Carolyn Carney
Neighbor
One of the neighbor images that come to mind is from the television show Home Improvement. Whenever Tim Allen's character was wrestling with some inner issue or family crisis he'd go in the backyard and have a conversation with his neighbor over the fence. But the identity of the neighbor was always cloaked in mystery, often in humorous ways. We never get to see his face fully.
Is that not how it is in real life? We understand "neighbor" in the literal sense: someone who lives near; in the Old English: "a near dweller." Today, our busy, microwaveable lifestyles keep neighbors at a distance. We drive our car into the driveway, sometimes right into the garage, and then into the house and often never stop to even greet those who live near.
But Jesus' intention and understanding of neighbor is much more familiar and intimate. In first century Palestine even if you lived on a farm someone who lived near (a neighbor) was important, especially in times of calamity or need. In Jesus' day your daily routine rarely took you away from your neighborhood, rather you rubbed shoulders with neighbors all day long.
How are we to understand what Jesus meant by loving our neighbor? Being a neighbor feels so different in industrialized nations as compared to the agrarian society of Jesus' day. Today we even refer to nations as neighbors. But has there been any nation or civilization in history who has not struggled to love their neighbor?
Egyptians and Hebrews. Koreans and Japanese. Settlers to the "New World" and Native Americans. Portuguese and Native South Americans. European explorers and colonists and African peoples. Hutus and Tutsis. Serbs and Croats. Indians and Pakistanis. Catholics and Protestants. The United States and Mexico. It's as if we'd rather dominate or conquer or turn a deaf ear to our neighbors rather than treat them in a way we'd like to be treated.
So often these days we hear about the Global Village. We have neighbors and then we have this vast NEIGHBORHOOD, encompassing the globe. What happens on Wall Street affects economies in every country around the world. If there is instability in the US the tension is felt globally. This interconnectedness was felt palpably when CNN brought us live pictures of last December's tsunami strike. Individuals and nations rose to the occasion to meet the needs of devastated neighbors. Commentators have said such a global outpouring has never been seen before.
Sending a check to World Vision, though, for tsunami relief does not absolve us from our duty to love our neighbors who live next door or just around the corner. Neighbors are both next door and across the sea. Neighbors look like me and sound like me, but they also look quite different and may not even know my language well.
When Jesus is asked by a lawyer, "Who is my neighbor?" he tells a story. (Luke 10: 25-37) I love that about Jesus. A vivid word picture leaves a lasting impression. But in fact, Jesus twists the question. (I also love that about Jesus, except of course, when he does it to me.) The lawyer wants to narrow the field and have boundaries defined for him. He wants a list of names that he can check off. Luke writes that he wanted to justify himself (v. 29). But Jesus' story is about neighborliness. Jesus doesn't care about lists; he cares about character, integrity, and love. Small gestures of neighborliness can go further than we can imagine.
Trevor Huddleston, a white Anglican priest, chose to live in a Black township in South Africa, in the 1940s. It was unheard of then and not much different even today. But Father Huddleston immersed himself into the lives of his parishioners; he shopped where they shopped, walked where they walked, visited in their homes. One day as he walked through the dirt streets of Sophiatown he passed a black woman (who was not a parishioner) walking with her young son in tow. Huddleston simply tipped his hat to the woman. In that day it was what a man did to show respect to a woman. But a white man to a black woman?! Never! The little boy was taken aback by this display. This small token of the priest's neighborliness left an indelible impression on the young boy. The little boy was Desmond Tutu, who went on to become a Nobel Peace Prize-winning Anglican Archbishop and conscience to his nation.
So whether we can see our neighbor visibly, like Trevor Huddleston, or she is partially not hidden from us, like Tim Allen's neighbor, or our neighbor is someone we will never know, like those who suffered in Tsunami, Jesus' call is the same: Love your neighbor in the same way you would like to be shown love. Jesus' words are hard. But sometimes we can begin with just tipping our hat.
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