Love your (literal) neighbor

A Reflection for the Memorial of the Queenship of the Blessed Virgin Mary

Find today’s readings here.

Recently my father came to our house to help fix some pipes in the basement. And by “help” I mean he carted a drywall bucket full of tools downstairs to do all the work while I offered him an occasional cup of tea. When he was finished, he hauled the bucket of tools out to the driveway again. I waited for him to return, so I could helpfully offer him another drink. I waited and waited. Finally, I went outside to look for him. The rear door of his van was wide open, tools spread across the floor of the vehicle. His drywall bucket sat on the driveway beside it. But there was no sign of my father. I walked around the house and called his name. No answer. I waited some more and then came to the natural assumption that he had been either raptured or murdered and called his cell phone to find out which one it was. A few moments later, he cheerfully answered the phone. “Oh, I’m across the street looking at the condenser for Jeff’s air conditioning.” 

Jeff is my neighbor. I should have guessed that my father ended up at my neighbor’s. My father has developed a reputation for being a fix-it genius. It has gotten to the point where my neighbors (and my sister’s neighbors!) have begun to seek my father out, running up our driveway when they see him stopping by, or stopping his car as he pulls out onto our quiet street. An electrical engineer by trade, my father also can field neighborly questions about HVAC units, dealing with termites, cleaning mold off of a roof and much more. My father is happy to share his knowledge. He is always willing to stop what he’s doing and take a closer look at whatever needs fixing. He is eager to be of use to others in this way. And they are happy to learn. 

Today’s Gospel reminds us that it is crucial to love our neighbor. Often we are rightly urged to interpret that word widely: Indeed, our neighbor is the migrant struggling to cross the border, the child in Gaza, people everywhere who are unhoused, starving, oppressed, marginalized. People of good will across the globe understand that others who may be geographically or demographically far from ourselves must still be understood to be close to our hearts, especially if they are in great need. 

But I am also grateful for the constant reminder that my father’s actions offer. Through his generosity to those who are closest to him—to my own family, to people who live next door—he reminds me not just to welcome the stranger but to welcome my literal neighbor. His open heart encourages me to be willing to stop and listen, to help, to look at a problem and realize that, even if it can’t be fixed right away, at least we’re not alone. 

Indeed, so much depends on this.