Keep your sheep to yourself

I got some cool stuff for Christmas. One of my favorites is a beat up little book that my parents put in my stocking. It is entitled, “The MENSA Book of Words, Word Games, Puzzles and Oddities.” The MENSA part is simply more evidence that my parents continue to insist that I am gifted and advanced, but I love the crazy torn up book nevertheless.

The first chapter is full of words and their origins (if you have been around the blog for a long time, you know how I love my words). I was paging through it last night and found something cool.

Do you know the origin of the word neighbor? Here’s the deal:

It’s from the Old English neah (near) plus gebur (farm). There is some evidence that the word neight (bleating or braying) is related too – hence anyone within reach of this sound. Now extrapolated, neighbor originally meant nearby farm, or anyone who could hear the noises of.

Right away, I thought of Love your neighbor as yourself. I have an old friend, named Stephen, who is now in Angola (I know, I know – check google maps for where it is). We used to serve in a church together and he preached a sermon once entitled, “Who Is My Neighbor?” I remember it well, and I loved the question, because depending on how we define neighbor, we can pick and choose who we love. Selective grace.

According to my tattered little Christmas gift, I am commanded to love people at nearby farms. Depending on where you live, this understanding may make things very easy for you. I’m relatively near Amish country, so I’m screwed.

Yet I see something else here too. Love your neighbor, Wendy. Love everyone who can hear your sounds.

I think of all the talking I do. Some of it is intended to communicate with someone else, and some of it is overheard by those around me – even when I am unaware (like the one-sided cell phone conversations). Strangers hear it. My children hear it. It becomes an interesting idea to love my neighbor – to love everyone who can hear my sounds.

Of course, I believe that everyone is my neighbor, but today I will intentionally love people within my sounds – those within earshot. I will make my noise full of life and joy and encouragement.

And, perhaps, I will resist making sounds, too, if that means love.