The Closest Neighbor

God's Economy Begins Nearby

If a household is too small for a whole lamb, it shall join its closest neighbor in obtaining one.

Whenever you hear a word from my mouth, you shall give them warning from me.

— Exodus 12; Ezekiel 33

There is something wonderfully economical about God's instructions to Israel before the Passover.

If your household is too small for a whole lamb, join with your closest neighbor.

That's it.

No agency needs to be established. Nobody needs to drive across town. The solution to the need is standing next door.

There was a time when borrowing a cup of sugar or some salt from a neighbor was perfectly ordinary. Stores weren't always open, convenience stores weren't everywhere, and sometimes your neighbors were simply what you had. Today, knocking unexpectedly on somebody's door to ask for salt might seem almost intrusive.

Perhaps we've gained convenience while losing something else.

Ezekiel gives us the other side of neighborliness. The watchman isn't merely responsible for helping people around him. When he hears a warning from God, he has to speak.

That's considerably more uncomfortable.

Most of us would rather lend the salt.

But perhaps the two belong together. If I regularly care about my neighbor, notice when something is wrong, offer help, learn the names of his children and show some interest in his life, then someday there may be enough trust between us for a difficult conversation.

The order matters.

We aren't instructed to warn people continually until they finally agree with us. But neither are we permitted to love and serve them only once.

I've been thinking about this in terms of family too. People can be suffering terribly while siblings or cousins living perfectly comfortable lives don't even know it. Sometimes we haven't spoken in years. Sometimes nothing dramatic happened. We simply drifted apart.

But we're still family.

Pastor Maggie Culver made a related point Sunday at 2|42 Church. Christians are bound together by the Holy Spirit. Someone can leave our congregation, join another church, move away or become involved in a disagreement, but our spiritual connection isn't simply erased.

That sounds a lot like family to me.

You can become estranged from your brother, but he remains your brother. You can lose touch with a cousin, but your histories still begin in some of the same places. Separation changes the relationship; it doesn't rewrite its origins.

Perhaps God's economy begins by taking those connections more seriously.

Before asking what government should do about every human need, I can ask whether somebody near me needs something I can provide. Before lamenting the decline of faith in society, I can ask whether I've ever spoken naturally about God with the people who already know me.

Care for them.

Talk to them.

Know them well enough to notice.

We need churches, charities, governments and institutions. There are problems far too large for the people living on one street to solve by themselves. But perhaps some of those institutions have become enormous partly because we've forgotten how much can happen before an institution ever becomes necessary.

God's plan in these two readings is remarkably uncomplicated.

Take care of one another. Tell one another the truth. And begin with the people already nearby.

Your closest neighbor is a pretty good place to start.

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