In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

The Gospel begins with a searching question—one that goes beyond legal curiosity. It’s a question that lies deep in every human heart:

“Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” (Luke 10:25)

Jesus turns the question back to the lawyer and to us:

“What is written in the law?”

The answer is clear: Love God with your whole being, and love your neighbour as yourself.

But then comes the follow-up: “And who is my neighbour?” A question not of principle, but of limits. The lawyer is asking: Whom must I love—and who can I safely ignore?

And so Jesus tells a story. Not a treatise. Not a theory. But a story.

A man lies half-dead on the road. Two religious figures walk by, seeing—but not stopping. Then, unexpectedly, a Samaritan appears. An outsider. Someone least likely to be the hero. And yet:

“He was moved with pity… He went to him… bandaged his wounds… and took care of him.” (Luke 10:33–34)

This is more than an example of kindness. It’s a portrait of mercy that crosses boundaries—religious, cultural, economic. It is mercy in action.

“Which of these three,” Jesus asks, “was a neighbour to the man?”
The answer: “The one who showed him mercy.”
And Jesus says: “Go and do likewise.”

In Deuteronomy, we’re told that God’s commandment is not distant or hidden:

“The word is very near to you; it is in your mouth and in your heart for you to observe.” (Deut. 30:14)

God does not ask what we cannot give. He asks for what He has already planted within us: the capacity to love, to act justly, to walk with compassion. And He places neighbours in our path—not only in theory but in flesh and blood.

This week, as we heard from Family Support Work (FSW), we were reminded that the Jericho road is not far away. It runs through the homes of single parents struggling with poverty, through families coping with disability or addiction, through households weighed down by unseen burdens.

FSW doesn’t just speak of compassion—they embody it. They step off the road, meet people in their woundedness, and walk with them towards healing. Like the Samaritan, they bind wounds. Sometimes practical wounds: housing, food, school uniforms. Sometimes emotional wounds: fear, loneliness, grief.

What they do is a living answer to the question: “Who is my neighbour?”

But if we are honest, the path of mercy is not easy. It is costly. Sometimes overwhelming.

That’s why Paul’s words in Colossians matter so deeply. He prays that we may:

“be made strong with all the strength that comes from God’s glorious power, and… endure everything with patience.” (Col. 1:11)

We cannot sustain the work of love by willpower alone. It is God's strength in us that makes us fruitful.

And Paul reminds us that God has already acted:

“He has rescued us from the power of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of his beloved Son.” (v. 13)

We do not love others to earn grace—we love because grace has already found us.

 So, friends:
– The Word is near.
– The Spirit is within.
– The wounded lie in our path.
– And the call is clear: “Go and do likewise.”

This is not abstract charity. It’s concrete, patient, day-by-day mercy—of the kind lived out by Family Support Work and others who carry God’s compassion into real lives.

Let us support them not only with gifts, but with prayer and solidarity. And let us allow their witness to challenge us: Where are the wounded near us? Who might God be asking us to notice?

In a world often quick to walk by on the other side, may we, too, be moved with compassion. And in doing so, may we bear witness to the One who came not to be served, but to serve—and who found us on the roadside, and healed us with love.

In the words of Christ: “Go and do likewise.”