sermon, pente+8

Gen 29.15-28; Ps 119.129-136; Rom 8.26-39; Mt 13.31-33,44-52

           We start this morning with these wonderful scriptures – these beautiful passages. And – not surprisingly – we get more parables from Jesus. They’re shorter today, but they are just as poignant and powerful as the ones we’ve heard the past few weeks.  And they talk about the Kingdom of God.                     

            The underlying message, however, is not just about the Kingdom – it’s about the people for whom the Kingdom of God exists.

            The Kingdom of God is meant to be accessible to everyone - the faithful, the not-yet-faithful, the no-longer-faithful. It's meant to be realistic to us all - and this is why Jesus speaks of it so often, and in so many different ways, and contexts.

            The Kingdom of God is what Jesus speaks about the most throughout the gospels. And he speaks about it to anyone who will listen. Like the disciples. Or the Pharisees. Or the common folks in between. Whatever the social standing of the people to whom he is speaking, Jesus invites them all to hear about the good news of the Kingdom of God in the same way - Let anyone with ears listen!

            And he invites us, today, to hear these same messages of love and inclusion and mission and ministry. He offers so many examples because there are so many ways that we - ordinary everyday people - can share God's love and grace.

            The Kingdom of God is about the extravagant sower from 2 weeks ago - because the farmers and landowners needed to hear in a way they could understand that God will share his love without limit around the world - and they are thus invited to do the same.

            The Kingdom of God is like the master who lets the weeds and wheat grow together, from last week's Gospel - because the crowds who were gathered needed to hear in a way they could understand that God's love and grace is not limited to one-time human judgements.

            The Kingdom of God. It's like the labourer with a sketchy past who is willin to work in the fields for the love of his life. And when he is tricked out of his intended marriage, does the right thing by both his love and her sister. And we learn later that he continues with some... less-than-ideal behaviours, but this ordinary guy Jacob will be used by God to help spread good news.

            The Kingdom of God is like the psalmist who recognises that he's living in this world, in this place where temptation is ever present but where the desire to do Godly and righteous things is strong. He is very honest with God about asking for help, about how to see the Kingdom more present in the here and the now.

            The Kingdom of God is like the Spirit who moves in and through us, and seeks out the prayers of our hearts instead of catching in the words of our mouths. It is a place where no human powers and no human strength will be able ot deny love, or end love, or destroy love - for the Kingdom of God is a place where we truly know, as Paul suggests, that we are never separated from the love of God in Christ Jesus.

            The Kingdom of God. It's all things to all people, as Jesus himself offers almost unique descriptions of it.

            To one, it is like a mustard seed - where size doesn't matter; but growth does. Even the smallest beginning can be the greatest benefit to another.

            To another, it is yeast; a substance that seems invisible yet has the power to transform great quantities. In bread yeast prevents dullness and flatness; likewise the presence of the Kingdom lifts God's people up and above the world's circumstances.            To yet another, Jesus speaks of the hidden treasure: the mere possibility of which is so enticing  that one would give up everything just for the chance to attain it. The Kingdom of heaven, to one who has kept things hidden, is a joy worth all that you have.

            To another, still in the marketplace, the Kingdom of heaven is a known and much desired valuable. It is the pearl of all pearls; it is uncommon and worth looking for; a valued and valuable reality all by itself.

            The Kingdom, to those feeling excluded, is like a net. The net includes everyone, regardless of life circumstance, in one grand area, heading in one direction. To think of Jesus' other sayings about the net catching the fish, we celebrate that nets for Jesus mean abundance and nourishment - and the Kingdom brings us all into that realm.

            To another, who may have a bad reputation, the Kingdom is also waiting to receive them and their talents and skills. The scribe, though often perceived alongside the Pharisees as unfriendly to the mission of Jesus, was someone who had authority and training and skills. And so even "those people" - the people strongly disliked by Jesus' immediate audience - even those people have a lot to offer in the Kingdom of Heaven - some old and some new - but all included.

            So once again, as we journey through these parables, we realise that Jesus is challenging the status quo.  He is inviting us to reconsider how we understand our role in the world, and our role in the community that seeks the Kingdom.

