Love Thy Neighbor

“Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”

Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ this is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” - Matthew 22: 36-40 The recent arrest and formal charges brought against Delegate David Elliot Pritt have stirred up a wave of reactions online, many of them turning immediately toward political point‑scoring. What should be a moment of moral clarity — a simple and unified statement by society that sexual abuse of a child is evil and must never be tolerated — has instead devolved into partisan sniping: “He used to be a Democrat before he switched parties,” or “this is what Republicans do,” or even, “See, he wasn’t gay or trans and he still did this!” I even hear people trashing teachers now, because of his occupation.

I reject all of that. The political bickering that consumes this country has become catastrophic for ordinary people. While citizens argue over party labels, the government remains remarkably united in its indifference to the struggles families face — rising poverty, unaffordable bills, reckless policies that deepen hardship. This level of division is not a natural byproduct of democracy; it is a distraction. And with the national debt soaring, war spreading across the middle east once again, and families slipping further into financial instability, that distraction is working exactly as intended.

And it is in moments like this — when a horrific crime becomes fuel for yet another round of cultural warfare — that I feel the weight of Christ’s commandment: “Love your neighbor.” That’s what Christ said, verbatim. He did not say “love the neighbors who think like you.” He did not say “love the neighbors whose choices make sense to you.” He did not say "love the neighbors who love you." Just love them — fully, sincerely, without conditions. Pray for them, and will for their good.

As a devout Catholic, there are parts of the modern world I struggle with. I do not agree with the principles surrounding the pride movement, but I do not hate or condemn anyone involved in such a movement. I do not believe gender‑affirming care leads people toward the wholeness God desires for them, but I do not hate or condemn anyone who has fallen victim to temptation. These disagreements are not trivial; they touch on deep questions about identity, the human person, and the meaning of the body.

But even with those convictions, there is no escape from Christ’s overarching commandment to love God and then love your neighbor. In fact, these two commandments account for the entirety of the Ten Commandments. His words force me to confront something that is raw in its truth: that my neighbor is not an ideology. That my neighbor is not a movement. That my neighbor is not a headline. Indeed, my neighbor is a person — someone with fears, hopes, wounds, and a story I don’t fully know. Someone Christ died for. Someone made in the image and likeness of God, even if I believe they’re walking a path that leads away from Him. I would know all about that, as I spent years walking a path that led me as far away form Christ as you can get, and yet here I am. He welcomes everyone back to the table if they keep their hearts open.

So I find myself living with the challenge that defines discipleship today: holding firm to what the Church teaches while refusing to let disagreement harden into contempt or hatred. I can reject an idea without rejecting a soul. I can embrace a person without embracing their way of life. I can speak truth without losing compassion. I can disagree without dehumanizing. I can see a person before I see a position. And honestly, that is where Christ’s message makes a lot of sense — in the area where conviction and compassion collide. He does not ask me to dilute the faith or for a weak take on my conviction. He does not ask me to pretend all paths are equal. He asks me to love people with such humility and conviction that they encounter Him through my words and actions, even when we disagree. Some days I do this well. Other days I fail.

The witness the world needs from Catholics right now is one where love is authentic and wills for the good of the other, and where one’s spirit is charitable, and where one’s heart refuses to choose between politics and discipleship.

“Lord, help me see every person the way You see them — not as an argument to win, but as a neighbor to love.”

Now let us get back to making sure all of these politicians actually pay the price for their sexual crimes against children. Where is that discussion about the "Epstein List" that we used to have all the time?