Recently, I went shopping with my daughter. She was looking for a gift for her friend's son. She decided on a book. As we were looking through the books on the shelf, I spotted one of my favorites - "Are You My Mother?" Poor little baby bird separated from its mother, searching and asking every animal it meets, Are you my mother?
Also, as a child growing up in the church, I had learned the story of the Good Samaritan. It had been taught to me in Sunday School. I had heard sermons preached about being a good neighbor, about who is my neighbor, about loving my neighbor as myself.
When I looked at the images of the Central American refugee children, suddenly those two ideas merged in my head. Do they look in the faces of those screaming masses and ask "Are you my neighbor"? Even of those who try to help, but put them in kennels like animals, do they ask "Are you my neighbor"?
What must they think of us? What should we think of ourselves? We literally are their neighbors. And not very good ones. Will we come to their rescue or hurry on by wrapped in our righteousness, blind to their needs because of the brilliance of the Holy Spirit we profess to be filled with?
On an unrelated issue, a friend asked me "What would Jesus do?" And I responded that apparently she did not know new Jesus, He doesn't give a crap about anybody. I don't think I like new Jesus. He seems to think we are nobody's neighbor.