Who Is My Neighbor?

WHO IS MY NEIGHBOR?

“On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. ‘Teacher,’ he asked, ‘what must I do to inherit eternal life?’

“’What is written in the Law?’ he replied. ‘How do you read it?’

“He answered: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’, and ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’

“’You have answered correctly,’ Jesus replied. ‘Do this and you will live.’

“But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

Luke 10:25-29 (NIV)

Most of us know the “rest of the story”, about a Jewish man on a journey, who was attacked and robbed on a lonely stretch of highway. Two of his fellow countrymen, both members of the clergy, sped by with “pressing religious business” to attend to.  It wasn’t until the man’s enemy, a despised Samaritan, came along, that the man received the necessary medical attention he needed.

At the end of his story, Jesus asked the lawyer, “’Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?’”

“The expert in the law replied, ‘The one who had mercy on him.’

“Jesus told him, ‘Go and do likewise.’”

Luke 10:36,37 (NIV)

Every time we set up camp, as we did this weekend at Coastal Dunes RV Park in Pismo Beach, I look around at who my neighbors are: The guy in the spot across from us with the words “Eat Shit” in big bold letters across the back of his American flag-waving pickup with a dune buggy in the back. (Turns out that pickup driver is bipolar, is very explosive, and gives his parents a lot of grief. His father talked to Steve on Sunday after the pickup left.) The people next door with the yapping Chihuahua. Those are the same people who brought over lighter fluid on Thanksgiving night to help with our wet firewood problem. The friendly dairy family down the way, with their half million dollar RV, calling out “Happy Thanksgiving” to us as we walked by with our dogs. The woman on the other side, carefully combing her long, dark hair at the picnic table every morning.

This random assortment of people are “my neighbors” for the weekend. How I speak to them, interact with them, share camping equipment or restaurant suggestions, tells whether I believe Jesus, that showing love to my neighbor is that important: it reveals the state of my own heart, whether I have love for other people, created in God’s image, or whether I hold them in contempt or envy.

As we head into the Christmas season, we will be encountering many “neighbors” at gatherings. Will we be the ones who show mercy to the misfits, the marginalized, the misjudged? Or will we remain in our comfort zone, speeding by in our haste to take care of “pressing business”, and neglecting the mercy of a handshake, a hug, a warm greeting of “I’m glad you came!”?

Let’s be “the ones who show mercy” this holiday season!

Posted by Mama O.