The Case for Loving Our Literal Neighbors: Why Proximity Matters

In a world where moral ideals are often universalized, the concept of “loving your neighbor” can lose its practical edge. We say “everyone is my neighbor” and feel that this satisfies the command to love others. But what if that’s actually a loophole—a way to diffuse responsibility so broadly that we never have to act meaningfully? What if the point of the command is not abstraction, but proximity? What if it’s not about loving humanity in general, but about loving the people who share your fence, your street, or your apartment wall?

 

There’s something unsettling about how easily we substitute vague goodwill for concrete action. Loving “everyone” is noble in theory, but impossible in practice. No one can engage deeply with all 8 billion people on the planet. That’s not a moral goal—it’s an escape hatch. By saying everyone is our neighbor, we sometimes give ourselves permission to love no one in particular. We avoid the awkwardness of knocking on a door. We sidestep the effort of learning someone’s story. In this way, the universal becomes a shield against the local.

Or we use the loophole to only loves those that are just like us, look like us, vote like us and cheer for the same time as us. These are also often people that we have minimal interaction with or only interaction that has a benefit for us. And this really isn’t love at all. It is a club.

 

Real love thrives in context. It grows in daily interactions, shared burdens, and small acts of kindness. This is why literal neighbors matter. They are the people placed in our path not by choice, but by circumstance. We may not share interests or values, but we share sidewalks and weather. We are proximate, and therefore bound to one another in a unique way. Loving them isn’t always glamorous—it can mean shoveling snow from a driveway, watching someone’s kids, or simply saying hello. But in these small acts, love becomes real.

 

Proximity creates responsibility. The more physically near someone is, the less plausible our excuses become. We can’t claim ignorance of need when we hear the crying through thin walls. We can’t pretend we didn’t see the moving truck or the broken fence. Our literal neighbors are the ones we’re most equipped to serve—not because they’re more deserving, but because they’re right there.

Perhaps that’s what the command to love your neighbor really means: not to expand our scope so wide that it evaporates into abstraction, but to narrow it down to the people closest to us—those we can actually touch, hear, and help. Proximity isn’t a limitation. It’s an invitation.

Written by David L. Burton

MORE INFORMATION

Take the Engaged Neighbor pledge and become part of a movement! The pledge outlines five categories and 20 principles to guide you toward becoming an engaged neighbor. Sign the pledge at https://nomoregoodneighbors.com. Individuals who take the pledge do get special invitations to future events online and in person. Contact the blog author, David L. Burton via email at dburton541@yahoo.com or burtond@missouri.edu. You can also visit his website at https://engagedneighbor.com.