And who is my neighbour?

In 1988 then-Archbishop Eric D’Arcy brought Renew to Tasmania. This was an invitation for the Church in Tasmania to reflect on its journey. Catholic communities met in small groups to tell their stories and their dreams. Almost 20 years later, I recall some of the pain that some expressed about how difficult it was for them to become members of the local parish and to feel at home with those with whom they worshipped. One lady still felt left out, a ‘foreigner’, after having spent fifty (yes, fifty) years in the parish.

There are still two communities of Samaritans still living in Israel to this very day. Their ancient heritage and religion is a fusion and result of Assyrian and early Israelite intermarriage (some 720 years BC). The Samaritans accepted the Torah (the Pentateuch or first five books of the Bible) as their sacred scriptures. After the refusal by the Jews to accept their assistance to rebuild the Temple at Jerusalem, the Samaritans built their own temple (it was destroyed in 128 BC). The Samaritans would not accept the books of prophets, the Psalms or the history of Israel’s kings, leading the Jews to consider them as foreigners. They were despised for their incompleteness.

In answer to the lawyer’s question: ‘And who is my neighbour?’ Jesus responded with the parable we call ‘The Good Samaritan’.

We live in a global economy. The peas we eat could come from China, our jam from Brazil, our oranges from California, our cotton clothes from India, cars from Korea and Japan, our tomatoes from Italy. The people who provide the necessities for our daily lives are not the neighbours next door, the farmer down the road, or the bootmaker in town, our neighbours truly are international. Yet we are not the same. We cannot compare the Chinese farmer, or the Asian child labourer with our next door neighbour. We share the earth and its economy, but there is no equity.

For all the energy and money we outlay to be more comfortable, we don’t even seem to be able to connect to the people we share offices and workplaces with, let alone a church pew. The invitation from this parable is to prove ourselves neighbours, not merely be neighbours. It is about actively participating and engaging in the world in which I live: my family, my school community, the people who live near me, my church, my town, my state, my country, my world – hungering after justice. And then I can offer generous and gracious hospitality.

Don’t let your neighbours wait 50 years for such an invitation, and don’t be afraid to be different.