On this twelfth Sunday after Pentecost, Holy Mother Church places before us two readings that, at first glance, seem distinct in theme: St. Paul’s meditation on the glory of the New Covenant (2 Cor. 3:4–9) and Our Lord’s parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:23–37). Yet together they reveal the mystery of divine grace: the Law that once condemned now finds its fulfillment in Christ, who is not merely the Teacher of the Law but its very embodiment, healing our wounds and raising us to the life of the Spirit.
The Ministry of the Spirit (2 Cor. 3:4–9)
St. Paul contrasts the “ministration of death, engraven in letters upon stones,” with the “ministration of the Spirit,” which abounds in glory. The Apostle does not despise the Mosaic Law—indeed, he calls it glorious—but he makes plain that its purpose was preparatory, to lead souls to Christ.
St. Augustine comments: “The law was given that grace might be sought; grace was given that the law might be fulfilled.” (De Spiritu et Littera, 19). The Old Covenant could accuse but not heal; it could illumine sin but not forgive it. Hence its glory was transitory, like the brightness on Moses’ face, which faded away.
The new dispensation, however, is a “ministration of righteousness.” It is Christ Himself, dwelling in us by the Spirit, who accomplishes what the Law could only foreshadow. St. John Chrysostom remarks that the Spirit “writes not upon stone, but upon hearts; not with ink, but with grace” (Hom. on 2 Cor. 7). The Gospel is therefore not an external code but an interior transformation.
The Parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:23–37)
In the Gospel, a lawyer, desiring to justify himself, asks: “And who is my neighbor?” The Lord responds not with a definition, but with a story—a story that unveils both the depth of human misery and the superabundance of divine mercy.
The Fathers saw in this parable not only moral instruction but a profound allegory of salvation history. The man going down from Jerusalem to Jericho signifies humanity falling from the heights of grace into the valley of sin. St. Ambrose explains: “Jerusalem is paradise, Jericho is the world. The thieves are the powers of the enemy who strip man of his robe of innocence and leave him half-dead—alive in body, but dead in soul.” (Expositio Evangelii sec. Lucam, VII).
The priest and Levite who pass by represent the Law and the prophets: they can diagnose the wound but not cure it. Only the Good Samaritan—Christ Himself—comes near, moved with compassion. He binds our wounds with oil and wine, the sacraments of healing; He places us on His beast, taking upon Himself our burden of sin; and He brings us to the inn, the Church, entrusting us to her ministers until His return.
St. Gregory the Great beautifully summarizes: “The Samaritan who carried the wounded man is our Redeemer, who deigned to bear our sins in His body. The inn is the present Church; the innkeeper is the order of pastors. And because He promised that He would return, He is referring to His second coming.” (Hom. 34 on the Gospels).
Law, Grace, and Charity United
Placed together, the Epistle and Gospel form a single harmonious teaching. The Law, glorious though it was, passes by the wounded man; it cannot restore him to life. The Spirit of Christ, however, heals and elevates. St. Paul proclaims the superiority of the New Covenant; the parable illustrates it in flesh and blood.
The lawyer asked about eternal life, and the Lord pointed him to charity: “Go, and do thou likewise.” This is not mere philanthropy, but participation in the very charity of Christ, who first loved us and poured out His Spirit into our hearts (Rom. 5:5). True neighborly love springs only from the new life of grace—the “ministration of righteousness” that St. Paul celebrates.
Conclusion
On this Sunday after Pentecost, the Church calls us to rejoice in the surpassing glory of the New Covenant: the glory not of fading letters, but of living grace; not of condemnation, but of justification. She bids us see in every neighbor the image of Christ, remembering that we ourselves were once the man left for dead until the Divine Samaritan came to our aid.
May we then, strengthened by the sacraments of His Church and filled with the Spirit, walk in that same charity, so that the command of the Savior—“Go, and do thou likewise”—becomes the pattern of our lives.