            In a world that says on the rich matter... only the predominant culture matters... only the famous people matter... only the important people matter... Jesus says: the Kingdom is different. For in the Kingdom, you *all* matter. In the kingdom, you are *all* important. In the Kingdom, none of these petty differences and distinctions will carry any weight.

            The kingdom of God, then, is like the most unlikely and unearthly thing that we can think of. It's amazing and wondrous, it transcends our human limitations and restrictions. It's a place of perfect love and inclusion; a place for ordinary people.  And, the Kingdom of God is as close as we will let it be. Because it is there for all of us to understand, for all of us to grasp, for all of us to share.

            The Kingdom of God, then, is like the community who would listen to the words of Jesus. They would give thanks, offer prayers, gather in worship and praise, and share a meal. They would welcome the stranger, share with the less fortunate, visit the sick, love everyone they met. They are normal people celebrating the extraordinary love of God. 

           The Kingdom of God is within our reach. We can bring it even closer through our ministries. For it is the delight of the Lord to share his love. So let all of us, who have ears, hear; let all of us who hear take action.

With inspiration from Jennifer T. Kaalund's commentary on workingpreacher.org

Sermon, Pentecost +7 (Matthew 13.24-30,36-43)

            So here we are with the second of seven in this series of Jesus' parables according to St Matthew the Evangelist!  Aren't we glad that this week's primary character, the landowner and farmer, is so much more... well, stable than the extravagant sower from last week? He was weird, right?

            Except, we don't get that. We get instead another parable of some weird, kookie guy. He's nameless, and sows good seed, and isn't too perturbed when weeds sprout up.

            So, for those of us with our pretty gardens, we may think this is just a bit eccentric. LEAVE the weeds in? Ignore the weeds? Yikes. That's just not our style - there are umpteen products we buy to prevent and destroy weeds. I have neighbours who seem to patrol their gardens daily - if not more often - to make sure that as soon as the first hint of a weed pops up, it can be suitably dealt with.

            These are our pretty flowerbeds - we don't depend on them for food. And *when* those weeds do have the nerve to try and grow, we see them for what they are - weeds. The growth from a seed that happened to be in that place at that time, under the right conditions to grow. It's a weed - it's what they do.

            Yet our character today says that the weeds aren't just happenstance; they've been intentionally and maliciously placed among the wheat. And, dear gardeners, just leave them there - it'll be fine.

            In today's common language, we might refer to this person as a conspiracy theorist. An enemy secretly planting weeds at night.  Suuuurre.

            So here's where it gets even stranger for the workers, those 'slaves' who are out standing in the field: this is not a flowerbed, it’s the place where the primary sustenance for the entire household - family, workers, friends who visit - for all those people for the year and beyond. This is not to be taken lightly; there is no convenience store up the road should the crop fail.

            But - the master says, it'll be fine.

            And let's take our wheaty learning one step further. The weeds in question are dandrels. Tares. Nasty plants that look an awful lot like wheat – and propogate quickly as they’re camouflaged in the wheat, and they produce a seed that is poisonous to humans. So mix in a few of these things with the wheat through the mill, and the whole batch of flour is useless.

            But, Jesus says, the Master has indicated that he's okay with that.

            I suspect at this point of the story, the field workers were raising their eyebrows to one another, wondering about the boss' sanity. I suspect at this point that those who were wishy-washy about the whole “let’s follow Jesus” notion left off, ignored his comments, and went back to their previous way of life.

Yet the disciples, in their commitment, refuse to accept the shock and confusion of the parable, and they ponder what the learning was meant to be from this.

But even in the clear(er) description that Jesus gives, the implications of which remind us that God's kingdom is not as black-and-white as we might like it to be.

There are some unexpected parts in that. The devil, for example – this parable reminds us that as much as God is sending goodness into the world, the devil sends badness into it.

(And today's sidebar is just a reminder that "the devil" wasn't necessarily referring to any one personified being, but instead to a nebulous concept of sin and temptation. And that just as we can see God's actions in the regular, small, ordinary stuff of life, so too we need to be aware that the devil will work through small, regular, ordinary ways too. It's not always BIG drama and trauma.)

