We continue. I can imagine the Scholar sitting there, amidst the other folks gathered around. His face, I think, reflects his being perplexed – perhaps it reflects ‘disturbance’ for he is ‘waking up’ or at least he is having a moment of being awake and aware (such moments we know can be quite disturbing). The teacher smiles the gentle smile of the wise and asks the Scholar: ‘So, who is the neighbor in the story?’ I can see the Scholar pausing, taking a breath or two, and then replying: ‘The person who helped the man in the ditch.’ To give us an idea of how difficult this was for the Scholar he could not even ‘name’ the helper (in this case a vile Samaritan). For us today, it might be that we could not ‘name’ the Muslim, or the Fundamentalist, or the African American or the Hispanic or the Homeless person or the Homosexual or the illegal immigrant or the . . . [gentle reader, I believe you get my idea].
Consider this: We define our neighbor by our love, by our compassion, by our empathy, by the depth of our caring. WE DEFINE OUR NEIGHBOR! By certain attitudes and actions we ‘name’ who is our neighbor. This is our gift, this ‘naming’ rooted in specific attitudes which are then reflected in specific actions.
I don’t first define a certain class of people and then choose my neighbor(s) from this group – leaving the rest to lie where they will (wounded in the ditch, for example). The great Teacher did not accept the question: ‘Who is my neighbor?’ The great Teacher presented us with a more powerful – and frequently more disturbing question – ‘To whom will I be a neighbor?’
As I reflect upon this second question it seems to me that I am able to respond to it only person-to-person and situation-by-situation. As I sit here this morning I am not able to know who might be my neighbor today. Nor do I know whether I will respond to the opportunity when it emerges; perhaps I will be asleep and not recognize the opportunity or perhaps I will be so busy that I will not notice or perhaps I will be so self-absorbed that I will not notice. It could be that the ‘priest’ and the ‘learned man’ did not even ‘see’ the wounded man in the ditch for they were not awake and aware – they were not seeking a neighbor nor were they seeking to be a good neighbor.
The condition of my heart will determine whether I have the ‘courage’ to ‘see’ and then ‘respond with love, compassion, empathy and care’ so that I become a good neighbor. It helps me to remember that ‘courage’ comes from the Old French ‘cuer’ which means ‘heart.’ This is truly a matter of my ‘heart.’
Today the Teacher might tell us, in our culture, the story of the good Muslim, or the good Illegal Immigrant, or the good Homosexual, or the good Hispanic or the good African American, or the good Abortion Doctor or the good Atheist, or the good Christian Fundamentalist or the good. . . (once again, gentle reader, you can fill in the name).
Will I have the heart, the courage, to be a neighbor today?