Who is my neighbor?

There is a story about a man who fell in deep debt and was forced to sell his house to repay his debts. He posted his house in which he lived for 20 years to be sold for a thousand dinars. The house itself wasn’t worth all that much, and no buyers presented themselves. So his friends advised him to reduce the price to 500 Dinars. But he refused. Finally a close friend came to him and said: my dear friend, I know it is hard for you to sell the house of a lifetime but no one will ever buy it for a 1000. Now listen to me and post it for 500. The owner then looked at his friend and said: “I am selling the house for 500 Dinars and the neighbors for another 500. My neighbors were as dear to me as my house itself.”

Tradition has it that this story acts as the source of the known Arabic proverb: “choose your neighbor before your house” (of course it rhymes in Arabic). In the Arab World, we have so many proverbs about neighbors, like: “your near neighbor is better than your distant brother, a neighbor is a neighbor even if they wronged you, a neighbor is more worthy of splitting inheritance, happy neighbor happy life, if you hate your neighbor change your house,” and many others… and if that indicates anything, it is the closeness of communities that inhabited our area, the significance of neighbors and the necessity of treating them as one’s own kin. For they made one’s little world; a neighbor was the recipient of one’s care, it was your neighbor who helped you in your hard days, it was your neighbor who fought with you against outsiders, it was your neighbor who supported you and your family when in need. The word was and is still used metaphorically to indicate someone who is dear.

“How do I inherit eternal life?” A question directed to Jesus by a lawyer or scribe. “Loving God” and “loving one’s neighbor” was the simple answer to his inquiry. Two commandments he knows very well by virtue of his job. But then he asks: “and who is my neighbor?”

The lawyer wasn’t stupid; he knew who his neighbors were. But by his question he wants to know perhaps the least he has to do. “Could you tell me who I really have to love and who I don’t have to work so hard to love?” he probably was wishing that Jesus would narrow it down for him; after all, it is hard to love each and every neighbor the same way you love yourself. That task becomes easier if you got to pick and choose; preferably not more than one!

Jesus tells a story: a man embarks on a journey, he gets robbed and beaten up somewhere along the way. Away from his neighbors, away from people who would protect him or help him stand after being attacked. It is a story of a man in a place where he had no neighbors.

We know nothing about that man, we don’t know his background, we don’t know if he was good or bad, if he deserved to be beaten up or if he deserved to be helped out. All we know is that he was in need. Then, three travelers pass by him, two of them perceive him as a stranger, and one treats him as if he was his neighbor. This latter just happens to be a Samaritan, a distant man not only by land but also by theology.

Here, the question “Who’s my neighbor?” gets a whole new perspective. ‘The unexpected, the previously judged and regarded as enemy, the filthy and the unorthodox… that could be your neighbor.’

But when confronted with the radicalism of “Go and do likewise” we all turn to Jesus and ask: “no seriously, who is my neighbor?”

“Well, who are you?” replies Jesus.

In this story, Jesus shifts the focus from ‘who is an appropriate object of neighborly love?’ to ‘who is a true bestower of neighborly love’ by asking: “which of the three men was a neighbor to the man who was beaten?”

“Who is my neighbor?”

No. “Who are you willing to be a neighbor to?”

Friends we live in a scarcity-based society: we work hard for getting and keeping what we’ve got at any cost, we’ve created separations, we perceive people as neighbors and strangers. The former being deserving recipients of our care and love, but we are free from any obligation towards the latter.

But love and generosity don’t work that way, Jesus says. We fool ourselves when we entertain the notion that there is only so much love to go around.

We show our love for God by loving each other, and the ways we show love are as varied as humanity itself. We don’t have to go out of our way to do extravagant charity like the Samaritan in the story, but there is no limit to the opportunities we have to fulfill this commandment.

“Who is my neighbor?”

Who are our neighbors here at Parkview? The obvious answer is: the vendors outside our doors, the Catholic Church and its attendants using our parking spots, the homeless folks camping around our neighborhood, the homeless youth care facility around the block. Who else is our neighbor, Jesus keeps asking. Or more accurately who else could we become neighbors to? In Sacramento? Outside Sacramento? A child we can sponsor in Uganda, or a family that we can advocate for at the borders…

“Who is my neighbor?” Everyone replies Jesus, not only the near but also the far.

Friends, how far are we willing to go?