jayfurr | Who Is My Neighbor?

You're probably familiar with the parable of the Good Samaritan, regardless of your religious affiliation or lack thereof. Let me paraphrase it for you, though, in case you don't remember the specifics.

An "expert in the law" -- we'll call him Bob -- decided to test Jesus. Bob asked what he had to do in order to gain eternal life.

Jesus said, "Well, Bob, what does the law say?"

Bob replied, in essence, "Well, Jesus, the law says to love the heck out of God, and also, look out for your neighbor in the same way you look out for yourself."

Jesus said "Right. Do that."

Bob decided to take it a step further and asked "Okay, so, who is my neighbor? What exactly do you mean by that? Do you mean Bill and Wendy next door, or in a more general sense?"

Jesus offered up a parable to explain the concept.

"There was this guy, going from Jerusalem to Jericho. He got robbed and beaten up along the way. Muggers left him half-dead in a ditch."

"So, a priest of his faith happened by, and seeing the guy in the ditch, decided 'hmm, best not get involved' and crossed to the other side of the road."

"A Levite -- a respected member of the community -- came by, saw the guy in the ditch, and he crossed to the other side."

"Probably they both thought 'Hey, if this guy got mugged and I go over and help, what's going to happen to me? The muggers might still be around.'"

"Then a guy from the wrong side of the tracks happened by -- a guy who had no connection to the guy in the ditch and who, in fact, probably had familial bad blood with him going back generations. But he looked at the guy in the ditch and rather than thinking 'What's going to happen to me if I try and help him?', thought 'What's going to happen to him if I don't?'"

"So he stopped, and helped the guy up, and put him on his donkey, and took him to an inn, and paid for his lodging, and came back by in a couple of days to see if he was all right."

"Now: which of these men was his neighbor?"

Bob thought, and replied, "The one who showed him mercy."

Jesus agreed. "Right. Now go and do likewise."

Your neighbor isn't necessarily Bob and Wendy next door. Your neighbor is your fellow man in need of your help. God instructs us to love our neighbor as ourselves if we want to gain the kingdom of Heaven.

And if you're not religious, okay, can you grant me that it's worthwhile to remember that the world's a lot better place if we look out for each other? You never know when you might be the one in need. Pay it forward when someone helps you out. A little kindness helps the world go 'round.

I recently got to take part in a symbolic revisiting of this creed at the San Francisco Bay Area Susan G. Komen 3-Day For The Cure -- a sixty mile fundraising walk lasting three days.

Each year the 3-Day starts with elaborate opening ceremonies ... and ends with an veritable panoply of hoopla that leaves the pomp and circumstance of opening ceremonies to shame. One element that's been included in both opening and closing, going back years and years, is the flags -- walkers and crewmembers carrying ceremonial banners reminding us all what we walk for.

There are flags to remind us what a full, happy lifetime should consist of: birthdays, graduations, anniversaries, you name it. Other flagbearers carry banners in memory or in honor of loved ones who've fought breast cancer: my sister, my mother, my husband, my daughter, my friend, my partner -- the list goes on and on. Survivors carry flags reading "Courage" and "Hope" and "Patience" and "Commitment" and so on. All in all, the processions of flags take up maybe ten minutes of the ceremonies at opening and somewhat longer at closing, but the emotional impact is all out of proportion to the time spent. The crowd reaction to the triumphant entrance of the survivors has to be seen to be believed.

Due to just sheer dumb luck and gormless enthusiasm, I've been a flagbearer four times in four years. I carried the "Anniversaries" flag in 2008 in my first-ever 3-Day walk in Washington, DC. I carried the "My Wife" flag in 2009 in the abbreviated-due-to-act-of-God Philadelphia 3-Day. I carried the "Irreplaceable" flag in Boston's opening ceremonies in 2010 and then put my flag down and scurried off to spend the weekend working as crew at Pit Stop 4. Each time I'd been nominated for the honor by someone else or asked directly.

This year I really hadn't thought about carrying a flag -- until I saw the field coordinator for the San Francisco walk asking her training walk leaders (I'm one) for flagbearer nominations since she still had lots of slots to fill. If I'd known anyone else who was walking in San Francisco, I'd have nominated them, but San Francisco was pretty far afield for us; we live in New England. So I wrote and said "Well, not that we're desperate to or anything, but if you're actually short, my wife and I would be happy to help."

Famous last words. Next thing you know my wife was tapped to carry the "My Aunt" flag in honor of her Aunt Debbie, a breast cancer survivor of many years, and I'd been asked to carry ...

... the "My Neighbor" flag.

To the best of my knowledge, none of my neighbors on our little seven-house Vermont dirt road have been afflicted by breast cancer. None of them have volunteered the information, anyway. I could call and ask ... no, that'd be strange.

But I've got several co-workers who're survivors -- and I've spent most of the last three years walking around the office bald as an egg in honor of their battles against cancer and their bouts of chemotherapy. One such survivor occupies the office twenty feet to the left of my doorway. My office neighbor, in other words.

But after being offered the My Neighbor flag, I decided to look at the honor not as a literal acknowledgment of people who live or work near me and their fight against cancer, but in a larger sense... in honor of all the women and men out there who I've crossed paths with, some who are still winning their fight and others who lost.

No one in my immediate family has ever had breast cancer. Even my wife's Aunt Debbie is an aunt by marriage; both our bloodlines have been especially lucky (so far). I have no direct, personal connection to breast cancer. I'm involved in this cause because I want to make my life count for something. So I fundraise and I walk and I try to build awareness. And I thank all of you who do likewise or who have contributed on my behalf.

Why do I try so hard to make a difference?

Because it's the right thing to do. And because, at the end of the day, I didn't want it to be said, "Jay crossed to the other side."