            So - back to the parable: the harvest is the end of the age, the eschaton, when God’s messengers (angels just means messenger, not some greeting-card kind of cute little floating-with-a-harp things) – they’ll judge who is wheat and who is weed.

        Ah yes, there’s the underlying message for us all here. The judgement: it’s not ours to do. It’s up to God, in God’s time, in God’s way.

        And that means that it’s not up to us to judge. It’s not up to us to decide when judgement should be. And it’s not up to us to decide what that judgement will look like.

        Ouch. THAT is a strong message. Because that’s exactly what we do, isn’t it? We are judgey people. Always have been, always will be – it’s part of the reality of being a human being in the world, where sin and temptation can pervade everything.

        In fact, that sinfulness is part of the judgement, if we listened closely. Jesus says that part of the winnowing of the devil’s work will be to cast out the cause of sins… the systems and structures and influences, be they large or small. They will be held to account, Jesus tells us. So we can’t get away with “but everyone else was doing it” or “I was only following orders” or any other excuse.

In fact, we’re meant to work against that. God gives us an inquiring mind and discerning heart so we can respond faithfully to the world: God challenges us to work against the structures in which sin flourishes: for ourselves, for our families, for the world.

The weeds are going to go, Jesus tells us. But until they do, just be aware that they’re their. So let’s instead think about the wheat. The good stuff. The source of nourishment and nutrition. The good stuff. It’s where we want to be; who we think we are. Righteous people shining like the sun in the kingdom of our Father! PHEW!

            Except. (Yes, there is always a 'except' moment.) Except the reality too is that after leaving these two plants together, there's bound to be some cross-pollination. Some natural genetic shift-up happening as the wheat and weeds comingle and jockey for the earth's nutrients to grow, as these plants exert influence over each other. We'd have some pretty nifty weedy-wheat growing; some of its seed poisonous, some of it nutritious and necessary.

            This would make it even harder to split the weeds from the wheat, the good from the bad. And that too is a learning from Jesus today: there exists within each of us good and bad, humble and proud, positive and negative.

        This is a hard lesson. For the disciples then, for us now. It’s Jesus teaching that the spiritual journey can be a difficult one. It's not a simple thing, to grow in the relationship with God, to remain steadfast in the faith. It takes effort to continue to grow, and make sure that we're not overpowered by the evil in the world. To make sure that we're not dissuaded from our faith and allow it to succumb to external pressures. To make sure that we're not distracted from our journey by some temporally and temporarily thing that is ungodly. And that we're not so blended that we need to be careful and prayerful to discern what is wheat and what is weed within ourselves.

The lesson continues with encouragement though. Jesus wants us to know that our growth is wanted by the Father. We are assured that we will have as many chances as we need to be as much wheat as we can be.

This parable reassures us to be gentle with ourselves as we strive to be strong in our faith. It's not going to be easy, but it is going to be worth it. It's not going to be all good or all bad - sin and temptation will always be creeping around. And yet, we are also to remember that God’s infinite patience with us is overpowering any earthly ways. In our weedy days, we’re given the chance to be wheaty. In our wheaty ways, we’re given the chance to grow stronger.

        What a wonderful, illogical, unlikely reality that God gives us for our journey. What a blessing to us all. What a spiritual gift to know that no matter how sinful we can be, we are never beyond God’s grace and care. And no matter how righteous we are, we are never beyond God’s grace and care.

        Let everyone who has ears truly hear this Good news of God.  

Sermon, Pentecost +6 (Mt 13.1-9, 18-23)

            This Sunday we get the first of a string of parables that Jesus tells his followers.  So let's think about parables as a whole. They're nice, short analogies. They're meant to be easily understood, as they use characters and situations that just about everyone in that context can relate to. They're designed and shared to share a moral or spiritual lesson. And Jesus uses them a lot.

