“My neighborhood doesn’t need prayer!”
That is exactly what came to me when I saw the cover of the August 5, 2013, Christian Science Sentinel: “Prayer for our neighborhoods.” I was grateful for my nice, fairly quiet neighborhood with no particular problems. We live on a dead-end street, with only a few houses and one small apartment building. No friendly block parties or get-togethers, but it’s considered a safe and pleasant place to live. Children can play in the streets.
As I ponder this thought of prayer for my surroundings, it dawns on me that there are actually a few things in my neighborhood that could use prayerful attention. Things that have been tucked away, so out of sight and hidden from thought that I actually accepted without question that my neighborhood didn’t need active prayer.
For one thing—that apartment building at the end of the street. A number of years ago it was sold to a nonprofit group that helps people in transition, families that are getting back on their feet after hard times. They come and go, and there doesn’t appear to be a sense of their “belonging.” I’ve noticed that when the children, accompanied by their parents, are waiting for the school bus, the apartment residents are on one side of the street and the homeowners on the other.
To be totally honest, I see now that I was accepting the thought that it would be better if this group didn’t live on our street. While it’s certainly a positive thing to help people get back on their feet, I admit I had a sort of “not in my neighborhood” mentality. And when I think about it, I remember that through the years there has occasionally been police activity there. At those times, haven’t I been speculating about what the police were there for—drugs, rowdiness, illegal doings? Wasn’t I subtly affirming “low life” behavior? I realize that there’s a great need to be alert to the suggestions about this particular property and the people living there—and to acknowledge the spiritual truth that there’s no “us” and “them.” God is infinite, and that means no one can be outside of His allness or the blessings that come with it. This is not a hollow hope—but a heartfelt knowing. I see this as a wonderful opportunity for loving my neighbor as myself! And I anticipate the fruits of this prayer.
I actually accepted without question that my neighborhood didn’t need prayer.
The house around the corner provides another great opportunity for prayer and healing. It’s my nearest neighbor, but because of the way the houses are situated, it faces another street and so I’m not so aware of it—except to know that it’s fallen into a state of disrepair. We aren’t sure just where the owner is, but he’s not in residence and hasn’t been seen for quite some time. The backyard looks like a jungle, which the neighborhood feral cats enjoy (including my own Miss Kitty). So what needs addressing here, what have I been entertaining in thought?
Over time I considered calling the township and reporting this eyesore, but I didn’t. I think in my frustration I was just hoping someone else would call—someone else would just do something! I’ve started to think about my sense of judgmentalism—being critical of my neighbor. I realized I could do something other than “devalue” the neighborhood in terms of my thought. It is turning out to be a continuing theme: I can love my neighbor as myself. I’m seeing the humility in seeing from Love’s viewpoint, and there’s power in that. Will I call the township? I haven’t been led to do so yet. But what I do know is that Love’s viewpoint is beautiful, orderly, and powerful, so I’ll stay with that for now.
How very subtle was the thought that my neighborhood doesn’t need prayer. What the neighborhood needs is a lifting up in thought. Whose thought? Mine. Christ Jesus said, “I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me” (John 12:32). Here Jesus is referring to his crucifixion and the resulting good that it would bring to mankind through his resurrection. That indicates to me that as my thought is lifted up (resurrected) above the testimony of the physical senses to the truth of being, this not only blesses me and my neighbors, but all of mankind.
You might ask, why did I read that article about praying for neighborhoods in the first place? Over a decade ago it came to me to read the Christian Science periodicals straight through when they come to me in the mail, instead of picking and choosing what might immediately appeal to me, or spark my interest. It was the beginning of a whole new way of reading—to go beyond what obviously and instantly matches up with what might be of particular interest to me. I have found this most rewarding.
And now I see the need to pray in the same way, to be alert to what needs facing down—and replace it with the acknowledgment of God’s presence, right here, right now. Nothing can enter thought (and therefore the neighborhood) “that defileth … or maketh a lie” (Revelation 21:27). I can be faithful in standing “porter at the door of thought” (Mary Baker Eddy, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, p. 392) to look out on my neighborhood and see only as God sees.
This is holy work, and it’s work that I can do.
