Third
Sunday of Lent: Living within God’s hospitality – the art of contentment
Our
Lenten journey together this year is into hospitality. Let’s review where we
have been so far.
On
Ash Wednesday we heard Jesus speak about prayer and giving and fasting, as
disciplines that enable us to enter-into, and to share or extend, God’s hospitality.
Then, Sunday by Sunday, we have reflected on different keys to hospitality.
On
the First Sunday of Lent we looked at listening, which is, really, the
discipline of prayer.
On
the Second Sunday of Lent we considered ‘reverse hospitality’ – the
experience of being guest, rather than host; and how we might be used by God through
the giving
or offering of ourselves into that position of vulnerability.
Today,
the Third Sunday of Lent, we are looking at contentment: at the
ability to say ‘no’ to the voices that tell us we never have quite enough,
which is exercised by the discipline of fasting.
Listening,
being guests, and contentment. Praying, giving, and fasting. Now, I must
confess that when I planned-out this series, I didn’t tie the Sundays into Ash
Wednesday, but it just so happens that they belong together. Call it a divine
coincidence.
So
today we are looking at living within God’s hospitality, or, the art of
contentment. The timing feels pertinent, as it seems to me that so much of our
public discourse at present is focused on exploiting discontent. Now, of course, being content in all circumstances is not at all the same as being content with all circumstances – Paul, who
claimed to have found the secret of contentment, was a constant agitator for
change on behalf of others – but our fundamental contentment or lack thereof will determine the
nature of the change we want to see, whether it is outward-looking or
self-centred. Better a frugal meal shared with love than the richest feast
consumed with resentment.
This
week I’ve been having lots of conversations with people around the idea of
contentment, and have received much insight and grace from those who have
responded. It would seem that what contentment looks like differs from person
to person – though with common themes – and is often stumbled upon by happy
accident – or at least through indirect effort.
In
other words, one might describe the causes of contentment as a gift, and one tailored
to the recipient…
Certainly,
one ancient Teacher of wisdom thought so, declaring, ‘moreover, it is God’s gift that
all should eat and drink and take pleasure in all their toil’ (Ecclesiastes 3:13).
Paul
writes of having learned to be content with whatever he has – despite all
manner of perils, deprivations, and loss – and considers the lesson to be a
secret. It is a secret he is happy to share, but can’t share in words: the
secret of being content is only uncovered by participating in the secret.
How,
then, might we participate in the secret of being content? Let me suggest that contentment
has various dimensions, and that we might engage with them through hospitable
practices.
Firstly,
contentment has a spiritual dimension. By ‘spiritual’ I mean ‘non-material’.
There is something intangible and
certainly unmeasurable but
nonetheless recognised in many of the
responses I have received this week as to people’s experience of contentment.
And here, the hospitable practice is perhaps simply thankfulness – whether
that thankfulness is directed towards ‘god’ or not.
Next,
contentment has a relational dimension. Meals are important – they are at the
heart of the ancient Teacher’s definition of contentment – not simply as
nutrition for the body but as shared social experience that breaks down walls
and builds bridges. Here, the hospitable practice is eating together, as we
shall do a little later on.
Then,
contentment has a physical dimension. God’s gift is that all should take pleasure
in their toil – even though toil is inevitably hard, and at times frustrating.
It is hard to be content when your experience of work, or workless-ness, is
primarily denigrating. And as contentment is part of God’s social contract for
us – it is his gift that all should
experience it – then it is impossible for me to enter fully into God’s hospitality
while I am aware that others are excluded and do nothing about it. So here, the
hospitable practice might be acts of service, more of us
taking a share in serving refreshments, or being with the children, so that
these things are rewarding for many and do not become burdensome on a few.
Contentment
also has an intellectual dimension. We nurture contentment when we reflect
on those times – whether fleeting moments or familiar seasons – when we have
experienced contentment; on where,
and why, we are content and indeed lacking contentment at the present; and
what adjustments we might need to make. That has been one of the real values of
the intentional
conversations I have had this week, and I’d encourage you to do
likewise. As a place to begin, I want to commend to you our Tuesday evening
conversation group running in parallel with this sermon series. Do come along,
if you are able to – 7.00-8.00pm in the Minster lounge.
And
lastly, contentment has a financial dimension. This is, in fact,
the least important of all: it belongs at the
end of the list – though in public discourse it is always first in the list
– but it is on the list, and rightly so. It is hard to be content when we have
less than we need – and harder still when we have more than we need. The
hospitable practices of this dimension are those that help us to live simply in
order that our neighbour can simply live: sharing resources through lending
and borrowing, rather than duplicating everything; reframing ‘second-hand’ as a
positive choice; paying a fair price to producers. And here I will give a plug
to our monthly Craft & Vintage Fair,
which takes place again next Saturday, as an example of where I think we are
working to get this right, investing in entrepreneurial energy in the local and
sustainable economy, and providing simple gifts that express love and can help
refocus our attention on contentment.
These
practices are simple, but not easy. They are expressions of the kingdom of God
and his righteousness, and Jesus tells us that we must strive for such as this: a description not of casual agreement, but
of ongoing effort leading to habitual behaviour. Lent is, after all, a journey
into the wilderness, into the place of testing. But after the testing, this is
the very place of grace.
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