himself to be a
neighbor to the man that had fallen among thieves? In which of the
social classes did there appear to be the truest understanding of the
conduct which moral duty requires of us toward our fellow-men--in
the upper classes or in the lowest? And the answer evidently is--in
the lowest. The point of the parable is that the Samaritan himself,
whom priest and Levite and doctor of the law refused to regard
as a neighbor, was worthy to be treated as a neighbor, because
he understood, as they did not, how to treat others as neighbors.
The lesson of the parable is a twofold one: not only that the
wounded man lying untended on the road was a neighbor because
of his need, but more especially that the Samaritan was a neighbor
because he responded to the need, and set an example of truly
human behavior to those who had doubted whether, because of
his extreme social degradation, he was himself to be regarded as human.

The moral qualities in men, then, constitute their most universal
title to respect, and these qualities we find in all social grades and
among all races and nationalities. We find them among the
Chinese, as their devoted family life, the honesty of their
merchants, and the ethics of Confucius indicate. We find them
among the negroes, not only in the case of exceptional persons
like Booker Washington or Dubois or Atkinson, but also in the
undistinguished life of many an obscure man and woman, whom to
know more intimately is to learn to respect as a neighbor and a
moral equal. What we need to build up our faith in human
goodness is the clairvoyance that discerns the hidden treasures of
character in others. And one other quality is indispensable for the
moral appreciation of our neighbors, namely, the quality of
humility. Strange as it may seem, the less we plume ourselves on
our own goodness, the more we shall be ready to believe in the
goodness of other people; the more we realize the infinite nature
of the moral ideal and our own distance from it, the more we shall
esteem as of relatively small importance the distance that separates
us from others, the slight extent to which we may morally surpass
them. The more we are aware of our own frequent and serious
shortcomings, the more, when we perceive the moral delinquencies
of others, shall we recognize in their nature the same recuperative
agency which we believe to be in ourselves, namely, the power of
divine regeneration that can make all things new. If