Fifteenth Sunday In Ordinary Time:

Won’t You Be My Neighbor?

WHO IS MY NEIGHBOR?

Spirit of compassion, help us slow down and see people for who they really are. Not strangers. Not problems. But neighbors—real people with stories, pain, and dreams. Open our hearts to listen, to care, and to show up in ways that bring healing, not harm. Amen.

Think of a time you had an unexpected encounter with a stranger who made you feel uncomfortable. What disturbed you? How did you react?

Scene is shown of daily life in Jangwani, Dar ed Salaam, Tanzania. (Awadh Abdul,, WikiMedia CC)

Being a missionary disciple means expanding your understanding of your neighbor, often by loving and caring for the wounded, vulnerable, and misunderstood—especially migrants and the marginalized. When Fr. Mike Snyder was living in Tanzania, he saw the cost of quick judgment and deep societal frustration. When a young man was falsely accused of theft, a crowd reacted violently without seeking the truth. Fr. Mike stepped in, taking the beaten youth to the hospital, though it was too late to save him. Later, it was discovered the theft never occurred. In another instance, American volunteers in Dar es Salaam witnessed a similar tragedy and were left in shock, struggling to understand the cultural and emotional weight behind such actions. These experiences mirror how migrants today are often scapegoated—labeled as criminals, thieves, or threats—based on fear and misinformation. Missionary discipleship challenges us to avoid quick judgment and reaction, and rather, to stand with the suffering, to seek truth and justice, and to show compassion even when it’s unpopular or misunderstood. 

There was a scholar of the law who stood up to test Jesus and said, “Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus said to him, “What is written in the law? How do you read it?” He said in reply, “You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your being, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.” He replied to him, “You have answered correctly; do this and you will live.”

But because he wished to justify himself, he said to Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” Jesus replied, “A man fell victim to robbers as he went down from Jerusalem to Jericho. They stripped and beat him and went off leaving him half-dead. A priest happened to be going down that road, but when he saw him, he passed by on the opposite side. Likewise a Levite came to the place, and when he saw him, he passed by on the opposite side. But a Samaritan traveler who came upon him was moved with compassion at the sight. He approached the victim, poured oil and wine over his wounds and bandaged them. Then he lifted him up on his own animal, took him to an inn, and cared for him. The next day he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper with the instruction, ‘Take care of him.

If you spend more than what I have given you, I shall repay you on my way back.’ Which of these three, in your opinion, was neighbor to the robbers’ victim?” He answered, “The one who treated him with mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.” Luke 10:25-37

Jesus flips the question. It’s not “Who counts as my neighbor?” It’s “Am I being a neighbor?” In this story, it wasn’t the respected leaders who helped—it was the outsider, the enemy, the one no one expected. Being a neighbor means crossing lines, stopping when others walk past, and caring even when it’s hard. That might mean standing up for someone targeted or checking in on someone who’s struggling. In today’s world—where migrants are blamed, people are judged by headlines, and neighbors are reduced to
“them”—this parable hits home. In response to the scholar of the law, who asks, “Who is my neighbor?” we can respond, the migrant, the refugee, the displaced—those most in need of mercy.

How is the Spirit inviting you to expand your circle of neighbors to an even wider level of inclusivity that includes strangers and perhaps even the enemy?

In 1969, during a time of painful racial division, Mr. Rogers did something simple yet bold on national TV: he invited Officer Clemmons, a Black man, to share a wading pool with him, a white man. Together, they cooled their feet—breaking a barrier without saying a word. What’s one simple thing you could do this week to break a barrier? Maybe it’s inviting someone into your space. Maybe it’s speaking up when you hear prejudice. Think about it—and then do it.

God of mercy, thank you for the moments that open our eyes and stretch our hearts. Help us notice the people we usually overlook and give us the courage to move toward them—not away. Show us how to be neighbors who bring healing, not harm. Give us the grace to turn strangers, and even enemies, into loving neighbors. Amen.