Neighbors
Many of us remember the children’s TV show “Mr. Rogers
Neighborhood”, with Fred Rogers and his cardigan sweater, singing “It’s a
beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day for a neighbor…would you be
mine, could you be mine, won’t you be my neighbor.” Fred Rogers was an ordained Presbyterian
minister, and his show helped young viewers think about what it means to be a
neighbor.
“Won’t you be my neighbor?”
Over the course of his ministry, Jesus’ answer to the question “Won’t
you be my neighbor” challenged opponents and supporters alike. In our Gospel reading, Jesus was in
Jerusalem, and while he had gathered quite a following in Galilee and even in potentially
hostile Samaria, in Jerusalem, Jesus mostly got into trouble. After a number of clashes with the “powers
that were” – about whether to pay taxes to Caesar, among other issues – Jesus
was quizzed by a Pharisee who was an expert in the law: “What is the greatest commandment?” Without hesitation, Jesus said, “Love the
Lord with all your heart, and soul, and mind and strength. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it: love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments hang the law and
the prophets.”
Neither of these are original with Jesus – and, in fact, the
Pharisees agreed with his interpretation.
The first and great commandment, “Love the LORD with all your heart and
soul and mind and strength” comes from Deuteronomy 6, verses 4-5, a passage
known as the Shema: “Hear, O Israel, the
LORD is our God, the LORD alone. You shall love the LORD your God with all your
heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might.” Similarly, the second commandment, which Jesus
said was like the first, comes from Leviticus chapter 19, verse 18: “You shall not take vengeance or bear a
grudge against any of your people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself: I am the LORD.”
I think that for many, the rub comes in the phrase “any of
your people.” Who are “your
people”? How do we distinguish “your
people” from “not your people”. Where
are the boundaries? Do we interpret this
verse from Leviticus in as narrow a way as possible – thus minimizing the
number of people whom we are in duty bound to love – or in as wide a way as
possible. Or, back to Mr. Rogers
question, “Won’t you be my neighbor? Who
will you be your neighbor?” Of course, Jesus opted for the latter,
infinitely more challenging option; essentially, that our neighbor is anyone in
need who we’re in a position to help. Jesus’
answer to anybody’s question “won’t you be my neighbor” was always “yes”. And in saying that this second commandment
was like unto the first, he was saying that love of neighbor was like love of
God; in fact inseparable from love of God.
We might remember that in Luke’s version of this story, the expert in
the law came back with Jesus with the question, “And who is my neighbor?” and
Jesus responded with the parable of the Good Samaritan.
Of course, as people of faith, I think we like to tell
ourselves that we love everyone. As long as we stick to generalities, the
commandment to love our neighbor doesn’t sound that bad. Who could be against love? Who doesn’t want neighbors? But when we get down to cases, loving our
neighbor can be very difficult and very costly.
Sticking up for unpopular neighbors can make us unpopular, risky, even
dangerous to our health. We might
remember Nazi Germany, when Hitler’s government took strong, already-existing German
prejudices against Jews – prejudices unfortunately supported by some of German
reformer Martin Luther’s writings near the end of his life, in which he ranted
against Jews – and whipped those prejudices into anti-Jewish hysteria,
ultimately leading to the Holocaust. A tiny
number of Christian leaders in Germany spoke out against Hitler – German pastor
Dietrich Bonhoeffer was one example – and Bonhoeffer himself was executed. Sadly, the vast majority of Christians in
Germany, from the top of the clergy to the folks in the pews, cheered Hitler
on, or at best were silent. In that
awful situation, for the most part, the church failed miserably in its mission.
The question “won’t you be my neighbor” was scary coming from Jews under Nazi
persecution, and all too often the answer they got was “no”. In that setting,
love of neighbor could become very costly indeed. On the other hand, nobody ever said that
following Jesus was going to be a cake walk.
You don’t need me to tell you that if you turn on the TV
news, you won’t have to listen very long before the word “Ebola” comes up. Particularly since a handful of people
traveling from west Africa – mostly medical personnel – have contracted the
disease, with to the best of my knowledge one fatality so far, there is growing
anxiety about the disease. And by hyping
stories about Ebola over and over, the news media has generated more heat than
light, leading people to panic while leaving them with questions: How easily
can Ebola be spread? Can Ebola be transmitted through the air? If I ride the El, am I at risk for
contracting Ebola? And the CDC tells us
that unless you come into contact with the bodily fluids of one infected –
blood, mucus, saliva, etc – you’re not going to get Ebola. This isn’t to say we should be complacent –
medical personnel treating Ebola patients, in particularly, have to be
incredibly careful and take incredible precautions so that they don’t get
infected. But for most of us – I’ll speak for myself –
realistically I’m infinitely more likely to die of cancer or heart disease – or
because I work in a dicey neighborhood, there’s always the chance of catching a
random stray bullet – infinitely more likely to die of one of these causes than
of Ebola. And I’d say the same is true
for all of us here.
Because Ebola has hit several West African nations very
hard, particularly Liberia, the panic around Ebola has the potential to create
a stigma not only against those specific persons infected with the disease, but
against people from Liberia in general.
