someone would choose a mundane life completely lacking in ambition. As the years passed, my dream of being Maryland’s governor was replaced by other objectives, but the ambition did not abate. I wanted to succeed, accomplish things and reach the pinnacle of my profession. However, as I grew older, I began to see the value of my mother’s perspective. The things she valued–love, family, compassion and service–seemed more valid and enduring than personal achievements. Over time, my disdain for a life lacking in personal ambition transformed into appreciation for a way of life marked by humility and sacrifice.

It’s easy to forget what’s most important when your ego gets in the way. Jesus’s disciples were guilty of it–arguing which of them would be greatest. Jesus quickly set the record straight. “Whoever desires to become great among you, let him be your servant.” My mother never desired to be great, but she expressed the qualities that are most essential for an effective and praiseworthy life. She was a humble servant, a caring friend and a supportive parent. I wish that 10-year-old boy had learned that lesson earlier, but he recognises it now.

The eagle hunters of Western Mongolia

Last year my wife and I traveled to a remote area of Mongolia to witness one of the most unique spectacles on the planet.

Here is a link to the story I wrote for the online travel publication Thrillist that shares a bit of the experience.

https://www.thrillist.com/travel/nation/eagle-hunter-festivals-western-mongolia

A Life’s Worth

A LIFE’S WORTH

My mother is 93 years old. She is cheerful, content and comfortable. Dementia has robbed her of the ability to remember what she had for lunch, the names of my children or what I do for a living. We have conversations where she might ask the same question several times. She won’t remember the answer and I’ll hear the question again during our next call. Eventually, soon, she won’t remember me.

Her caregivers adore my mother. They take the time to chat with her because she is gentle, amiable and has a pretty good sense of humor. Taking care of her is not challenging for them, although Mother is weak and requires assistance to meet her basic needs.

For the past several years my job has involved providing care for children with severe disabilities. Few of them will ever be able to live independently; many have both intellectual and physical disabilities. One of the children, Feiguo, spends his day in bed, his body severely constrained by cerebral palsy. Feiguo has the brightest, most contagious smile I have ever seen. His caregivers adore him. They linger by his bedside, stroking his head and chatting, even though Feiguo is not capable of verbalizing words anymore. Taking care of him is not challenging for them, although he can barely move and requires assistance to meet his basic needs.

In a world where people are judged by their abilities and accomplishments, what is the value of those who possess few abilities and don’t accomplish anything? Those who are fading from life and those who never really had a chance? It is costly to provide services to these people: an investment with no quantifiable return. In China, where Feiguo lives, citizens are exhorted to contribute to the greater good and the race for prosperity motivates millions. In the United States, where my mother lives, youth is celebrated, along with success. Both societies recognize and accept the fact that people like Feiguo and my mother must be cared for. Often this is seen as more of an obligation than an opportunity.

The word ‘care’ has two entwined meanings. One refers to an action and implies that the recipient requires someone to look after them and meet their needs. The other is an emotion. It is a response, not a judgement. When we measure people by their productivity or their ability to function in society, people with severe disabilities can be viewed the way banks view non-performing loans: not as an asset, but a net loss.   

Are the elderly people sequestered in an “assisted living home” contributing anything? Do severely disabled children have value? If the metric you use to answer these questions is based on their ability to love and be loved, then I claim they have at least as much value as selfish strivers in either society who don’t value the act of caring. The worth of a young man confined to a bed, yet smiling serenely at those who see him each day, is not based on what he can do. His value was established when he was born. My mother’s worth is not based on what she was able to accomplish in the first 90 years of her life. Like all of us, her worth comes from the fact that, as a human being, she is capable of loving and being loved, and her dignity as a person is not reduced because she can’t remember where I live.

She is contributing. Feiguo’s life is valuable. A life’s worth is already innate in each person. Their ability to love—to care—is the ultimate expression of that pre-installed value. But the value is not diminished by physical or mental obstacles. Just ask the people who care.  

Brothers in Traffic

You are driving down a winding mountain road, enjoying the scenery. Suddenly you notice in your rearview mirror a car coming up rapidly behind you. The driver is weaving wildly, honking his horn and attempting to pass you on dangerous curves. Dismayed and angry, you try to avoid being run off the road. Finally, the motorist darts past you on a blind curve and zooms on ahead.

“Jerk,” you mutter–or worse–and keep on driving at your previous sane pace.

A couple of miles further on, you round a turn to see the crazy driver has run off the road and crashed into a tree. Because you are a good person, you grudgingly stop to see if he requires assistance. As you approach, the driver appears to be okay: you can see him sitting up straight in his seat, then opening the door to get out. At this point you feel free to give him a piece of your mind.

As you begin your “serves you right” speech, the man turns to look at you. It is your brother.

Suddenly the situation is completely different. This is no longer an unknown human, one defined only by his unsafe driving habits whom you can easily label a jerk (or worse). Now, you might not like your brother, and maybe you would still launch into the “serves you right” speech. But you suddenly must relate to him in a different way.

Why is that humans enjoy judging others based on the narrowest of experiences? And why do we act differently to people just because we know them–even vaguely? Let’s say you’re in a traffic jam, and some guy wants to cut in front of you. You’re about to offer a rude gesture to him (or at least prevent him from edging ahead of you), but then you notice it’s your next door neighbour. What do you do?

You let him in, don’t you? Might even smile. And that hand that was about to offer the hostile gesture now waves him on ahead. And that’s even if you don’t have a particularly close relationship with your neighbour. You can substitute many other types: your child’s science teacher, the clerk you always see at 7-Eleven. Pretty much anyone with whom you have developed a nodding acquaintance.

But for a complete stranger? That person can be classified, instantly stereotyped and reviled or reduced to a simple characterization. Conflicts can grow when we are put in situations with strangers whom we actually know nothing about: their background, family lives or even their intentions. Yes, there are real dangers out there, and reasonable precautions that must be taken in certain situations. But I’m talking about the reflexive tendency to draw negative conclusions about an individual based on the most fleeting of experience–and our preference to instantly pass negative judgements on others. Conversely, we are often willing to accommodate other people with whom we have only the slightest acquaintance.

We don’t know the situation of the man in the car. Perhaps he was in a frantic hurry to reach a hospital after learning that his wife was suddenly critically ill. Perhaps he could use your help. Perhaps he really is a jerk. He is also your brother. Or to use the relevant language in the Bible, he is your “neighbour.” One time an “expert in the Law” quizzed Jesus about the definition of “neighbour.” Jesus agreed with this man’s statement that the two greatest commandments are to:

“‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind; and, ‘Love your neighbour as yourself.”

So far, so good, but in the story, the legal expert couldn’t stop there. He then asked “And who is my neighbour?”

30 In reply Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. 31 A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. 32 So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. 33 But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. 34 He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. 35 The next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’ 

 Jesus asked the expert “Which of these three do you think was a neighbour to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”

The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”

Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.”

You are prudent if you carefully assess the scene after you find the reckless driver crashed into a tree. But can you love him? Or do we prefer to judge strangers, foreigners and outsiders?

Luke 10: 29-35

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