Forty-two years since the birth of Hekima University College, the HUC family gathers to celebrate years of academic excellence, a milestone in its existence, and to inaugurate a year of deep thought, ‘dreaming deeply and flying high’ as the motto of the year. In his moving virtual speech, Rev. Dr. David Neuhaus, a Jesuit biblical scholar, calls for prophetic courage in an increasingly divided and fractured world. He draws this from his roots, which span from Nazi Germany, apartheid South Africa, and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Drawing from his personal history, biblical parable, and contemporary crises, Dr. Neuhaus urged the Hekima family to embrace the prophetic mantle – to “refuse to simply pass by” the wounded and marginalized, following the example of the Good Samaritan.
The theme of the event, “We refuse to simply pass you by, prophets of hope in an increasingly divided world, ” sourced from the Jerusalem Voice for Justice declaration “Out of the depths, I cry to you” (April 1, 2025), offers both a challenge and a charge. The words borrowed from the parable of the Good Samaritan (Lk 10:25-37) became the central metaphor of the lecture, a meditation on the power of stopping, seeing, and acting in a world that normalizes walking past suffering.
A contemporary parable
He begins with the parable of the Good Samaritan, recalling how travelers on the dangerous Jerusalem–to–Jericho road avoided the wounded man, fearing ambush, trickery, or inconvenience. “It was a lonely road, for those who attacked and left the wounded person there might be lying in wait to ambush, or the wounded person might be pretending and suddenly leap up and attack. Only the Samaritan, an outsider, broke the bonds of fear and helped the wounded man; he overturned the habitual way of thinking,” he said. Quoting Martin Luther King Jr., he noted that fear often governs our choices: ‘What will happen to me if I stop?’ The Samaritan reversed the question: ‘What will happen to my neighbor if I do not stop?’ That reversal is the heart of prophecy. That reversal, Neuhaus explained, is the heart of prophecy. The Good Samaritan reverses the question: “What will happen to my neighbor if I do not stop? In this reversal lies the heart of prophecy. “The Good Samaritan is a prophet because she refuses indifference, she refuses silence, and she refuses to pass by simply.” For David, prophecy is not a prediction but an intervention: stepping into crisis, grieving the suffering, remembering past deliverance, denouncing injustice, and nurturing hope. He further defines a prophet as one who dares to say, “Here I am,” and to step into the breach. Speaking out, speaking for, speaking instead of, and speaking to.
Personal history: Between exile and privilege
Dr. Neuhaus’ reflection was not merely abstract theology; it was interwoven with his personal story, a triple historical context that has shaped his conscience and his prophetic voice. His grandparents, Jewish Germans, fought proudly for Germany in World War I. Yet two decades later, they faced the Nazi onslaught that made it impossible to be both Jewish and German. “Those who did not flee were massacred, gassed, or forced to take their own lives when the Nazis came to the door,” he recalled. Only a few neighbors stopped to help. Too many simply passed by. The family found refuge in South Africa, where the young Biblist was born. There, privilege took another form, whiteness under apartheid. “This time we were part of the privileged white elite,” he said. “But my parents raged against the system. They insisted we not only stop and help but also understand what had brought such brutality into being.” As a teenager, he was sent to Jerusalem to escape conscription into South Africa’s military. But in Israel, he recognized echoes of apartheid in ethnocentric state structures and occupation. “Once again, I was part of the privileged,” he reflected. “And once again, I saw parallels: Nazi Germany, apartheid South Africa, and ethnocentric Israel. Each showed me what it means when too many pass by.”
Crisis in prophecy
Moving from history to theology, the speaker unpacked the biblical meaning of prophecy. “In Scripture, the prophet enters crisis. Crisis, from the Greek krisis, means judgment, discernment. It is a breaking point in the relationship between God and humanity,” he explained. This is saying that the prophet serves as an intermediary. Citing the late biblical scholar Walter Brueggemann, he described prophecy as imagination, the ability to perceive reality as broken and to envision alternatives. “The powers insist the world is fixed: it has always been this way, it must be this way, and it will always be this way. But the prophet says no. The prophet imagines otherwise.” The prophet envisions a reality that differs from the one presented at the table. To be a prophet, practicality is essential; our words must be united by our actions, rendering God’s presence even in His absence. Quoting Jewish theologian Abraham Joshua Heschel, he described prophets as those who “live God’s suffering,” whose inner lives are storm with divine pathos, compelling them to speak and act.
