And who is my neighbor?

“Your lives aren’t small, but you’re living them in a small way” (II Corinthians 6:12, Eugene H. Peterson, “The Message”). While this arresting Bible paraphrase was addressed to a group of first-century Christians, it could just as easily speak to the tribalism that dominates today’s news cycles and community conversations.

Are we drawing smaller and smaller circles around our neighbors, seeing them only as those who fit within our interests, politics, demographics, or nationalities? Without challenging this smallness, we’ll minimize the impact of our prayers.

In Christian Science, prayer opens us up to the infinitude of God and God’s all-inclusive goodness as the spiritual reality we can experience here and now. Prayer isn’t, however, about asking the Divine to fix human problems. It’s about humbly and wholeheartedly acknowledging the magnitude of what God is and does as unchanging Love and eternal Life, as boundless Spirit and immeasurable Mind.

As we let inspiration infuse our prayers, we begin to realize that whatever seems to constrain us – whether it’s pain, illness, inability, lack, or vulnerability – cannot and does not exist within the omnipotence and omnipresence of God. It must yield. And healing is the natural outcome.

But we can’t just pray for ourselves or about our own problems. That’s too small. The discoverer of Christian Science, Mary Baker Eddy, writes that “the test of all prayer” (all prayer!) involves loving our neighbor better and letting go of selfishness (“Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures,” p. 9).

If we’re consenting to a world divided into “us” and “them,” our prayers fall short. Our desire to see a solution for anything we’re facing must also acknowledge that the spiritual truths that free us apply to all, even those whose views differ from ours. Do we love our neighbors enough to see their true nature as pure and good, loved and safe?

The vastness of human need requires more than what the best human efforts can offer. But the limitless power of the Christ, seen in the timeless ministry of Jesus, offers the healing, restoration, and redemption so critical to the world today.

Jesus taught us to challenge the narrow scope of our own outlook. When questioned, “And who is my neighbour?” he responded with the parable of the good Samaritan (see Luke 10:25-37). In it, he reframes the question from a small sense of “Who are we obligated to help?” to an expansive approach of “Who is being a neighbor to anyone in need?” In other words, how big is our circle? Does it reflect God’s inclusive love for all?

This was a profound shift in perspective, given that Samaritans were definitely in the “them” camp and not the “us” of Jesus’ immediate audience. But in the parable, the Samaritan’s compassion and care for the helpless traveler of another tribe illustrated the activity of the Christ – our innate godliness, which takes us beyond mere human kindness to glimpse more of the infinite scope of divine Love.

This is the spiritual love that is so needed on the roads we’re traveling, whether literally on our way to work, or more figuratively as we read the news. Are we allowing our true, spiritual nature to animate our lives as we think about others? Are we seeing godliness as the true animator of others? It’s this divine power that binds up the divisions between “us” and “them,” offering practical, healing answers.

This played out for me when I was walking our dog one cold winter morning. I’d been praying with a deep sense of God’s all-embracing ever-presence when two stray dogs came toward me. I quickly scooped up my pup, holding him as high as I could above the large, aggressive stray jumping against me while the smaller one ran between my legs.

No one was out in this unfamiliar neighborhood. When a couple in a car slowed then simply drove on, I felt a bit like the traveler in the parable. But I renewed my prayer, affirming that God was there as Love, encircling us all.

Then, from several houses away, a man in shorts and bare feet came running. I asked if these were his dogs. No. He had simply seen that I needed help. Without putting on shoes or warm clothes, he’d rushed to my aid. He calmly pulled the two dogs off me and held them until we were out of sight.

What a genuine expression of the Christ from this stranger! Something spiritual had brought him to his window to see my need, impelled him to be part of something larger than his own plans for the morning, and animated a generosity that helped me. In that moment, we both experienced what it’s like to be part of the immeasurably wide circle of God’s love.

As we keep our prayers large and inclusive, we’ll see more of the divine nature in one another – around the corner and across the world.

Adapted from an editorial published in the March 11, 2024, issue of the Christian Science Sentinel.