‘Won’t you be my neighbor?’
Nancy Kennedy
Lately, I’ve been noticing how often the word “neighbor” shows up in unexpected places.
Several local nonprofit organizations refer to the people they serve as neighbors. People in Minnesota protesting ICE presence say they’re doing it for their neighbors — many they’ve never even met.
With so much upheaval in our nation, this “neighborliness” makes me feel hopeful. It feels like a quiet rebellion against the tide of cruelty and inhumanity.
It has also made me reconsider the age-old question: Who is my neighbor?
A religious scholar once asked Jesus that. He was testing Him about the two greatest commandments: Love God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself.
Looking for a loophole, the man asked, “Who exactly is my neighbor?”
Jesus answered with a story about a man who was beaten and robbed and left for dead. Bleeding, broken, alone — not even the religious leaders who passed by him stopped to help.
Jesus said they went out of their way not to pass near him.
But a Samaritan — someone Jews despised — stopped. He treated the man’s wounds, paid for his lodging and made sure he was cared for.
Jesus was making the point that being a neighbor means showing mercy, not contempt or indifference. It means loving without checking first to see if someone “qualifies.”
Spoiler alert: Jesus has never been a fan of loopholes.
During this year’s Super Bowl, my favorite commercial was a Rocket Mortgage ad featuring Lady Gaga singing a soft version of Mister Rogers’ “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?”
It followed two teenage girls who had just moved to the same neighborhood. Neither wanted to be there. Neither wanted to meet the other. Then a storm hit. One girl’s dog got loose. The other found it and brought it home.
Small kindness. Big impact.
No lie — Lady Gaga softly singing, “Let’s make the most of this beautiful day, since we’re together we might as well say… won’t you be my neighbor?” broke me.
The tagline said: “America Needs Neighbors Like You.”
My nonprofit friends understand that. They intentionally call the people they serve “neighbors” because that’s what Jesus calls them. It reminds them — and us — that everyone deserves dignity.
That’s what loving your neighbor looks like.
It’s seeing others not as enemies, but as equals. Not as problems, but as people.
“Won’t you be my neighbor?”
Someone asking. Someone saying yes.
It sounds simple. It isn’t always easy.
But lately, I’ve been wondering how often my own life would look different if I took that question seriously — and answered yes a little more often.
Yes to the Holy Spirit nudging me to talk to someone after church instead of rushing to my car.
Yes to inviting my neighbors into my house when they knock on my door.
Yes to listening more and talking less.
What if we all said yes — even just little yeses to start?
Maybe they’d grow into bigger yeses.
It wouldn’t fix everything that’s wrong in the world.
But it might change one conversation. One relationship. One heart at a time.
And maybe that’s how loving our neighbor has always worked.
Contact Nancy Kennedy at 352-564-2927 (leave a message) or email at nkennedy@chronicleonline.com.
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On Sat, Feb 14, 2026 at 8:00 AM Nancy Kennedy <nancyk1024@gmail.com> wrote:
‘Won’t you be my neighbor?’
Nancy Kennedy
Lately, I’ve been noticing how often the word “neighbor” shows up in unexpected places.
Several local nonprofit organizations refer to the people they serve as neighbors. People in Minnesota protesting ICE presence say they’re doing it for their neighbors — many they’ve never even met.
With so much upheaval in our nation, this “neighborliness” makes me feel hopeful. It feels like a quiet rebellion against the tide of cruelty and inhumanity.
It has also made me reconsider the age-old question: Who is my neighbor?
A religious scholar once asked Jesus that. He was testing Him about the two greatest commandments: Love God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself.
Looking for a loophole, the man asked, “Who exactly is my neighbor?”
Jesus answered with a story about a man who was beaten and robbed and left for dead. Bleeding, broken, alone — not even the religious leaders who passed by him stopped to help.
Jesus said they went out of their way not to pass near him.
But a Samaritan — someone Jews despised — stopped. He treated the man’s wounds, paid for his lodging and made sure he was cared for.
Jesus was making the point that being a neighbor means showing mercy, not contempt or indifference. It means loving without checking first to see if someone “qualifies.”
Spoiler alert: Jesus has never been a fan of loopholes.
During this year’s Super Bowl, my favorite commercial was a Rocket Mortgage ad featuring Lady Gaga singing a soft version of Mister Rogers’ “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?”
It followed two teenage girls who had just moved to the same neighborhood. Neither wanted to be there. Neither wanted to meet the other. Then a storm hit. One girl’s dog got loose. The other found it and brought it home.
Small kindness. Big impact.
No lie — Lady Gaga softly singing, “Let’s make the most of this beautiful day, since we’re together we might as well say… won’t you be my neighbor?” broke me.
The tagline said: “America Needs Neighbors Like You.”
My nonprofit friends understand that. They intentionally call the people they serve “neighbors” because that’s what Jesus calls them. It reminds them — and us — that everyone deserves dignity.
That’s what loving your neighbor looks like.
It’s seeing others not as enemies, but as equals. Not as problems, but as people.
“Won’t you be my neighbor?”
Someone asking. Someone saying yes.
It sounds simple. It isn’t always easy.
But lately, I’ve been wondering how often my own life would look different if I took that question seriously — and answered yes a little more often.
Yes to the Holy Spirit nudging me to talk to someone after church instead of rushing to my car.
Yes to inviting my neighbors into my house when they knock on my door.
Yes to listening more and talking less.
What if we all said yes — even just little yeses to start?
Maybe they’d grow into bigger yeses.
It wouldn’t fix everything that’s wrong in the world.
But it might change one conversation. One relationship. One heart at a time.
And maybe that’s how loving our neighbor has always worked.
Contact Nancy Kennedy at 352-564-2927 (leave a message) or email at nkennedy@chronicleonline.com.
