Sunday column: “Neighbors”

Today’s column is online here. The second question is from a woman who got conversationally ambushed one night by her neighbor–”My next-door neighbor in my condo building came over and spilled her guts about her husband–cheating on her, being controlling and unkind. She talked for three hours straight”–and is wondering if one night’s conversation puts her on the hook to give yet more help if asked.

It doesn’t, and I pointed out that the neighbor might very well have been wanting to talk to a near-stranger anyway:

Occasionally you want to vent to someone who’s outside your normal social circle, so that gossip doesn’t start or people don’t ask “How are you?” with searching, compassionate eyes every time they see you for the rest of your life. You want a fresh perspective. You want someone who isn’t involved.

But her question does get at one of the difficulties of modern life. The Bible is full of injunctions about how to treat one’s “neighbor,” and whether you’re religious or not, those ideas make sense. We know we’re supposed to help each other, and offer aid and counsel. We know it takes a village.

We know we’re supposed to bring soup to someone when they’re sick. We just don’t know who.

When the Bible was written, and up until the past 100 years, you knew who your “neighbor” was. Your work colleagues, your friends, your extended family, your co-religionists–there was tremendous overlap between those groups, and that was your neighborhood. Nowadays, physical proximity and emotional attachment don’t necessarily go together. Your physical neighbors, whom you could help with chicken soup and lending power tools and babysitting now and then–you might not even know those people’s names. Meanwhile, your cousins and college roommates and other relationships of long emotional standing are scattered around the country. You can send them cards, or post a cartoon you know they’d like on their Facebook wall, or offer support and advice long-distance, but you can’t lend them your nicest party dress or take their dog for the weekend so they can get out of town.

(Oh, I also wrote a piece about long weekends that you might like.)

I don’t know what to do about that. It’s frustrating. I think it’s one of the factors that leads to a sense of social breakdown. Our physical environment doesn’t match up to our emotional reality.