I've always found that the godly play parable of the good samaritan is one of those lessons that sticks with you long after the gold box is put back on the shelf. There's something about the way Jerome Berryman designed this approach that turns a story we've all heard a thousand times into something brand new. If you've ever sat in a circle with a group of kids—or even adults—and watched those simple wooden figures move across a strip of felt, you know exactly what I mean. It isn't just about "being nice"; it's about the messy, complicated reality of who we choose to see as our neighbor.
If you're new to the world of Godly Play, the first thing you'll notice is the silence. It's not an awkward silence, but a focused one. Unlike a lot of traditional Sunday school setups where there's a lot of shouting and glitter, this is quiet. You start by bringing out the gold box. In this system, parables always live in gold boxes because they are valuable, like a gift, but they can also be hard to open. They have lids and sides that keep the truth hidden until we're ready to look inside.
Setting the Stage with the Gold Box
When you pull that gold box off the shelf, the kids usually lean in. They know a parable is coming, and they know parables are a bit like riddles. For the godly play parable of the good samaritan, the materials are deceptively simple. You've got a long, brown strip of felt that represents the road from Jerusalem to Jericho. It's a dangerous road, full of sharp turns and places where people could hide.
As the storyteller, you don't just read from a book. You move the pieces slowly. You lay down the road, and then you introduce the characters. First, there's the person traveling. Then, the robbers. It's a bit intense for a moment—the traveler is stripped, beaten, and left "half dead" on the side of the road.
What I love about this specific Godly Play lesson is how it handles the "half dead" part. It doesn't shy away from the reality of the situation. The figure is placed off to the side, and then the waiting begins. This is where the tension builds. Who is going to help?
The Priest, the Levite, and the Surprise
We watch as the Priest comes down the road. In the Godly Play version, you move the figure slowly toward the person in the ditch. You might expect him to stop, but he doesn't. He moves to the other side of the road and keeps going. Then comes the Levite. Same thing. He's someone who knows the law, someone who should help, but he stays on the far side of the brown felt and disappears.
At this point, the room is usually silent. You can feel the kids thinking, Why didn't they stop? They don't have to say it; you can see it on their faces.
Then comes the Samaritan. Now, if you're telling this to modern kids, you have to remember that "Samaritan" usually just sounds like a brand of hospital or a charity to them. But in the context of the godly play parable of the good samaritan, we try to hint at the fact that these people didn't get along. The Samaritan was the person the audience would least expect to be the hero.
The Samaritan stops. He doesn't just look; he acts. He puts the injured man on his own animal, takes him to an inn, and pays for his care. He goes above and beyond. By the time the storyteller finishes moving the wooden figures, the "road" on the floor looks like a map of a very difficult journey.
The Power of the Wondering Questions
The storytelling is only half the battle. The real magic of Godly Play happens during the "wondering." This is the part where we stop being teachers and start being fellow travelers. There are no right or wrong answers here, which is a huge relief for kids who spend all week being tested at school.
I like to start with something like, "I wonder how the person in the ditch felt when they saw the Priest coming?"
Sometimes a kid will say, "They felt happy!" and then follow it up with, "And then they felt really, really sad when he didn't stop."
Or I might ask, "I wonder who the neighbor was in this story?"
This is where it gets deep. Most people naturally want to say they are the Samaritan. We all want to be the hero who saves the day. But sometimes, a child will say something that floors you. They might say they feel like the person in the ditch. Or they might realize they've been the one who walked by on the other side of the road because they were in a hurry or scared.
The godly play parable of the good samaritan doesn't wrap things up with a neat little bow. It leaves you sitting with the questions. It makes you wonder if you can be a neighbor to someone you don't even like.
Why the Visuals Matter So Much
You might think, Can't I just tell the story without the felt and the wooden people? Sure, you could. But there's something about the physical movement that anchors the story in a child's brain. When they see the Samaritan figure actually stop and "bend over" the injured man, it creates a mental image that words alone can't quite match.
The simplicity of the figures is intentional, too. They don't have faces painted on them. This allows the kids to project their own emotions onto the characters. The Priest can look angry, scared, or just busy, depending on what the child is feeling that day. The Samaritan can look like a stranger or a friend. It's an open-ended way of learning that respects the child's own spiritual life.
Creating Space for Reflection
One thing I've noticed when leading the godly play parable of the good samaritan is that you can't rush it. If you try to power through the story just to get to the craft or the snack, you lose the whole point. Godly Play is about the process.
After the wondering questions, the kids usually move into "work time." This isn't work in the sense of chores. It's a time for them to respond to the story in whatever way they need to. Some might go straight for the clay and try to mold the road or the characters. Others might grab the markers and draw the inn.
I've even seen some kids just sit and stare at the gold box for a while. That's okay, too. They are processing a very big idea: that being a neighbor isn't about proximity; it's about compassion.
Bringing the Lesson Home
So, what do we actually take away from this? If we're just teaching that "it's good to help people," we're missing the revolutionary heart of the parable. The godly play parable of the good samaritan challenges our boundaries. It asks us who we are willing to "see" and who we choose to ignore.
It's a tough lesson even for us adults. Honestly, I think I learn more from watching the kids interact with this story than I do from reading a dozen commentaries on it. Kids have this raw honesty. They recognize the unfairness of the road and the bravery of the Samaritan in a way that we sometimes lose as we get older and more cynical.
If you're thinking about trying this out, don't worry about being a perfect storyteller. You don't need a theater degree. You just need to be present. Lay out the felt, move the figures, and let the story do the heavy lifting. The parable has been around for a couple of thousand years for a reason—it's plenty strong enough to speak for itself.
At the end of the day, when you put the lid back on that gold box, you aren't just putting away a Sunday school lesson. You're tucking away a tiny seed of empathy that, hopefully, will keep growing in those kids (and in you) every time you see someone "on the side of the road" in real life. It's not just a story; it's a way of looking at the world. And that's why the godly play parable of the good samaritan remains such a vital piece of the Godly Play journey.