The Liberal Twisting of Jesus’ Command to “Love Your Neighbor” (Part 1)

Growing up, much of my childhood was spent in a trailer park, where the cast of neighbors could only be described as...well, eclectic. There was Jim, whose trailer had CB antennas all over it so he could talk with truckers and follow police updates. He tinkered with cars year-round in his driveway and entered demolition derbies as if his life depended on it. Then there was Ron, the guy who was deep into rap music, disappeared into the military, and came back all about white power. I can’t forget Paul, who seemed to have a cigarette in one hand, a beer in the other, and a curse word ready to fly at anyone who rubbed him the wrong way. It was the kind of neighborhood where you were never quite sure if the next conversation would end in laughter or a fistfight. So, when people throw out Jesus’ words to “love your neighbor,” instinctively, I often think back to that wild assortment of characters in my old trailer park. But then I have to stop myself and ask: “Was Jesus telling us that we need to love every single person living next door, no matter who they are?” Not exactly.

When Jesus spoke about “neighbors,” he wasn’t just talking about whoever happens to live next door. His command wasn’t an open-ended call to embrace the whole world with equal fervor. Besides, to say “I love everyone,” while it will score you some virtue signalling points today among the left, is really just the same thing as saying “I love no one.” It’s impossible to love everyone so, let’s stop making such dull and pointless statements. Anyway, as Dr. Dre might put it, back to the lecture at hand: To understand what Jesus meant by “neighbor,” we need to dig deeper into the world of Scripture and the world out of which Jesus spoke—something that’s often ignored in today’s shallow interpretations.

First, it’s crucial to remember that ancient Jewish society was collectivist and largely tribal, which is quite different from our individualistic culture today. Villages were typically made up of people from the same ethnic group, and in larger cities, like Corinth or Ephesus or Rome, different areas were dominated by distinct ethnic or religious communities. Even within Israelite circles (by the way, “Israelite” is a larger umbrella/catch-all term while “Jew” is much more narrow), towns, cities, or villages would be split up by various religious tribes, such as Pharisees, Sadducees, and so on. It reminds me of modern-day San Francisco, where you’ve got neighborhoods like Chinatown or Little Italy, or even today’s ethnic and culture-based churches—Greek Orthodox, Korean Presbyterian, Black Gospel congregations, etc. The point is, in Jesus’ world, your neighbor wasn’t just some random person who moved in next door. That didn’t happen. No, your neighbor was someone from your own ethnic and religious tribe.

Second, this is why, when Jesus issues the command to love your neighbor, he’s drawing directly from Lev 19. It’s often lost on modern readers, but Leviticus is clear about who qualifies as a “neighbor.” In Lev 19:18, we read: “You shall not take vengeance, nor bear any grudge against the sons of your people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself; I am the Lord.” Question: Who are the “sons of your people”? The Israelites, the covenant people of God, are those in view. And later, in Lev 19:34, the text makes a distinction: “The stranger who resides with you shall be to you as the native among you.” So, while strangers were to be treated with kindness, they were not the same as neighbors. Strangers were those outside the covenant community. And this is key to acknowledging and making sense of things as we read thousands of years removed. Enemies, of course, fell even further outside the circle. This distinction between “neighbor” and “stranger” and “enemy” is foundational for understanding Jesus’ command. There is a different level and kind of love for each.

Third, when Jesus speaks about loving your neighbor in Mk 12:28-31, he’s talking to fellow Jews. Location, as always, is key. Jesus is in Israel, in Jewish Jerusalem, in the Jewish temple, during a Jewish holiday, talking to Jews and Jewish leaders. He’s not redefining the term “neighbor” for a 21st-century audience; he’s speaking to an audience who understood “neighbor” in the Levitical sense. Jesus is referring to a fellow member of the covenant community—the people of God, spiritual brothers and sisters. The Israelites of different stripes listening to him, especially “Jews,” would have understood this, because it was their Scripture, their tradition, and their way of life. They knew that “neighbor” didn’t just mean “anyone out there.” It meant a fellow Israelite, someone bound by the same covenant relationship with God.

Some will try to counter this by pointing to the parable of the Good Samaritan. “What about the Samaritan?” they ask. “Wasn’t he considered a neighbor?” Yes, but with an important caveat. The Samaritans were a group of Israelites who had intermarried with other nations and adopted different practices. While they were seen as not fully Jewish, they were still Israelites, still part of the broader covenantal story, even if the relationship was strained. The Samaritan in Jesus’ parable is not an outsider in the way we think of outsiders today. He is a wayward covenant member, not a foreigner or stranger in the fullest sense. Jesus’ choice of a Samaritan wasn’t about broadening the definition of neighbor to include every person on earth; it was about challenging the Jewish exclusivity toward a fellow Israelite group that had been marginalized. Honestly, this point simply cannot be stressed enough so, let me say it again: Jesus’ choice of a Samaritan wasn’t about broadening the definition of neighbor to include every person on earth; it was about challenging the Jewish exclusivity toward a fellow Israelite group that had been marginalized.

So, what’s the point? What does this mean for readers thousands of years on in vastly different locations and contexts? It means that when Jesus commands us to love our neighbor, he’s not talking about everyone in the world indiscriminately. He’s talking about our fellow believers, our brothers and sisters in the faith, those who are part of God’s covenant people. That’s who our “neighbor” is. Of course, we are called to love others outside the faith—there’s no question about that. But the kind of love Jesus is talking about here, the kind of love that prioritizes care and compassion, is directed primarily toward those who share in the covenant of faith.

I once saw a Nazarene pastor wearing a shirt that read, “Love your _____ neighbor,” and then filled in the blank with a long list: LGBT neighbor, Black neighbor, Hispanic neighbor, disabled neighbor, and so on. You get the point: Fill in the blank with every minority group so you can make yourself look good, like a true social justice warrior, and score as many points of the virtue signal as possible. It’s the kind of shirt that’s become popular in liberal theological circles—one that’s designed to show how inclusive and open-minded the wearer is. But it’s also the kind of shirt that fundamentally misunderstands Jesus’ teaching. Jesus wasn’t telling us to flatten the moral landscape and treat every person the same way, regardless of their relationship to the covenant community. He was drawing on a rich tradition of covenantal love—love that prioritizes those who are part of God’s people.

This doesn’t mean we’re not called to love those outside the faith. But it does mean that the deep, sacrificial love Jesus speaks of is primarily directed toward our fellow believers, our fellow covenanters. It’s not just any old person like the cast of characters in my old trailer park. Should I show kindness to people like Jim, Ron, or Paul? Absolutely. But the kind of covenantal love Jesus is talking about is reserved for those within the family of faith, the people of God. And this matters because, in today’s world, this teaching has been twisted to mean something entirely different. People are using it to push a shallow, generic love for all that waters down the rich, deep love Christ calls us to show for our spiritual family.

In part 2, we’ll dive into the second half of this discussion—what Jesus meant by “love.” But for now, let’s hold onto this truth: Jesus wasn’t just telling us to love every person indiscriminately. He was calling us to a deeper, covenantal love for our fellow believers, the people of God. And that is something we desperately need to recapture in our churches today.