The Good Samaritan
The Samaritan hummed a lilting, ancient tune, as he trudged along the well-worn, dusty road beside his donkey. Lifting a hand, he covered his eyes, shielding them as he squinted into the distance. The searing heat of the midday sun that was baking the earth bone dry was almost unbearable. Although he could make out the hazy outline of a city on the horizon, there was still a ways to go before he reached Jericho. He fanned himself, sweat trickling from beneath his headdress and down his face as he took a swig of water from the skin pouch hanging from his side. Patting his faithful old donkey reassuringly, they continued to trudge on together. He had climbed off his beast in order to relieve her burden. Now he paused to give her a swig of water also. The Samaritans, his people, were descended from diverse conquered peoples from throughout the Eastern regions brought in by the Assyrian empire. They had mixed with the survivors of the tribes of Israel and those from Judah and Benjamin that...