溫故知新 Old wisdom, today’s insight — ONGO
Who Is My Neighbor?
Is the neighbor I must love only those near me, or even a stranger fallen by the road?
And who is my neighbor?
A lawyer asked, "Who is my neighbor?" — wanting the range of whom he must love confirmed as narrow. Instead of answering directly, Jesus tells a story: a man beaten by robbers is passed by a priest and a Levite, but only a despised Samaritan stops, binds his wounds, and cares for him. Then he asks back, "Who was neighbor to the man who fell among robbers?" The question is overturned — not "who is my neighbor?" but "whose neighbor do I become?" The question branched. Stoicism already spread a cosmopolitan idea seeing all humans as fellows of one rational community, and Mozi asked for love without distinction. How far do we widen the bounds of the neighbor — blood, nation, or all humankind?
In an age quick to split "us" from "them," the question of how far to widen the neighbor cuts sharper.
This story stings me.
📝I, Too, Stand Before It
This story stings me. Like that lawyer, I too quietly want to narrow the range of love — my family, my friends, those good to me; that far is comfortable. But Jesus overturns the very question "who is my neighbor?" into "whose neighbor will you become?" A neighbor is not someone I define by drawing a line, but someone I become by drawing near. To stop or pass by a stranger fallen on the road — in that moment I become someone's neighbor, or do not. Today, too, I stand at that fork.
✍️Your Answer
The lineage of the ancients ends here. Now it is your turn before the question. There is no right answer — only how you, today, would answer.
🔒 This answer is stored only on your device. It is never sent to a server.
This is not a museum of answers but a lineage of questions. All sources are public-domain texts; the lineage and reflection are 100% original ONGO content.
