It wasn’t too long ago that I was jogging along one of my favorite trails when my solitude was interrupted by a phone call from a number I didn’t recognize. Against my better judgment, and because I needed a breather, I answered the call.

It was my neighbor. He was friendly but not happy. He comes from a culture that doesn’t have dogs for pets. Apparently, mine had wandered into their yard. I assured him that my 15 pound Aussie doodle was harmless, but I also told him I would do better at making sure that Rio didn’t wander. I debated whether or not to suggest that mowing a little more often would benefit the aesthetic of the cul de sac, but I kept it to myself. 

One day a man approached Jesus and asked him his thoughts regarding the greatest commandment. Jesus, in a typical first century Jewish fashion, responded with a question. “What does the law say? How do you read it?”

Paraphrased, the lawyer responded “Love God and love neighbor.” Jesus agreed. But the lawyer asked a follow up question. “Who is my neighbor?” This time, Jesus chose to answer. And he did so through the parable of the Good Samaritan. 

Most of us know the parable, but if not it can be found here. Jesus tells the story of a man, walking on the Jericho road who was beaten and left for dead. On two occasions, individuals associated with the priesthood, probably Sadducees, passed him by without offering aid.

Why would they do such a thing? Maybe they didn’t want to help, but it’s also possible they withheld aid because God’s law told them to. Leviticus 21 forbids priests from defiling themselves with a dead or dying body in order to remain ritually pure. A literal reading of the text would demand these priests leave the man to die.

The Pharisees, however, had a more pragmatic interpretation of the law. They developed an idea called Pikuach Nefesh. The fundamental principle is that saving a human life supersedes all other religious laws or commandments. It’s probable that the Pharisees were waiting for Jesus to have one of them show up and save the day.

Jesus would have agreed with the Pharisaic interpretation of the commandments, but he shocked everyone by making a Samaritan the hero of the story.

He’s an unlikely hero. Jews and Samaritans were not on good terms in Jesus’ day. Their communities were filled with distrust and hostility.

So why would Jesus make an enemy the hero of the story? To answer that we must remember the question. Jesus did not primarily tell this story to remind us that treating others well or those in dire circumstances is more important than following the law. Jesus told the parable to answer the question “Who is my neighbor?” The neighbor is not the man in need, it’s the Samaritan.

Jesus was teaching the lawyer that his definition of neighbor was too narrow, For Jesus, neighbors stretch to include enemies. Who is my neighbor? As a follower of Jesus — everyone.

I was thinking about that the other day as the same neighbor waved me over to show me some dog poop that had been left in his hay field (I mean yard). Shortly into the conversation I became aware that he expected me to pick it up. Three things quickly came to my mind. First, turn your Marine Corps language off. Stat! Second, should I explain to him that these “bombs” in his yard could not have come from a 15 pound dog? Third, he is my neighbor. I took care of it. 

The other night I heard laughter coming from my neighbor’s driveway. An extended family cricket match was happening. I asked if I could join. They smiled big and welcomed me. After a lengthy speech about how my knee would hinder what I am sure would have been an amazing performance, we played and we laughed.

During the match, grandpa, whose name I am sure I’m not able to pronounce yet, spoke to me for the first time in the eight years he’s lived there. “How is your leg?” he said in his broken English. They still don’t like my dog, but we are taking baby steps toward becoming neighbors.

I’m becoming more and more disenchanted with my own unneighborliness. Being a neighbor, even to our enemies, is part of the upside down reality of the kingdom of God. In a world that is more and more siloed and isolated, I too have retreated into the safety of the likeminded.

I wonder, however, if God is calling me to reach out not only across invisible dog fences but across party, religious, and ideological lines that we have created to draw others in close? It sounds a little miserable. It would be so much easier to just quickly close the garage door and mind my own business.

Yet in this world, the question the lawyer posed to Jesus echoes in my ears, “Who is my neighbor?”