The New Samaritan

Luke 10: 25-37 describes the parable of The Good Samaritan.

This past Sunday I had the privilege of teaching a lesson called "Love Thy Neighbor As Thyself" and the first parable that came to mind was of The Good Samaritan. However, the young and those not well versed in the parable don't always understand the significance of the different players in this brief drama. So I printed out some appropriate clip art, dashed off a retelling, and it was a real hit.

Here is the text:

[post picture of a tourist]

A certain man went on a vacation to see Yellowstone Park. On his way from Denver through Wyoming he stopped at a picnic site to enjoy a thoughtfully packed and most frugal lunch. He was about to get underway again when a carjacker held him at gun point, took his keys, wallet, and phone, and spitefully kicked him in the ankle.

The tourist sat on the ground, his ankle swelling by the moment, and wondered what to do. After a period of time, a caravan of large vehicles pulled to a stop at that very picnic site. Within seconds the whole area was swarmed with college youths in matching t-shirts, a passel of men in black suits and sunglasses, sweaty camera operators, perfectly coiffed reporters, and a good looking, middle-aged incumbent senator with huge, white teeth.

[post picture of politician at lecturn]

The politician stumped for education, environment, economic reform, and immigration policy. He was just getting to the welfare system when he saw the stunned tourist and, sensing a photo opportunity, went to sit beside him. He shook his hand and asked for whom he'd vote in the coming election. Blinded by camera lights and white teeth, the tourist stuttered that he was from Colorado. The Wyoming senator said "that's too bad, son," and in a whirl everyone packed up and left the tourist sitting in the dust.

Not too long after that, a certain caped crusader [post batman symbol] came to a screeching halt in a flying-rodent-mobile.

"Citizen," he said with deep voice and chiseled jaw. "I'm responding to a certain signal that was spotted just south of Rexburg, Idaho. [the home of BYU-Idaho] Apparently some reckless youths got hyped up on Mountain Dew and are on a rampage through the city, cutting neckties and stealing left shoes. Can you tell me how to get to the I-15?"

The tourist responded that he only had directions for getting to Yellowstone, but good luck anyway. Away the super hero sped and, as in the tradition of sad tales, it began to rain.

The next person to pull up was a trucker named Billy-John. [post pic of Billy-John. Let's just say that I Googled "scary trucker clipart" and picked the most grotesque face out of the bunch]

His cattle truck was as unwashed as he was, and both made the same sort of windy noises. Billy-John silently looked over the tourist, taking in his swollen ankle, sad expression, and inexplicably and offensively bright button up shirt. The trucked spat an enormous geyser of tobacco juice on the ground and said in a drawl:

"Y'all need some hep 'ere?"

The tourist tried to hold back tears of relief and pain as Billy-John helped him into the filthy but dry cab of the cattle truck. They traveled into Casper where trucker helped tourist into an urgent care center, telling the front desk to mail him the bill. He also booked a room at a modest motel and gave his new friend his spare shirt and pair of pants. The tourist gratefully embraced his most unlikely savior and was forever grateful.