Letter: A fortunate meeting with the Good Samaritan of Walcott Street

We all fall into pits of one kind or another now and then

To the Expositor:

We all fall into pits of one kind or another, now and then. And we all need ‘helping hands.’

The sad part is in the ‘selective’ helping.

I am reminded of that timeless tale of a traveller who was mugged and left for dead on the side of the road. One of the faithful walked by and seeing this man’s distress, overcame his conscientious objections with adherence to his religious principles. This man was not a member of his congregation. So he could not help him.

Another traveller—perhaps a neighbour—saw an opportunity to improve his circumstances. But this poor man had no purse and nothing in his pockets. So he got a kick instead, which rolled him into the ditch which was a safer place than on the road.

Then another poor man came along much maliged by the village people. He noticed the unnatural bundle of rags, lying destitute for God’s mercy. He bent down to look at the stranger. He picked him up, carried him to the nearest lodging and made provisio for his care. Asking nothing in return.

Are we not all strangers and aliens in this place, begging the world’s pardon. Life can be so precarious. The ditch is never too far away.

More recently, I, myself, happened to make a slip on that dangerous downward slope. It was fortunate for me then to meet up with the Good Samaritan of Walcott Street.

Lee Weimer

Manitowaing