Be the Neighbor

Genuine compassion isn't passive. Sometimes it means risking your own comfort to help someone else regain their footing.

Photo by Elif Taşlı on Pexels

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Lately, I’ve been lamenting the state of the world.

Not because hardship exists—hardship has always existed—but because of how detached and indifferent everything feels.

I scroll through LinkedIn and see profile after profile marked with the green “Open to Work” ring. The number feels staggering. People are losing their jobs because of reorganizations, acquisitions, agency restructuring, and shifting priorities.

These are not statistics.

These are people.

People with families. With bills to pay. With others depending on them. People who gave years—sometimes entire careers—to organizations that thanked them with a pink slip, sometimes right before the holidays.

And I find myself wondering:

What happened to taking care of our neighbor?

A neighbor isn’t just the person who lives next door. A neighbor is anyone whose need crosses your path.

There was a time when seeing someone struggle stirred something inside us. We didn’t just acknowledge their hardship—we stepped into it.

Now, it feels easier to give a thumbs-up. To leave a quick comment. To scroll past.

Why do we do that?

Are we truly too busy to help? Or have we grown used to believing that struggle is simply something everyone must handle on their own?

We all want empathy. And yet, so often, we fail to offer it.

Organizations are made up of people—human beings with lives beyond their job titles.

Without people, there is no productivity, no growth, no bottom line.

And yet, in a world shaped by speed, technology, and efficiency, I wonder if we're losing touch with the softness of the human heart.

Have we become so accustomed to distance that compassion feels inconvenient?

Have we forgotten how to pause long enough to notice someone drowning?

I keep thinking about what it would look like if we did more than acknowledge struggle—if we entered into it.

Not just introductions.

Not just endorsements.

Not a quick “Jane, meet Jack,” followed by silence.

I’m talking about something deeper.

The kind of help that costs something.

The kind that says:

“I know someone who is looking for work. I’ve seen their résumé. I believe in them. Would you take a serious look—for me?”

The kind that means walking down the hall, making a phone call, or sending a message to someone who actually makes hiring decisions.

The kind that risks your reputation a little.

The kind that boldly requests:

“Stick your neck out for me. Give this person a chance.”

Yes, it’s uncomfortable.

Yes, it feels risky.

Yes, it might not always work.

But life itself is a risk.

And I can’t help but wonder if the greater risk is not helping at all—standing by while people in our own networks struggle to stay afloat.

What if we stopped thinking of networking as collecting contacts and started seeing it as carrying responsibility for one another?

What if we looked through our networks and chose one person—just one—and made it our mission to help them find work?

Not casually.

Not symbolically.

But intentionally.

Because sometimes the difference between staying afloat and sinking is one person willing to go out on a limb.

Somewhere along the way, it feels like we stopped being neighbors.

And I’m not sure that’s the kind of world any of us truly wants to live in.

So today, I’m asking myself a simple question: Who in my network needs more than my sympathy—and needs me to go the extra mile?

Maybe today is a good day to stop scrolling and start showing up for someone who needs help finding their footing again.