Have you ever walked past someone who was suffering? You were in a big hurry, right?

Jesus told a story: “A Jewish man was attacked by robbers and left half dead by the side of the road. A priest and a temple assistant passed by, saw the man on the ground, avoided him, and continued on their way.

But a resident from the rival town of the Jews saw him lying there, felt compassion for him, treated his wounds, and bandaged them. He took the man to an inn, cared for him, and paid the innkeeper to look after him until he returned.”

Jesus asked: “Which of the three was the neighbor to the man attacked by bandits?”

The world succumbs to suffering, and those of us who still claim to carry words of hope can fall into automation, isolation, and temple-centrism, which prevents us from approaching the pain in the streets, the need in the squares, the shivering of those who have nowhere to spend the night.

They too are our neighbors, just as our family and friends are. They bear the marks of the Creator on their faces, and their eyes cry out for redemption.