A pastor explained how the Good Samaritan was
merciful. Mercy, he pointed out, is inconveniencing ourselves for others,
choosing adversity to lighten another’s load. The Good Samaritan sacrificed his
own personal comfort to help the man who was robbed and left for dead.
The Good Samaritan story is prompted by the question, who is
my neighbor. The neighbor it turns out, is a stranger. That means the Good
Samaritan was moved by mercy to dismount his horse, disrupt the trajectory of
his day, attend to the beaten man’s wounds, haul him somewhere then secure
convalescence using his own money—all for someone he didn’t even know.
Naturally, this got me thinking about the environment. I
started caring about environmental issues because I began to see how my consumer
and energy choices impacted others. Earth is a closed system; everything I
consume and discard originates somewhere and ends up somewhere impacting someone,
now and in the future. Neighbor or stranger, human or non, doesn’t matter. To
be merciful means I consider this in my daily life.
For example, I have a gas stove and dryer. I know that fracking, with its horrible environmental
and health ramifications, provides me with natural gas. But I have to cook. So
when I do, I aspire to cook as efficiently as possible using my oven and
stovetop for several things at once. As for the gas dryer, I only use it for pillows
and comforters. Otherwise I line dry. All of this takes patience and planning,
neither of which I’m good at. Some days it’s a tedious time suck; I have three kids. But what is the alternative? To sentence people who live in
areas where fracking takes place to more chemical exposure and ruined water
supplies because it’s sometimes boring to hang laundry or too hard to
plan ahead?
It’s also why I aspire to buy organic, local and
seasonal food. Not only are the chemicals used in corporate farming toxic to me
and mine, what about migrant farm workers
who are exposed all day every day? You think they’re covered by BCBS? It’s
financially difficult to buy organic and or support local farmers. But it’s not
as difficult as cancer, developmental and congenital abnormalities and
respiratory illnesses.
On the surface line drying clothes doesn’t seem the same as
binding someone’s wounds. But these are actions I can take; small acts of mercy.
Daily.
I can seek petitions to remind politicians that
they serve people, not chemical, coal or oil companies.
I can pick up plastic and Styrofoam litter so that it doesn’t end up in the stomach of
birds and other critters mistaking it for food.
I can buy used clothing so that I support local charities
and lessen the toxic output of the clothing industry
by at least 5 people.
I can make my own cleaning
products so that I’m not putting toxins into the water we all share.
I can reduce my reliance on paper products because deforestation is disastrous to all species.
The call to mercy cannot be trumped by my addiction to
comfort and convenience. It insists on my involvement, no matter how difficult,
no matter for whom. Mercy is the heart of environmentalism.
It's being neighborly.
It's being neighborly.
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