Most of the "cloistered brothers" identified with the robbers--at least for a part of their lives. Some identified with the innkeeper, who probably wrestled with his conscience, regarding whether or not he could take advantage of the Samaritan.
Personally? No matter how many times I read the story, I always identified with the Samaritan. I could see myself coming across someone who needed help. Upon my first reading, my thoughts were confused and rushed:
How can I help?
He's a Jew.
He may be repulsed by my being a Samaritan.
I can't take him home.
I can't take him to an inn, I have no money.
Who knows how much this will cost?
I have no other means to help him.
Then I listened to my "cloistered brothers" share their thoughts. This time, some said they were the priests; they never would have noticed the man in the ditch. Custody of the eyes, you know.
I read it again. This time I identified what my problem was. Again, I was the Samaritan. Again, I thought of excuses why I couldn't help the man. I concluded that I couldn't take a chance that this entire scene wasn't a "set up." If I went to help him, I would immediately be set upon by the robbers. The wounded man was a trap. And even if it wasn't, the wounded man might sue me for causing more damage to him than the original violence.
See, I was AFRAID to get involved.
And I justified my passing by the wounded man, by saying that I'd go for help. I'd look for some Jewish people who could help a fellow Jew. This is what I determined the intelligent answer.
Although my cloistered brothers and I, shared our thoughts, regarding the different roles we were playing, I don't think anyone identified with the wounded man, who needed help.
Isn't that odd? We are all wounded. We all have needed help, at one time, or another.