            Now, I say they're "meant to be easily understood" because sometimes - even with the number of biblical commentaries that are out there - we can misunderstand what is being said. We can be so out of the context that we don't understand the reference. Or, even like the disciples in the weeks to come, sometimes even THEY didn't fully grasp the intentions and implications of the lesson from the teacher.

            So, knowing that before we start, we can be a bit more gentle with ourselves as we do our best on this gorgeous and hot Sunday morning to understand what Jesus is talking about, why it mattered then, and how we are going to find its meaning in our own lives.

            Now, this first parable, commonly called the parable of the sower - well, this is one that we all understand. Right? It's one we've heard before, it's one we could tell others about - we've got this. Don't we?          Would we be comfortable or confident if suddenly there was a pop quiz on the passage we've just heard? Hmm.

            But - still - we know this! Jesus is talking about the kingdom of heaven, and wants us to think about where we fit into that, and how our spiritual life is going. So we hear about the seed and where it falls. There's good seed, being cast around, and it can fall in one of four places, with expected and easily understood consequences. Clearly, it's about how we respond in faith to the world around us; how we receive the word of God from the WORD of God. 

            The seed can fall on the path: it would be eaten by birds. Well, we don't want that for ourselves, now do we? To be unable for our faith to even take root, and instead to be feasted on by something else?

            The seed can also fall on the rocky ground: lacking the depth to really take root, so trying to spring up, but then withering without a solid foundation to nourish and support us. Hmm. Also no.

            The seed than might fall into a thorny patch, and try as it might be so overwhelmed by everything else that's happening there that it is suffocated away from growth. Life's complicated enough for us all without needing to worry that distractions of the earthly "good life" are literally killing our spirits. Nope.

            So the fourth option then comes when the seed hits good hospitable soil. And when that happens, it takes off to astronomical results.

            Now: THAT's what we all want, right? Clearly Jesus was talking to US in THIS category. Good seed, good soil, good growth. We're to think about what type of soil we are, and how we can improve ourselves so that we can be in that small group that is thriving and producing. With a 75% failure rate, we do not want to be anywhere else. So we work at it, right?

            And naturally, Jesus is going to tell us precisely how to land ourselves in that 25% success group. Except: this is that pop quiz part: he doesn't.  He leaves that one to us.

            But he does invite us to delve deeper into it. "Let anyone with ears listen!"

            It's at this point where we really get to think about what it is that he's been saying. And not necessarily how we normally listen. Because we tend to listen only half-way - as someone in front of us is speaking, we're already planning our reply. Yet Jesus is encouraging a deeper type of listening. A spiritual listening, a time to take in what is being communicated to us, and reflect on it, and really think about it. Then, our response is not an immediate verbal reply, but one that is lived out through our actions.

            So our interaction with this parable is not going to be a quick "I'm on good soil, I'll produce!" but a mandate to live our lives in such a way that we do grow and produce and then grow some more and produce some more. It's a slow and steady reality. It takes time of being nourished and supported by the word. It's a process of understanding the word, of re-engaging with the same messages over and over again as we discover new ways to make our lives align with what it is we are hearing.

            So let's consider this parable of the sower, as though we've never heard it before. let's ignore what we think we understand about this parable, and try to hear it with new ears and hearts. Because here's a few things that are happening in this parable that you may not have really heard before...

            Firstly, Jesus is talking about the Kingdom of God; the Kingdom of Heaven. And he's not referencing it way off in the future. Jesus is talking about how close and how present the Kingdom is. It's here, and it's now, and it's up to us to celebrate that we are catching glimpses of it every day. It's when we truly trust that the Kingdom of God is part of our present reality that we can start to grow a little bit more, and produce a little bit more.             God's not looking for our growth and production as some sort of a final exam at the Pearly Gates; he's wanting it to be part of our rule of life and practical practice of ministry.

            Here's another thing from the parable, which I share from Barbara Brown Taylor. Jesus invites us to hear the parable of the sower. And then he talks about the seeds. And we find ourselves distracted and satisfied with that.

