Christianity vs. Humanitarianism: Philosopher Manet - "As for the Samaritan himself, Pope Francis [& Leo are] ...amazingly indifferent to what the Gospel actually says about him...Samaritan is none other than Jesus Christ. There is no Christianity outside of Jesus Christ. Christians, and no doubt many non-Christians, expect the Church to teach about Jesus Christ""
- The Definition of the Samaritan: Rather than interpreting the Samaritan as a model of generic human benevolence, Manent asserts that the Samaritan represents the divine, embodying a level of mercy that exceeds mere human capability. [1, 2]
- Christianity vs. Humanitarianism: Manent critiques the modern secular view of the Good Samaritan, warning against reducing this deeply religious narrative into a tool for modern "humanitarianism," which he argues focuses only on physical suffering without recognizing the spiritual or relational dignity of the individual. [1, 2]
- The Danger of Unmoored Compassion: Manent cautions that raw human sympathy, when not anchored in virtue, can easily become misguided and do more harm than good. [1]
... As for the Samaritan himself, Pope Francis is amazingly indifferent to what the Gospel actually says about him, and he prefers to sketch a novel:
Only one person stopped, approached the man and cared for him personally, even spending his own money to provide for his needs. He also gave him something that in our frenetic world we cling to tightly: he gave him his time. Certainly, he had his own plans for that day, his own needs, commitments and desires. Yet he was able to put all that aside when confronted with someone in need. Without even knowing the injured man, he saw him as deserving of his time and attention.
Now, here is what we actually read in the Gospel, which I again cite:
“But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.’”
Aren’t there things to be said about the narrative as written? The Samaritan is certainly generous. Not only does he give an adequate sum to the innkeeper, but he promises that he will reimburse him for what he must additionally spend on the wounded man. (Contrary to what Pope Francis suggests, the Samaritan does not give much of his time, nor does he change much in his plans. After all, he leaves the wounded man and returns to his affairs. On the other hand, he leaves much for the innkeeper to do.) Above all, he manifests a complete confidence in the innkeeper who, for his part, seems to have an equal confidence in him. The innkeeper doesn’t seem worried about the date of the “return” of the Samaritan who, for his part, doesn’t specify when it will be. We should note that he doesn’t even say that he will return “soon.”
Let’s summarize: The Samaritan approaches, he sees, he takes pity, he binds the wounds, he treats them with salutary unguents, he picks up the wounded man and places him on his own horse, he takes him to a place of repose and healing, where he entrusts him to a man who will take care of him until the return—at an indeterminate time—of the Samaritan, a return that this man will await with confidence. While Pope Francis recounts a story that he wishes to be motivating for the men of today, Luke’s Gospel introduces the Kingdom. Luke’s Samaritan does not resemble today’s “Good Samaritan.” There is an amplitude to his deeds, a liberty in his conduct, a competence in his care for all wounds, an authority to his word, and an ability to make promises worthy of belief, that are not those of a mere human being. The Church Fathers were right: The Samaritan is none other than Jesus himself.[1] Is that really surprising? Don’t we have here to do with the Word of God? God speaks of God. The parable doesn’t invite us to “identify[. . .] with others without worrying where they were born or came from,” but to enter into a “Christian discipleship” that has no other end than Christ.
Pope Francis quite rightly observes that Jesus, after having presented the parable, and addressing the lawyer who had asked him “and who is my neighbor?,” “completely transforms the question: He asks us not to decide who is close enough to be our neighbour, but rather that we ourselves become neighbours to all.” The parable thus teaches us, first, that we have neither the charity, nor the strength, nor the reparative virtue, nor the patience, nor the hope, nor the faith, to be like the Samaritan. At the same time, it instructs us that we must make ourselves neighbors of one another and that we cannot do so if we only count on our own forces, that is, if we content ourselves with being “humanists” or “humanitarians.”
Merely human compassion—fellow-feeling—is a passion or a sentiment that, as such, is not capable of being morally qualified. Left to itself, compassion for the victim easily changes into compassion for the torturer. From a sentiment, however, compassion can become a virtue, if it is guided by the cardinal virtues of courage, justice, and prudence. Without this guidance, however, it does more harm than good. Who could tally those murdered in the twentieth century in the name of compassion for “the poor” or for “workers”?
The Samaritan is none other than Jesus Christ. There is no Christianity outside of Jesus Christ. Christians, and no doubt many non-Christians, expect the Church to teach about Jesus Christ.
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