In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus tells the story of a traveler beaten and left for dead on the side of the road.

Two respected men pass by without stopping. Finally, a Samaritan — a foreigner, an outsider — sees the man’s suffering, is moved with compassion, and kneels beside him. He tends the man’s wounds, shelters him, and ensures his recovery.

When Jesus asks, “Who was his neighbor?” the answer is clear: the one who showed mercy.

That ancient story is playing out again on the streets of Wheeling and in communities across West Virginia. Once again, people who have lost almost everything — home, work, family, stability — are being told to move along. Once again, those of us who pass by must decide what kind of neighbors we will be.

The city of Wheeling recently announced plans to close the sanctioned homeless encampment in Fulton, effective Dec. 1. The city calls it a “failed experiment.” Officials say the camp has grown, that it has become a nuisance, that it was never meant to be permanent. I don’t question that local leaders are wrestling with hard realities — safety, sanitation, scarce resources. But I am heartbroken to see another community responding to human suffering with enforcement rather than accompaniment.

This is not only happening in Wheeling.

Similar “sweeps” and closures are unfolding across our state — from Morgantown to Huntington, from Charleston to Parkersburg — as winter approaches.

Each time, the pattern repeats: camps are cleared, belongings are discarded, and people are displaced to riverbanks, wooded lots, or abandoned buildings.

The problem is not solved — it is scattered.

At Catholic Charities West Virginia, our mission is grounded in the belief that every person has inherent dignity, no matter their circumstances.

Homelessness is not a crime. It is a symptom of deeper wounds: untreated mental illness, addiction, job loss, unaffordable housing, and generational poverty. Addressing those wounds requires patience, compassion, and long-term commitment — not a citation or a bulldozer.

Research bears this out. Cities that have closed camps without creating real alternatives have not seen sustained reductions in crime or costs. In contrast, communities that pair outreach with low-barrier shelter, permanent supportive housing, and behavioral-health care show measurable improvement in public safety, health, and community wellbeing.

Housing ends homelessness; displacement does not.

The Samaritan in the Gospel didn’t ask whether the man by the road had made bad choices. He didn’t walk away because the situation was complicated. He drew near. He spent his own resources to ensure care.

That’s the model our faith calls us to follow — and it’s the model that should guide our public policy.

I know that city officials and community members alike want a safer, healthier Wheeling. So do we. But safety will not come from pushing our most vulnerable neighbors into the shadows. It will come when we, like the Good Samaritan, choose mercy over indifference — when we build systems that see people not as problems to be managed, but as brothers and sisters to be accompanied. As Wheeling prepares to close its camp, may we ask ourselves again: Who is my neighbor? And how will I show mercy on the road between Jerusalem and Jericho — between comfort and compassion, between fear and love?

Mark Phillips serves as the CEO of Catholic Charities West Virginia.