            But imagine if we thought about the sower. Imagine if we considered the actions of that sower, casting seed about.  Imagine if the lesson was not just about ourselves as the soil, but about how extravagantly the seed is being cast. The sower here is literally tossing this valuable seed EVERYWHERE. It's impractical, and inefficient, and not at all how we would do things. We'd only plant in good soil, in clean rows, and put up bird nets and weed out daily and... you get the point.

            But the sower isn't worried about that. The sower just wants to get as much seed out as possible, in as many directions as possible, to the maximum potential benefit, regardless of what's expected.

And there are benefits to that: birds eating seed off the pathway, maybe some seed will be washed downstream and take root, maybe there's a hidden hint of good soil untouched by rocks or thorns. Who knows?

            The sower knows. And so the sower casts, our maker "who seems willing to keep reaching into his seed bag for all eternity, covering the whole creation with the fertile seed of his truth."[1]

            This is the gift of the word - that it is given time and again, in all conditions, with the hope that we might hear it and understand. May we celebrate the extravagance of the sower, to provide so many opportunities for us to open our ears to listen.

---

[1] Barbara Brown Taylor, The Seeds of Heaven, p. 26

Sermon, 5th Sunday after Pentecost

Genesis 24.35-38, 42-49, 58-67
Zechariah 9.9-12
Romans 7.15-25a
Matthew 11.16-19, 25-30

          Sometimes we can be shocked when our reality does not fit with our expectation. There's a story of a man who bought a Persian rug online for a great deal, but didn't read the details carefully... so was shocked to receive a rug that was 9x12 - inches, not feet. It was a Persian rug for a doll house. 

          Amusing, annoying, and important to learn that the fine print matters. We mustn't get so caught up in the expectation that the reality is disappointing.

          For, when it comes to being faithful to God, we tend to come to God with our very earthy, very earthly expectations; and so often the reality is so completely different.

          This is not new - the scriptures today provide several examples of where God's people have an expectation, and God intervenes is astonishing ways.

          So let's consider the soap opera from Genesis. We're just getting the highlights: Isaac needs a wife, sends a servant to find the best one, just go to the well where all the single girls hang out. Hmm. Awkward!

          Rebekeh’s brother conspires with the servant, and sends her to the well. There she sees the servant, offers to water him AND his camels. Sidenote: each of these 10 camels will drink some 20-30 gallons at a time. That's a lot of drawing and carrying water by herself.  Yet she does it, and the servant finds her beautiful, freakishly strong, and makes sure she happens to be wearing some snazzy jewelry. She agrees to leave her family and homeland to go be with some dude she's never met. Then, - I did mention soap opera drama, yes? - she sees Isaac, and is so smitten by this biblical dreamboat that she falls off her camel.

          Fun storytelling aside, the text is clear. Isaac knows he needs a wife to provide legitimate heirs, but is so grief-stricken he sends his servant to find someone. Anyone. His expectation is low: any girl to be a mother for his children.

          The reality, however, is so much more: he finds love and comfort and care, in a woman that is faithful and generous and compassionate.

          The reality far exceeds the expectation.

          In our canticle, we have the Israelites' expecting the same old same old they've had in their 16-year exile. They're feeling defeated - it's been one hit after another.

          But God is not 'same old' and never has been. So to this heavy-hearted community, Zechariah encourages a renewed energy and commitment to one another through faith.

He tells them not to expect a warhorse of a leader, but a gentle true King on a donkey.

He tells them not to expect a great bloody war to end all wars, but a persistent and prevalent dispersion of peace.

He reminds them that the people imprisoned in jail and those caught in despair will be set free - going so far as to call them "prisoners of hope" - what a great thing to be known for, for having a complete hope in God's covenant and the promise of salvation.

          The expectation of the people is that they will be evermore defeated; the reality is a restoration of faith and community.

          Again, The reality far exceeded the expectation.

          Romans is a rich text, with Paul struggling over his identity as a beloved child of God. The expectation on earth is that one's life is one's own, and each individual is responsible with their body, their person, to answer to the law. We like the law, it's a good set of reasonable and time-tested expectations.

          Yet Paul realises that the spiritual reality is bigger; that sin - not a breaking of the law, but a sin - is evil, and should be avoided, and can in fact cause eternal damage to the soul. The body, through sin, is condemned to eternal death.

