Olivia: When a Stranger Becomes a Parable

Often, encounters with strangers are just small bright spots in a day. A shared smile on the subway, a compliment, a quick chat. Then there are the other encounters—the ones that land differently. A stranger says something that lingers. They challenge us, they may invite us to see ourselves more clearly, they might haunt us.

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The Story: Olivia

I took a seat across from Olivia on a train in south London. When I commented on her beautiful long hair she whispered to me that it was not hers. I whispered back asking if it was uncomfortable, and she said not really. The intimacy of this moment sealed a bond between us, and we leaned towards each other as we talked.

We talked about London and New York and she warned me that London had become very dangerous - had I not heard about the murder in Knightsbridge; a young man had been killed for his Rolex watch. “Why didn’t anybody intervene,” she asked, her eyes wide with question and horror. “Do you know how much security is in that area? I would have done something,” she insisted. I admired her courage and her moral outrage and so when she asked whether I would have done something I agreed that I too would have felt compelled to intervene. Perhaps emboldened by my sympathy, Olivia said she did not think she could live with herself if she did not intervene. Her outrage was, at least in part, levelled at those that were witness to the violence, who did not act.

Our conversation turned then to the mud she had on the hems of her jeans, and how she would need to change before going out. At Clapham Junction I got off and we expressed a hope to see each other again.

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Living 'Scripture' on the Train

The encounter with Olivia demanded something when she expressed her moral outrage.

The encounter was a bright spot in my day - it contained a sweet intimacy, we had a good chat and we wished each other well when we said good-bye. But it had this additional element that can occur with strangers when we meet each other as equals in a transient, liminal space - she could express moral outrage and test her own courage. She could also seek validation from a stranger.

When I reflect on our encounter, I find myself thinking of the Parable of the Good Samaritan in the Gospel of Luke. Jesus tells the story in response to the question, “Who is my neighbor?” He doesn’t define who a neighbor is so much as he shows what a good neighbor does.

The story goes like this: A man is robbed and left half dead on the side of the road. First, a priest passes by and walks on the other side of the road to avoid the wounded man. Next, a Levite does the same. Then a Samaritan passes, and he does not cross over but instead “takes pity” on the man, tends to his wounds, puts him on his donkey and takes him to an inn where he pays for his care. The Samaritan goes out of his way to care for the wounded man.

The parable calls us to consider not just who our neighbor is, but how to care for that neighbor. In the Gospel, Jesus tells the story to the disciples, to allow them to consider what they would do.

Olivia’s concerns reflect this challenge. She considers the man in Knightsbridge her neighbor; she would be the good neighbor by doing something. She would be courageous; she would act with the compassion and care that the parable suggests is the good neighbor.

Then she asks me: Would you do the same? She pulls me into the situation. She challenges my moral compass just as the parable makes demands.

I wonder how often we are similarly provoked by strangers but are not attentive to the stranger’s invitation. The connection to another story, scriptural or otherwise, places us imaginatively deeper into a situation in which we can examine ourselves. In this story, it is biblical. In another, it might be a fairy tale, a novel, a poem, a Jataka tale from the Buddhist tradition,.

By drawing me into the moral dilemma, Olivia invites me to consider what I would do—what are the limits of my own courage? She challenges, and in doing so she has a transformative effect on me.

I might say the encounter 'scriptured' me.