Good Samaritan: a model of a prophet
The Good Samaritan, he argued, embodies this prophetic imagination through action. “Luke strings together verbs: he saw, was moved with compassion, went to him, bandaged, poured, lifted, brought, took care, gave,” he noted. Prophecy here is not abstract words but concrete acts. Unlike those who saw, did not stop, and crossed over to the other side, the Good Samaritan saw, but as God sees, a child of God with the imago Dei. The Samaritan’s compassion echoes the compassion of Jesus himself, an inward feeling, costly, and unignorable. The scholar relates this ‘compassion’ to that of the parable of the prodigal son (Lk 15:11-31). It echoes a movement of both God towards humanity and, in moments of crisis, the movement of the prophet towards his brothers and sisters. Unlike Cain, who denied responsibility for Abel with the question, “Am I my brother’s keeper?”, the Samaritan took responsibility for the wounded one. “He saw not an enemy or inconvenience but a brother, a sister, a fellow child of God,” the scholar said.
Contemporary witnessing
Yet prophecy, he warned, is not naive optimism. True hope emerges only after lament and memory. “The prophet laments, voicing the suffering others would rather ignore. She remembers, recalling that it has not always been like this, that God has acted before.” Memory, therefore, constructs a bridge from the past over the devastating landscape of the now to a future hope. In the darkest times, hope may seem extinguished, as with Habakkuk’s cry, “How long, O Lord?” or Jesus’ desolation on the cross, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me.” But the memory of Easter renews the conviction that death does not have the final word. “Good Friday and Holy Saturday give way to Easter Sunday. The same God who once acted will act again,” he affirmed.
The scholar then turned to modern prophetic figures who refused to pass by. He remembered those who risked their lives to save Jews during the Holocaust. He recalled South Africans who resisted apartheid, many dying or imprisoned. He cited Israeli and Palestinian activists today who speak against ethnocentrism. Most poignantly, he praised Pope Francis, who, until his death in April 2025, called daily to the Catholic parish in Gaza, checking on survivors amid bombardment. “He refused to pass by, he refused silence,” the Jesuit said. “Thank you, Pope Francis, for being a Good Samaritan.”
A call to Africa and HUC, as a prophetic university
Turning to his audience, he asked what relevance this message held for Kenya and the continent of Africa. “Can Africa produce prophets of hope?” he challenged. “Can this Jesuit University become a Good Samaritan, refusing to pass by, stopping at the side of the poor, lamenting, remembering, denouncing, and reimagining?” He pointed to HUC’s strategic plan (2024–2030), which commits to “transforming society for the greater glory of God and upholding human dignity.” This, he argued, must be measured not only in academic excellence, but in prophetic engagement. He stressed that students should reflect on their experiences and apply the knowledge from their studies to generate appropriate and contextual responses to their situations in life and work, thereby becoming architects of transformation in the Church and society. In a humble request, he proposes HUC to be “evaluated not only by academic excellence but by a commitment to the formulation of lament, memory, denouncement, and hope.” “Theology must become God-talk that begins at the side of the poor,” he said. “Peace studies must seek to see as God sees, business must prioritize justice over profit, interfaith dialogue must build inclusion, and migration studies must embody solidarity.” At the heart of this, he said, is Ignatian spirituality, which enables discernment to realign institutions toward compassion and justice.
Dr. David proposed that HUC become a prophetic university, a community where lament, memory, denunciation, and hope shape intellectual and spiritual formation. “The graduates of this university must be men and women of faith, ardently engaged in building a vibrant African Church and society rooted in solidarity,” he said, quoting the school’s mission statement. This would mean re-centering the margins, turning those relegated to the periphery into the heart of reflection and action.
Dangerous road ahead
Yet, he cautioned, the prophetic path is costly. Like the Samaritan on the dangerous Jericho road, prophets risk ambush, misunderstanding, and even death. But to refuse is to abandon humanity itself. “Hope does not ask: what will happen to me if I stop? Hope asks: What will happen to my neighbor if I do not?” He concluded with a prayer: that hope never be extinguished, that prophets arise in every generation, and that Africa, and HUC in particular, embody the Good Samaritan’s courage.
A global call
The lecture resonated with the audience in Nairobi, as it effectively linked their local context to global struggles. Kenya faces political divisions, economic inequality, and ecological crises, all of which cry out for prophetic witness. The scholar’s message echoed a universal appeal: whether in Nazi Germany, apartheid South Africa, Israel-Palestine, or modern-day Africa, the temptation to “pass by” remains strong. Prophecy means resisting that temptation, stopping in compassion, and reimagining a different future. “Refusing to pass by is the essence of faith,” the Jesuit said. “It is what keeps hope alive.”
Conclusion
The Good Samaritan, he suggested, is not just an ancient parable, but a roadmap for today. She is a prophet, a protester, a healer, and a witness. At a time when global divisions deepen and indifference takes hold, his message was clear: prophetic hope is not a luxury but a necessity. And it begins with one choice, to stop, to see, to act. “May this university,” he urged, “be judged not only by knowledge produced but by wounds healed, by lives restored, by hope rekindled. This is prophecy. This is the Good Samaritan’s legacy.”
By Sr. Stella Oduor, FSSA, Third Year JST
