‘Neighbor’ Is a Moral Concept

ELECTIONS ARE UPON us. The electoral choices we make, or do not make, have far-reaching implications both for this country and others, for us and future generations.

Four years ago, I gave up my Indian citizenship and became an American citizen to vote in the U.S. general election in 2020. At that time, it seemed like the most important election in my life — and I wanted to have a say in it. Astonishingly, the stakes for elections this November feel as anxiety-inducing and consequential, if not more, than four years ago.

Such fears notwithstanding, as people of faith we vote from a place of hope, not despair. As Christians in a powerful nation, we have a particular responsibility to vote, not just for ourselves but with sensitivity to the Body of Christ around the world. Voting in democratic systems such as ours models a nonviolent transfer of power. We vote for ourselves and for our neighbors. We vote because elections afford us an opportunity to pursue a just and fair future for our communities and country. Elections can give legislative framework to a full range of our faith commitments; ensure that our public institutions serve the poor rather than exploit them; and shape our country into the multiethnic, multireligious, economically equitable democracy it is intended to be. Our votes can contribute to the transformations we envision.

This election season, all people of faith and good conscience must reflect deeply, organize effectively, and vote diligently to elect competent and compassionate leadership. May we choose our leaders wisely.

November 3

On Loving Neighbors

Deuteronomy 6:1-9; Psalm 119:1-8; Hebrews 9:11-14; Mark 12:28-34

IN MARK'S GOSPEL a scribe asks Jesus, “Which commandment in the law is the greatest?” Jesus quotes from Deuteronomy (6:4-5) and Leviticus (19:18) to highlight the fundamental twofold commands of faith: Love God and love your neighbor. Placed alongside each other, these two suggest that our love of God should engender love for our neighbors, not diminish it. At the 1963 March on Washington, anti-Nazi activist and civil rights leader Rabbi Joachim Prinz said, “Neighbor is not a geographic term. It is a moral concept.” Regardless of where we live or who we live next to, Prinz said, we have a responsibility to ensure that everyone lives in dignity and flourishes. Accordingly, our neighbors are not so much the ones we choose to live next to or who share our social status. Our neighbors are the ones who need us most — the ones despised and oppressed by society. Loving such neighbors is challenging because it often requires some sacrifice of our own comfort and interests. Jesus asks us to love our neighbors as much as we love ourselves. He understands our proclivity to avoid those who need us.

Loving neighbors can be very challenging — especially in our polarized political and social context. Yet we are invited to engage our neighbors constructively in love without necessarily endorsing their worldview or political agenda. The gospel teaches that our love of God should be a catalyst for our love of neighbors, rather than a substitute for it.

November 10

Hope Over Cynicism

1 Kings 17:8-16; Psalm 146; Hebrews 9:24-28; Mark 12:38-44

IMAGINE LIVING IN the throes of an unprecedented recession and having only a few dollars to your name. A total stranger shows up asking for money. You explain your predicament, but he still tries to talk you out of your last pennies. That’s the scene unfolding in Zarephath between the widow and Elijah (1 Kings 17:8-16). The text highlights some reasons for the widow’s extreme poverty — natural calamities have prompted famine, but also incompetent and oppressive leaders have built dehumanizing economic structures. The larger context of the story is that rulers were too busy fighting for power to attend legislatively to the poor. The widow was justified in losing faith in the systems around her. She also had every reason to be suspicious of Elijah. He was a stranger, a foreigner, and he worshipped a different god. First, he asks for water, and then slides in a request for food; then he insists on eating first while promising her a miraculous abundance. She was justified in assuming Elijah was a con artist trying to swindle her out
of the last crumbs available for her and her child.

Desperate as she was, the widow appeared to take some comfort in Elijah’s words, “Do not be afraid” (verse 13). Whether intentional or not, her choice placed hope ahead of cynical determinism. She made calculations toward preserving life and took a step toward hope. The ancient biblical narrative shows that human beings have a propensity to over-consolidate power and property in ways that perpetuate economic and political uncertainty. As Christians, we place our trust in God, not in “princes,” wealth, or weapons that “cannot save” (Psalm 146:3). Yet we do not have the luxury of closing off prophetic possibilities. We never know who may knock at our door.

November 17

Crisis or birth?

Daniel 12:1-3; Psalm 16; Hebrews 10:11-25; Mark 13:1-8

VERY LITTLE OF what is called “Mark’s little apocalypse” (13:1-38) is small in magnitude or impact. Massive and magnificent buildings collapse rapidly. Major calamities such as famines, earthquakes, and wars devastate entire communities. The text resembles scenes in apocalyptic movies such as the 2004 disaster miniseries 10.5 or Roland Emmerich’s The Day After Tomorrow. Writing around 70 C.E., the gospel writer vividly depicts the havoc wreaked by the Roman Empire on Jerusalem and the Jewish temple. It was a time of extreme anxiety and uncertainty. Mark exposes the empire’s capacity and proclivity for unimaginable violence but also warns readers of self-serving individuals who masquerade as messiahs and weaponize anxiety to mislead people. The text exhorts readers to stay alert to the calamities — natural or human-made — on the horizon but not to give into alarm or fall victim to a politics of anxiety.

We too live in a time of economic and political restlessness — both nationally and globally — that is deeply unsettling for many. Mark’s text calls on us to choose leaders who guide with wisdom rather than exploit vulnerability. Crisis and uncertainty are inevitable aspects of human existence, but they also are opportunities to reimagine and rebuild. Crises, when approached constructively, can be birth pangs for engendering new life. It takes faith, spiritual strength, and regular practices of hope to resist the politics of anxiety. Doing so unveils creative possibilities for life together, especially with able and wise leadership at the helm.

November 24

Jesus and Post-Truth

Daniel 7:9-10, 13-14; Psalm 93; Revelation 1:4-8; John 18:33-37

WE LIVE IN an era when too many public officials display a tenuous relationship with the truth. Maybe this has always been the case, but now social media amplifies the lies. Historian Timothy Snyder, author of On Tyranny, warns against accepting lies or normalizing a “post-truth” society. “Post-truth is pre-fascism,” Snyder says. “To abandon facts is to abandon freedom.” The rejection of basic facts invariably undermines a peoples’ ability to defend themselves from the powerful.

In John 18, we meet the Roman governor Pontius Pilate, who has immense and violent power and is not afraid to use it. Pilate is ultimately responsible for signing Jesus’ death warrant to protect the empire’s interests. But before committing time and treasure to put down Jesus’ insurrection, Pilate tries to shift responsibility away from himself and onto Herod Antipas, the Jewish client ruler for Rome of Jesus’ home region of Galilee. Pilate twists and subverts truth for his own ends. Pilate asks if Jesus is “king of the Jews” (verse 33) to implicate him in a sedition charge, which Jesus denies. After repeatedly refusing to hear the truth from Jesus — who says that “Everyone on the side of truth listens to me” — Pilate asks, “What is truth?” In such systems of domination — ancient and modern — truth too often becomes inconvenient. Lies and grossly distorted facts become the standard currency to protect and promote one’s power. Jesus does not equivocate on the truth. For him, to live is to tell the truth.

Truth-telling comes with a cost. In this season of heightened political ambition and high-stakes outcomes, Christians are called to testify to truth. We must interrogate the leaders we elect about what truth they serve. Do they tell the truth even at a personal cost or do they subvert truth to enhance their own powerful interests?