          Then, how wonderful for Paul in this letter to also recognise that God is bigger than the human law. God is bigger than sin. God's mercy and grace is so much more than can be asked or imagined, it is so much more than any of the sins we commit in our bodies. So with our minds, our true selves, we come to God and are welcomed and received with the promise of salvation and redemption.

          Again, THAT reality far exceeds the limited bodily expectation.

          And in the Gospel this morning, we hear how the expectation and the reality don't quite match up. Jesus is challenging the folks about their commitment and faith. They've dismissed John the baptist because he didn't eat and drink, therefore he must be a demon. They've rejected and insulted Jesus because of the company he kept (of whom the upper echelon did NOT approve.

          "Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds."

          Indeed - that continues with Jesus' prayer. "Thanks dad," he says, "that you've given heavenly knowledge to the simple folks, and kept it from those who would connive to use it for personal gain."

          Hmm. Definitely not the expectation of the people. But it is the reality of God in their midst.

          Jesus continues with that beautiful passage that we hear so often: "Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."

          And here I invite us to delve deeper into what Jesus is saying - because if we have the expectation that this means that *POOF* Jesus will automatically make our lives perfect - well, then we've missed the point. The reality is even more beautiful and profound than that.

          In this promise, Jesus offers us a community of love and support. Jesus invites us to come to him with our challenges: all of them, and to receive help. For the tortured soul, there can be no better assurance.

          And the reality of this 'rest for the soul' is the sharing of the burden. The yoke is an agrarian tool that connects animals and requires them to walk in sync with one another. Right foot, left foot, repeat. And it is through this synchronicity that the burden of hoeing the line is lessened. Together, we can do it; alone, we struggle in pain.

          "Learn from me," Jesus says: not as an individual who is isolated from others as a result of your burdens, but come and walk with me, and with all the others on this journey. Be a disciple that builds community. Take extra weight from another of the beloved so that they too can thrive; know that when you struggle your companions will ease your burden.

          Jesus never promises to make things magically perfect for us - the burden is light but not gone. Jesus does promise that he will be gentle with us, and work with us. But we have to choose to also walk with Him, to do the hard stuff of being his followers: to love God with all we have, even when it means self-denial in this life. To love our neighbours as we want to be loved, moving beyond our own judgements and prejudices to embrace the beloved child of God in our midst.

          It's a powerful message for us all.

          Love God; Love one another. Help one another, under the yoke of the Lord. Journey side by side, doing whatever we can to help make the shared burden lighter.

Don't expect it to be easy; but do it anyway.

          And be delightfully shocked to discover that the reality of God's love for us far exceeds anything we ever expected.

Sermon 02 july 2017 (pentecost +4; Mt 10.40-42)

         A number of years ago, I was visiting my friend Kate in East Africa. She was living and working in a place that was literally off the map - at least half of the adventure was just getting there.

         One day as we were just chatting, listening to the monkeys pester the chickens, giggling about whatever we were giggling about, there was a knock at the door. Kate answered, then walked to the kitchen, walked back a moment later carrying a cup of water. There was conversation in Kiswahili (which I obviously did not understand), then a moment later she shut the door, and put the empty cup back in the kitchen, and came back to continue our visit.

         Obviously seeing my confusion, she let me know that a child was walking by, and was thirsty, so he came to her door for a drink. This was somewhat normal there... and to deny someone a cup of cool water when they asked was simply NOT done.

         The circumstances of water at the time were fascinating. The region was in a drought; the reservoir was lower than was safe or sustainable. Any time there was rain, people ran outside with buckets to catch the runoff from the corrugated roofs.

         To shower, Kate would manually fill a large(ish) basin on a shelf near the roof, use her kerosene stove (which was also used for cooking) to heat the water, then let it trickle out as needed. To drink or cook, water was boiled and run through a charcoal filter.

         There was no way one would waste water in these circumstances. There was also no way one would withhold water in these circumstances.

         So when the young boy had passed by and he was thirsty, he just knocked on the door and asked for water. It wasn't just at Kate's house where this could be expected - it would have been at any house, at any time.

