parable

There was a woman who loved children. She loved best the children in her own family: her own children, her nieces and nephews, the children of aunts and uncles, her cousins and their children. Next, she loved the children of her friends: those whom she knew so well they very nearly were family. Less, she loved the children on the other side of the world: the children she had never seen and would never meet, the children who spoke foreign languages and ate strange foods—if they had food at all, the exotic children whose experience and circumstance she could only hope to imagine. Last, she grudgingly loved the children of her neighbors: the juvenile delinquents who played in the streets, the brats who had temper tantrums in the market, the immature offspring who stank of dirt and sweat and childhood, the rug rats who squirmed in church, the adolescents who spoke rude words in loud voices. The woman loved children in this order. The people of God are like this woman. They love best themselves, for they are secure in their own righteousness. Next, they love those who closely resemble themselves, for surely they will be brought into the fold. Less, they love those who do not know God and those who know God in unimaginable ways, for they may be forgiven their folly. Last, they love those who are not same and are not other, for they require acceptance and refuse acquiescence, they remain present and resolutely apart. Thus were the people of God given this mandate: Love your neighbor as you love yourself.