The fact that several travelers from Liberia contracted Ebola raises a
number of issues with which our country has always struggled– race, class, and
immigration status. There is a large
Liberian community in Southwest Philadelphia – indeed, I preached my very first
sermon to a Liberian congregation in Southwest, and later helped that
congregation find a new place to worship when they could no longer afford the
space they had been renting, and at that church I met Isaac. More faithful Christians you’ll find nowhere
else. But the Liberian community in this
country, which already struggles with poverty, faces the threat of being
stigmatized, labeled as Ebola carriers – and such labels can lead to
discrimination and even violence. Once
again, we’re faced with Mr. Rogers question, now from the Liberian community,
“Won’t you be my neighbor?” And so we in
the church can be neighbors to our Liberian neighbors by refusing to be
panicked and stampeded by the media, refusing to give into prejudice, and by
standing by our Liberian neighbors during these difficult days. After all, our Liberian neighbors are
themselves dealing with very difficult news from their families back home. As the church, we should show care as we
would for anyone else dealing with illness or death in the family.
As I watch our country’s response to Ebola, I have the
sinking feeling that I’ve seen this movie before. Twenty to twenty-five years ago, our country
was in a panic, not about Ebola, but about AIDS. Since, in this country, most of the first
AIDS victims were gay men – already an unpopular group – AIDS victims specifically
and gay men in general faced vicious prejudice.
People were fired from jobs and, if they rented, were kicked out on the
street by their landlords. People were
attacked on the street. Families cut off
contact with their dying family members.
Doctors refused medical treatment.
Churches and pastors refused to provide pastoral care, preaching that
the disease was punishment from God.
Funeral directors refused to deal with the remains. Dying
of AIDS was bad enough, but dying of AIDS alone was infinitely worse. For AIDS patients and for many gay men at
that time, the answer to their question “won’t you be my neighbor” was, all too
often, a very loud “NO!”
I was a member at Old First during this period, and I got to
see what it looks like when the church does the right thing, when the church’s
answer to Mr. Rogers question is “yes, no matter what.” Our elderly longtime organist/choir director
had retired, and we went through a succession of interim choir directors. One of these was a man named John. He was relatively young – probably early 40’s
– and he was HIV positive, and already painfully thin. He was an incredibly talented organist and
music director, and had played for some large congregations in his day – and
had also played the big Wanamaker organ downtown – but since he had gotten
sick, other churches didn’t want to risk taking him on. Worse, John’s family had cut off contact….and
so during the last year of his life, we at Old First became his family. Old First’s organ and choir loft are up in
the balcony, and as John became weaker, one of the other members of the bass
section and myself would each put one of his arms over our shoulder and walk
him up the stairs. Lent came, and John
grew weaker still, but he continued to direct our choir and taught us beautiful
new music. Maundy Thursday came, and
John looked awful, but though he was clearly struggling, he got us through the
service. Easter came, and John led us
through a challenging series of beautiful Easter anthems, ending with the
Hallelujah Chorus, and at the end of the service, John was beaming, and said it
was the most amazing Easter he’d ever experienced. The next Sunday, John didn’t show up – our
pastor played organ that Sunday. Several
choir members went to John’s apartment after service to check in on him, and
found him dead. I believe that, as sick
as he was, John willed himself to get through Easter…we were there for John,
and John willed himself to be there for us.
Our church took care of the arrangements and reached out to John’s
family, and the funeral provided his family with some measure of closure and peace.
Our congregation was able to show love
of neighbor by walking with John through the last days of his life – and as
sick as he was, John showed love for us, faithfully providing beautiful music
for the congregation up to the last days and hours of his life.
For our final hymn, we’ll be singing Martin Luther’s
well-known hymn A Mighty Fortress is our
God – one of the great hymns of the Protestant Reformation. Though I love the music, I struggle a bit
with the imagery – the point of a fortress is to keep enemies out, so that
people inside can be safe. And so God is
indeed a mighty fortress, protecting us from Satan and all Satan’s works. But the hymn does not say “A Mighty Fortress
Is Our Church”. There are things we want
to keep out of the church – sinful attitudes and actions, false worship – but
we want to let people in, to let our neighbors in. Remember the set from Mr. Rogers
neighborhood – sofas, cardigan sweaters, nothing the least bit
intimidating. That’s not coincidental;
Fred Rogers thought long and hard about what would invite children in vs what
would frighten them off, and designed his “neighborhood” accordingly. The church is not called to be a fortress,
but instead is called to be sanctuary – safe space for our neighbors,
especially those in danger, especially those struggling with their lives.
We live in a time in which there are scary and confusing
days in the neighborhood, when it’s easy to become lost or frightened. And yet, Jesus still asks us the question, as
Mr. Rogers phrased it, won’t you be my neighbor? Won’t you be neighbor to the last, the least,
and the lost whom I have called my neighbor, to the hungry, the sick, the
imprisoned? As followers of Jesus, may
we at Emanuel Church always say “yes” to Jesus by being neighbors to those
Jesus sends our way. Amen.
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