Today
is our Harvest Thanksgiving. Today, we come bringing food for the foodbank,
recognising that the good gifts God gives us are for the relief of those in
need as well as our own well-being; and recognising the injustice that results
when, as a society, we choose not to look beyond ourselves. As we come, I want
to draw out some principles from our readings that might help us to go deeper.
Turn
with me to our reading from Deuteronomy.
Moses has led the people through the wilderness, but will not be the one to
lead them into the land that God had promised to their ancestors. So, Moses
gives them his final words of wisdom. The first thing I want to draw out is the
idea that the land God is giving them has within it everything they need,
either directly or through resources to trade. Of course, it will require
effort—God will no longer drop manna and quail into their laps; they will need
to sow and reap, mill and bake; they will need to mine and smelt and forge—but the
land itself contains everything they need. And I wonder whether we believe that
the same is true of the ‘land’ God has settled us in, Sunderland, in the north
east of England? Are the resources we need, if we are to flourish in this place,
to be found in this city, this region, this nation? What do you think? Is what being
true then and there also true here and now? Is this a good land too,
or a scorched earth?
The
second thing I want to draw out relates to the experience of plenty and the
experience of need. Moses goes on to tell the people that the resources of the
land will multiply. If you have a male goat and a few female goats, you will
get a flock of goats. In an agricultural society and a trade-based society,
resources tend to multiply, at least in the long-term. And Moses understood
that there was an inherent danger in that: the danger that when we have plenty,
we attribute it to ourselves. We believe that we deserve it, that we have
earned it through our effort. And because we attribute plenty to ourselves, we
must equally attribute lack or need as earned or deserved. Moreover, we must
believe that the earth is not fruitful as abundant gift, and so we must compete
for resources: which in turn casts those in need as a threat to our plenty.
Moses confronts such a tendency head-on: all we have is a gift from God. At
times we might need to lose everything to rediscover that in our inability to
meet our own needs, God provides: and, in his mercy, the times that humble and
test us may turn out, in the end, to do us good. We may be invited by God to
experience such times, and may discover them to do us good. We do not, however,
get to discover that for anyone else: we do not get to decide that having to rely
on a foodbank will do other people good.
Where,
then, do we experience multiplication? And where do we experience the humbling
of vulnerability and need? Perhaps we experience both in our Iranian brothers
and sisters, a community that has grown from one person to many. Their faith
has greatly encouraged many of us in our faith. But their lack of resources has
also become our lack of resources, our shared need: and our shared opportunity
to experience God’s provision.
Turn
with me to our reading from 2 Corinthians.
The context of this passage is this: the church in Jerusalem is experiencing
the hardship of a local famine, and Paul is mobilising the churches he has
planted in Greece to send financial support. They have been blessed—spiritually—by
the church in Jerusalem; now they can bless them—materially, in this instance—in
return. The church in Corinth had committed to give a certain amount, but were
now struggling to raise it. Paul encourages them to give as they have made up
their mind to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, but cheerfully and as
a way of entering-into God’s abundant provision.
Each
year, the Bishop of Durham writes to the parish churches of the Diocese asking
them to prayerfully consider what they will contribute to the shared cost of
providing ministry across our communities. The Parochial Church Council has
agreed that we will give £30,000 this year, and the same amount next year. In
fact, we would like to give more, but in considering our circumstances as a
congregation, this is the amount that we believe is enough beyond our financial resources to require faith while not being beyond the faith we have at
present.
This
is, indeed, where we find ourselves. Financially, we are behind on our target;
but we have faith that it is what God would have us give, and that God will
provide. Indeed, I know that this is a congregation that knows God’s generosity
and has been set free to be generous ourselves, because again and again I am
blown away by the generosity of the Minster congregation. But we need to talk
about our financial commitments and needs, because we have a turnover of committed
givers who move on, or have died, and new people joining our community.
Even
as we bring generous gifts to help those in need of food, this passage from 2 Corinthians gives us the opportunity
to think about our committed financial giving. There are two things you can do.
The first is, if you do not at present give a regular, committed donation—that is,
giving that enables us to plan a budget—then please consider doing so, and talk
to Sandra. If you already give, thank you. Please review your giving regularly.
You may be able to increase it, cheerfully; you may need to reduce it, if you
are to remain cheerful, in order that it doesn’t become burdensome: what
matters is that it is an active decision you can act on.
The
second thing is this. On Sunday 3rd December—Advent Sunday—we will
be holding a Gift Day, on which we will celebrate the generosity of this place
and this people, expressed in the giving of our time, our skills, our money. We
will take up a collection towards our Parish Share, and I invite you to
prayerfully consider what God might be asking you to contribute, over-and-above
your regular, committed giving, and to bring your gift that day. More on that
to come.
Finally,
turn with me to our Gospel passage, from Luke.
The famous parable of the rich fool, who hoarded his wealth for himself instead
of blessing others; contrasted with God’s abundance on display in the goodness
of the land. I am struck by God’s words to the man whose land produced
abundantly: ‘You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And
the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’
I
think we assume that God says this because the man will die that night—and indeed,
that is implied. But I wonder whether
his demise is incidental, or, rather, simply becomes the point at which it is
too late to change? I wonder whether the point of the story is this: that our life is demanded of us by God
continually—not as slaves, but as covenant partners in creating a society
marked by loving-kindness and steadfast fidelity and mercy and justice. And
that, therefore, all the resources we
have been given are always to be shared: so, we are to continually ask, who
else will benefit, who will share in what we have? In this way—all that we are
and all that we have freely given to God—we discover ourselves to be truly
rich. And discovering this may we increasingly be known for ‘blessing our
communities in the name of Jesus for the transformation of us all.’*
*this,
from the Durham Diocese mission statement.
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