After many memorable years in Curitiba, Brazil, our Casa da Videira community (meaning “House of the Vine”) decided it was time to “follow the cloud,” like the Israelites in the Book of Exodus. This was a moment when we felt called to move forward in faith, trusting in God’s direction. Eventually, the cloud led us to Portugal.

In this new setting, we concluded that the fruits of our shared life must extend beyond our internal circle to become a blessing to others. We began to ask what form a community of followers of Jesus should take to embody the good news today, in this place. How can we be a community in the context of the multifaceted crises of the twenty-first century? Anchored by Jesus’ instruction to love our neighbors, we realized that before love can be manifested, the first step is to truly become a neighbor.

Without proximity, love remains an abstract ideal, disconnected from real-world challenges, shared work, and genuine relationships. True love is expressed through committed attitudes and practices directed toward the well-being of others. It is better expressed through verbs: to care, feed, heal, teach, share, restore, accompany, support, visit, dress, and shelter.

Claudio Oliver and some friends in the community’s garden. Image courtesy of Claudio Oliver.

Love also involves acts that span generations, leaving a generous and enduring legacy: planting trees, restoring rivers and soil, building lasting structures, researching, writing, cultivating traditions, and working for the common good. If we leave resources and opportunities for descendants we may never know, we also embody love.

Proximity requires careful attention. As Simone Weil said, “Attention, taken to its highest degree, is the same thing as prayer. It presupposes faith and love.” In today’s world, attention is perhaps the scarcest resource of all. The “attention economy” thrives on scarcity in an era dominated by social media, virtual realities, and ubiquitous screens.

The flood of information and images we encounter daily creates an overwhelming surplus. As with any excess, this fosters a paradoxical sense of scarcity, leading to the overconsumption of shallow content, further dispersed via impulsive shares. These patterns of attention resemble a barely nourishing ration served in a crowded prison.

Such conditions have devastating effects. Homogeneous social bubbles emerge, fostering harmful behaviors. Silos of fake news transform vibrant communities of people into individuals who re-form into amorphous masses, susceptible to manipulation and destructive action.

This misallocation of time and energy prevents the pursuit of concrete, material contributions to the world – contributions that could transform shallow living into abundant life.

Slowly, we are learning to combat the epidemic of inattentiveness using the most effective and simple tool available: paying attention to the people around us. This means listening deeply and acting purposefully on what we hear. When we pay attention with our whole being, we create space for the other. But how?

First, we cannot compare ourselves to others. Comparison centers on us rather than the community we serve. Instead, in our group we choose two other attitudes: admiration and willingness to learn others’ rhythms, culture, food, and ways of life. As newcomers, we must take care not to step on the flowers planted by those who came before us.

We must also recognize that we are not bearers of God – he has been present in this place long before us. Our role is not to announce his presence but to discern and follow the signs and paths he has already prepared.

When we first arrived in Portugal, we knew none of our neighbors, and we weren’t sure how to connect with new people in a different culture. Having left behind fifty years of networks and connections that provided me with a clear way to navigate life, I was filled with more doubts than certainties.

We had to start somewhere, so we began by transforming our small, bare backyard into an urban garden using pallets, buckets, and flower pots to create raised beds. Soon we had cabbages, tomatoes, strawberries, and beans.

I was disassembling pallets one day when a young neighbor stopped to comment, “Good morning! What you’re doing here is really five stars!” That moment was a turning point, encountering a “daughter of peace” who welcomed us into the neighborhood.

We worked to create natural composting with our household organic waste, and soon neighbors noticed how the compost nourished the plants, aided by three chickens that contributed to the cycle of renewal. This small downtown ecosystem turned waste into food and eventually drew people’s attention.

The next step was serving. Serving requires arriving without a predefined plan and paying attention to the questions being asked. One opportunity came when a local school with some unused land asked if we could help establish a “regenerative garden.” Together, we created a group called “Friends of the Garden,” focusing on three types of harvests: friendship, food, and imagination. Neighbors introduced their own friends, so the group grew organically. We were redefining the concept of a “community garden” into “gardening in community,” an act of service rather than ownership.

These efforts drew the attention of local authorities, who invited us to spearhead a municipal composting program. Through classes and courses, we met new people and families, strengthening bonds in the city. Our work began gaining recognition, leading to an invitation to write articles about the three harvests and the support movement.

Instead of forming a new organization, we chose to support a local one undergoing restructuring – a group with a longstanding history of love and service. We prioritized collaboration over leadership, creating opportunities like a sewing group that addresses issues of fast fashion, consumerism, and waste by repurposing existing materials into simple, modest clothing.

Now we have many more neighbors to invite to our table. Over meals, they expressed a similar sentiment: “I’ve been here for over five years, and this is the first time I’ve been invited to share a table.” This reminded us of a simple truth: when we experience abundance, we should not build higher walls but larger tables.

At one such table, a friend from the sewing group voiced concern about an area of the city threatened by gentrification and ecological degradation. Inspired by her passion, we are now organizing a group to try to transform it into a space dedicated to an intergenerational “learning community.”

The Bible says in Matthew 6:21, “Wherever your treasure is, there the desires of your heart will also be.” If you want to know what someone loves, simply observe what captures their attention. Our neighbors are here; they pass in front of us every day. We only need to pay attention and see them as the ones the Lord asks us to get closer to, become friends with, and love.