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Won’t You Be My Neighbor?
Halloween is maybe the last bastion of true neighboring in suburban America. It’s a shame that the liturgical story it tells is largely one of glorifying horror. Yet, like those buckets of trick or treating treasures, it’s a mixed bag. There’s something going on in the dynamics of Halloween that is truly worth celebrating. People come out of their houses. They walk and talk. Their kids run around together, laughing. Driveway fire pits transform into tables of welcome, where weary parents, laden with discarded costumes and strollers, can linger and get warm. Some misguided folks use the opportunity to hand out Nutrigrain bars or gospel tracts instead of candy. (These are the houses the kids know in their wisdom to avoid.) But there’s no doubt about it: this celebration of death somehow brings the neighborhood back to life.
I was talking with a friend and fellow pastor who serves in Louisville about their vision and mission statement language this week. There was a lot of talk about doing things for others in there, which is a good thing. But I suggested that maybe it’s it was too broad. C.S. Lewis has his senior devil Screwtape give advice to keep his patient’s mind on "others" in the abstract. He should have him focused on others “out there” so that he ignores the others he can actually love in the everyday. That’s why the Bible talks, not just about others, but about neighbors.
I was thrilled the other day to walk in on my wife watching old episodes of Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood. She said she’s been thinking lately about how formative the old pastor’s public television show had shaped her as a child. I’m grateful to have shared that formative experience. I didn’t know at the time that the nice man in comfy sneakers and a snazzy sweater unashamedly viewed what he was doing as ministry. Reverend Fred Rogers was indeed a passionate and outspoken advocate for “making goodness attractive again.” He did this in the everyday by dwelling richly with his neighbors, whom he defined as “those whose lives move near our own.” Then he would often quote Jesus’ command to love these neighbors, the specific others, as ourselves.
That’s what we’re talking about this Sunday: how what James calls “the law of freedom” compels us to creatively use every opportunity to make goodness attractive to our neighbors again. Join us!
By St. Patrick Presbyterian Church, EPC5
33 ratings
Won’t You Be My Neighbor?
Halloween is maybe the last bastion of true neighboring in suburban America. It’s a shame that the liturgical story it tells is largely one of glorifying horror. Yet, like those buckets of trick or treating treasures, it’s a mixed bag. There’s something going on in the dynamics of Halloween that is truly worth celebrating. People come out of their houses. They walk and talk. Their kids run around together, laughing. Driveway fire pits transform into tables of welcome, where weary parents, laden with discarded costumes and strollers, can linger and get warm. Some misguided folks use the opportunity to hand out Nutrigrain bars or gospel tracts instead of candy. (These are the houses the kids know in their wisdom to avoid.) But there’s no doubt about it: this celebration of death somehow brings the neighborhood back to life.
I was talking with a friend and fellow pastor who serves in Louisville about their vision and mission statement language this week. There was a lot of talk about doing things for others in there, which is a good thing. But I suggested that maybe it’s it was too broad. C.S. Lewis has his senior devil Screwtape give advice to keep his patient’s mind on "others" in the abstract. He should have him focused on others “out there” so that he ignores the others he can actually love in the everyday. That’s why the Bible talks, not just about others, but about neighbors.
I was thrilled the other day to walk in on my wife watching old episodes of Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood. She said she’s been thinking lately about how formative the old pastor’s public television show had shaped her as a child. I’m grateful to have shared that formative experience. I didn’t know at the time that the nice man in comfy sneakers and a snazzy sweater unashamedly viewed what he was doing as ministry. Reverend Fred Rogers was indeed a passionate and outspoken advocate for “making goodness attractive again.” He did this in the everyday by dwelling richly with his neighbors, whom he defined as “those whose lives move near our own.” Then he would often quote Jesus’ command to love these neighbors, the specific others, as ourselves.
That’s what we’re talking about this Sunday: how what James calls “the law of freedom” compels us to creatively use every opportunity to make goodness attractive to our neighbors again. Join us!

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