Who is My Neighbor?

Winter has arrived in Ukraine, along with icy sidewalks and roads.  I’ve had a couple of experiences that have made me smile, but have also made me consider the question posed by the Savior “Who is Thy Neighbor?” 

On our way home from shopping, we drove onto a road that had an uphill slant (not super steep).  We were at the end of a fairly long line of cars.  Nothing was moving. We waited for nearly half an hour and our driver was calm and unquestioning about the wait.  I poked my head out of the car to see what was holding up the line, only to see that front car was unable to make it up the slippery hill.  Wheels were spinning and snow was flying.  The poor driver finally solved his own problem and the line was able to move.  I was dumbfounded!  Had even a couple of people left their cars and pushed, we would have all been on our way in no time at all.  Instead, everyone just patiently waited.  Our driver said, “It happens in the winter.”  There is was again – “It happens.”  While I think that is a great attitude when there is nothing that can be done to change the situation, it certainly seems odd to me to take that attitude and do nothing when something can be fixed or helped.

Two days later, I was waiting on the street outside of our apartment building for someone who was coming to see Howard.  He was having a hard time finding our address, and because I knew that even when he found the building, he wouldn’t know which of the many entrances led to our apartment, I went down to direct him, telling him that I was not wearing a coat (an unusual sight during this time of year), but that I was wearing a grey sweat shirt.  While I was waiting, a car was spinning its wheels, stuck in the snow between the sidewalk and the road.  Without a second thought and without being asked, I planted my feet in the slushy snow and pushed the front of the car with all my might as it slowly backed out of the slippery mush.  The visitor arrived while I was doing this and recognizing that I must be Howard Biddulph’s wife (an American woman in her 60s in a sweat shirt), he said (without helping), “Why are you doing that?” “Because he needs help,” I replied.  “I don’t care about that guy,” said he.  “Well, I do!” said I very emphatically.  (BTW, I wonder what that driver thought)!  

Why did I care about that guy and others seemingly didn’t?  I suppose that it is partially cultural.  It has been only twenty-five years that Ukraine shook off its communist overlords and became an independent nation. During communist years, Ukrainians, and I assume those in other communist ruled countries, were not only discouraged from helping one another but were actually prohibited from becoming involved in welfare service activities.  That was the domain of the state. Even religious organizations, when tolerated, were only to administer religious sacraments and no more.  I imagine that people helped those in their own families, but it did not go beyond that.  It takes a long time to change a perception of what one’s obligation is to those around him/her, especially if someone or something else (the government) is perceived as responsible for the relief of suffering.  Howard tells stories of how his missionaries undertook service projects, such as cleaning up the filthy hallways inside, and the courtyards outside, their apartment buildings to the absolute amazement and disbelief of those observing their service.

I have also observed the lack of communication or even acknowledgment as people pass one another on the street.  I most often pass people with a smile and a greeting.  I NEVER get a smile in return, just a stare and a quick looking away like I am some kind of crazy person. One time, when I held a gaze with a smile, the woman finally asked me what was wrong.  This contrasts starkly with a beautiful story we received about one man’s introduction to missionaries of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  He wrote, “I went for a walk in the park the next morning.  It was summer.  I was walking along the river pondering over my life problems and my religious search.  Deep in my thoughts I noticed two young men dressed in white shirts and ties, they were still far away. I thought those were students and wanted to continue in my pondering, but there was something special about them that had caught my attention.  I didn’t quite understand it at once therefore I took a closer look at them.  Then I saw the reason of my interest—their faces were shining with happiness and joy.  I felt it!  I wanted them to be my friends so much! I wanted them to share with me the secret of that joy.”

Also contrasting are the ways in which active members of the church treat and help one another.  They are being changed by the gospel. They greet the ones they know like beloved family members.  They have welcomed refugees from Donetsk with love and critically needed assistance.  I watch each week as several members take turns signing for a deaf and mute sister.  This attitude towards others was not always so, and it is something learned after joining the church.  Howard tells me how one branch learned to love and help one another after a sister’s apartment burned.  They housed her while they rebuilt the inside of her apartment.  He tells another story about a branch that bought an accordion for a blind musically talented brother so he could support himself.  These acts of kindness were encouraged and taught by Priesthood leaders, and I marvel today at the difference I observe between Ukrainian Latter-day Saints and the other people I meet daily.  How the gospel changes lives!  And how everyone needs the gospel to be happy! The active Latter-day Saints that I know smile and show in their faces and actions the joy that good man saw in the faces of the missionaries so long ago.

So, who really are my neighbors?  Well, it is easy to be kind and neighborly to those we know.  When we know them, we love them and we naturally reach out.  But how successful are we in reaching out to those we don’t know?  How about those who serve us as we visit stores or other public places?  How about those we pass on the street?  How about those with whom we share public transportation?  How about those who once attended church with us but are no longer seen there?  How about those for whom we have been assigned to visit as visiting or home teachers, but who are hard to reach or who don’t seem especially glad to see us?  I believe that the Savior would tell us that yes, these are our neighbors.  He would plead with us to show kindness and compassion to all those with whom we come in contact.  He would especially ask us to seek after His lost sheep and bring them back to the fold – back into the love we feel in the presence of good friends – back into the joyful presence of our Savior.  I love our good bishop who is seeking to teach our ward members this important lesson in compassion.

Why did I care about that guy?  It’s because over the many years of making covenants with my Heavenly Father, the Lord has helped me to see his children, not just as my neighbors, but as my brothers and sisters.