Love thy neighbour

I guess when he said it, he knew how hard this would be for us to live up to.

It seems easy, though, doesn’t it?  I mean, if it’s a straight choice between the rigour of the Torah or the apparent simplicity of loving the Big Man and the man next door, I’d choose 2 rules instead of 10 any day.

And there’s always the option to live in a detached house, right at the other end of the street.

Personally, I’m fortunate enough to have some great neighbours; some of whom have graduated, over the years, into friends – sharing our lives and always being there in times of trouble.  These people are easy to love and, by being so nice, are making relatively light work of my own journey towards the kingdom of heaven.

Clearly, though, I wasn’t making it so easy for the woman who used to live next door.

I am not sure whether her resentment had built up over time or whether a particular event had triggered her dislike of us.  It all came to a head though, one summer’s day, when she interrupted our morning coffee on the terrace to ask that we stop tormenting her.

It was at that moment that I noticed that she had scratched the word ‘stop’ (backwards, so that we could read it) onto the window that looked onto our garden.

Clearly, we were bugging her – although, to this day, I am not sure why.  And she underlined this point, a couple of days later, by pouring a tar-like liquid onto our front step; as if to ward off the evil spirits that we represented in her life.

Somewhat perplexed and more than a little concerned, I have to confess to some relief when, a few weeks later, our neighbours suddenly moved away.

We get to choose our friends, but rarely have anything  to say when it comes to who moves into the house next door.

Except in parts of Belgium – where it seems we’re right back to the time of Babel and acting out a war of words.

It’s complicated, I know (it always is), but here’s what I have come to understand.

The Flemish community are reacting angrily to the fact that voting cards have once again been circulated in French and that local non-Dutch-speaking residents are not making sufficient effort to ‘integrate’.   Their solution, announced this week by some Communes, is therefore to begin to filter who can live where.  In short, Flemish families have priority in Flemish communes, all for the sake of ‘integration’.

In an effort to get into the Kingdom of Heaven, I wouldn’t blame anyone for moving into an area where they feel comfortable around their neighbours.  We all do it.

I do worry, however, about a country in which – as someone recently put it – ‘language seems once again to trump common sense’.

There’s a parable out there about a man who lay beaten up and dying in the street.  His so-called friends and fellow countrymen, when it really mattered, would have nothing to do with him.  Instead, he was helped by a man who neither spoke his language, nor shared his beliefs or values.

By using legislation to increase the chances that we’ll like our new neighbours, I fear we might find that we alienate the very people who are there to save us in our time of trouble.

Comments

[Anna]

Hi David - interesting and very true. I think "the eye of a needle" is based on Love Thy Neighbour as the whole idea is the need to love those who are not easy to like, let alone love. The only talk I remember my secondary headmaster giving was a speech to us about intolerance. I like to think I do more than try but I know this is a mountain with many ridges where you think the top is the next one! Anna

[David Willows]

Thanks for the feedback Anna. I like this analogy that you have brought to the conversation of climbing a mountain, where the summit is always just over the next ridge!