         Now, imagine, in our culture, what would happen if someone knocked on a random door and asked for water. Some unfortunate possibilities include:

Suspicion and cynicism: Who is this person, and why do they need my water?

Criticism and derision: Why don't they get water at home, and carry some with them?

Contempt and disdain: Today it's water, what will they expect tomorrow? Will I be expected to give water every day?

Fear: What if they're using water to get into my house and rob me?

There could be snarky responses... or a sarcastic "fine" that speaks of judgement and insult; or the non-verbal responses... the eye rolls, the deep sighs, the head tilts or shoulder drops.

         That's not really ideal, is it? Not really a welcoming gesture or response to someone asking for something so simple... But we can all imagine those responses to a knock at the door from a stranger.

         Yet for the boy that day, knocking on Kate's door, he knew that it was okay to ask, and that he would be cared for.

         That's the type of welcome that Jesus is speaking of in today's Gospel. A hospitality that can be so simple, yet so necessary. A hospitality that is safe, that is important, that is exactly what's needed, and that is reciprocal. It's a hospitality that is universal, too.

         This hospitality is one that everyone can offer. It's one that everyone should be prepared to offer. It's one that everyone should be willing to do, with a joyful heart.

         That's where it gets to be special. Because the intention is what makes this mission and ministry: this is not just about pouring a cup of water, but a genuine desire of the heart to provide what is needed and wanted to someone in our midst. It is changing the story from one of selfish distrust and dismissal to one of Christ-like hospitality and welcome.

         Even in the midst of drought, of catching water off a roof, of boiling and filtering - it was a joy to share. There was no hoarding, no denial, no selfishness. Because there was trust that there would be enough.

         Because God gives us community so that we can share with one another. God gives us opportunity to recognise the abundance - the enough-ness - of what we have. God invites us to take that enough-ness and grow community.

         And so our gospel invitation today is to do just that - to look at our lives and to assess what we have, and what we are able to share.

         And here's a key message: it's not actually about water.

         Hey - water's great. I like water. I enjoy indoor plumbing. I appreciate have safe potable water at multiple taps all over the place.
         But this isn't a message about water; at least not about the H2O element. This is about the Living Water being made easily accessible to anyone who would ask. That's Jesus' message today.    
         He's focusing on hospitality, on welcome. He's gently (ish) giving us - as the unnamed disciple - the reminder that we are sent into the world to look not inwardly to ourselves, but outwardly to the world - to God's world. And we are meant to find ways to offer welcome. Welcome to the littlest of our brothers and sisters, without any expectation of getting something in return: aside from what's called the psychological paycheque - which just means the joy and happiness that comes from having done something right and good for someone other than ourselves. 

         Within our church here there are ways that can be done... not having a "MY pew" attitude... making sure guests have the bulletin and know which book we're using... sitting with someone we don't normally sit with at coffee hour... asking people to share their ideas for what we can do to build community.

         It costs nothing, it comes from our abundance, and it can be as restorative and refreshing as a cold cup of water on a hot summer's day.

         Within our broader community there are ways we can do this... inviting an unknown neighbour for coffee and conversation... not making a snap judgement or snarky comment on social media... reaching out to social service agencies to ask what they need most and finding ways to provide those needs.

         Again, it costs nothing or little, it comes from our abundance, and it can be as restorative and refreshing as a cold cup of water on a hot summer's day.

         So let's engage this week in ways to be welcoming, ways to offer hospitality. Let's put away the negative reactions that seem to be so prevalent in our culture, and instead celebrate the abundance we have. Let's delight in the 'enough-ness' that pervades our lives, and seek out ways in which we can offer that with grateful hearts.

         The hospitality is within us, and it doesn't cost us to extend it. The welcome is waiting, when we choose to see the opportunity to share it. The ministry and mission of the church is meant for the whole church, when we realise that we are all sent by God to make a difference, no matter how large or how small.

         Let us cheerfully respond to the invitation to carry the mission of the Lord into our world: let us offer that cold cup of water, that refreshing Living Water, to everyone who thirsts.