The theme of the 2020 Week of Prayer for Christian Unity was 'Unusual Kindness'. It was a delight to preach at our joint service.
The Boy, the mole, the fox and the horse was a Christmas bestseller at Waterstones and is billed as the new Winnie the Pooh.
It’s a beautifully illustrated book. It’s full of wisdom about what matters in life: it’s full of courage and love, friendship and inspiration. It names vulnerabilities and hurst, and our longing to belong.
You may have been given a copy; or bought several to give to friends; mine, sits on my bedside table.
The characters emerged from the imagination of the illustrator Charlie Mackesy when he was thinking about the bravery of asking for help. The characters perhaps reflect different aspects of who we are as human beings - a child’s curiosity, the mole’s enthusiasm, the fox’s pain and the horse’s wisdom.
Above all, it is a book which encourages us to live with courageous kindness; and to ask for help when we need it.
“I’m so small” said the mole.
“Yes”, said the boy, “but you make a huge difference.’
`”What do you want to be when you grow up?”
“Kind” said the boy.
Kindness.
An unusual and courageous kindness.
A kindness that is so ordinary; yet utterly extraordinary.
Not so much a random act; but an intentional way of being.
Kind.
This evening’s service has invited to us to mediate on and immerse ourselves in another story. A story which is full of risk.
What we hear in Acts can’t be reduced to an adventure story on the high seas; it is a drama of survival infused with the hope of salvation.
The winds are fierce; the water swells.
The ship is at risk along with its crew and their cargo; the prisoners and the owners profit.
If there was a time for courage, for unusual kindness, this is it.
We see it Paul in the way he steps into the confusion and chaos. The centurion and the owner are deliberating about the risks they face; and Paul also speak up. He speaks of a different risk. In the words of black American theologian Willie Jennings he speaks of ‘risk rooted in the love of the Creator for a fragile creation’.
The risk of that love is seen as God reveals Godself in Jesus, Word made flesh. The risk of that love is seen in the Spirit guiding, breathing, speaking, comforting in the unexpected.
Paul knew that he and his companions were in the hands of a God who overcame death. He spoke that word amidst the winds and the waves, in the face of the anxiety of human effort and concern.
Words of a prophetic kindness.
Words spoken when we’re struggling to survive; when we fear drains our hope.
Words not always heard at the time.
Words which dare to say God lives and we too will have life.
Paul rests in the stability of his faith.
He acts out and shares his faith amongst the chaos; he reaches out the hungry, desperate and exhausted.
He breaks bread.
This too is an unusual and courageous act of kindness; a simple act which brings nourishment and encouragement.
Simple bread: satisfying under and renewing hope.
As we minister together across Hendon and Colindale, perhaps we can sit with the question posed by Jennings: ‘when will we offer food - and invite the fearful to eat?’
Kindness.
An unusual and courageous kindness.
A kindness that is so ordinary; yet utterly extraordinary.
Not so much a random act; but an intentional way of being.
Kind.
The ship disintegrates; life is at risk. It’s the centurion who shows humanity in preserving life. He steps out of the world of profit and security; he acts for a world of humanity and dignity.
He offers a thread of hope in crisis.
But what now, as this human cargo finds itself washed up, exhausted, battered and traumatised.
They’ve been saved from storm and wave; saved from the threat of violence. Their lives once deemed expendable are restored to them; but they are in acute need.
Will they been seen as a risk or someone else’s problem? Will they be seen as a threat or a burden to be left at the mercy of the elements?
The Maltese make a fire.
The invite the shipwrecked to sit in its warmth.
What they offer is fully human. And it is full of grace.
They offer hospitality, without condition or limit, at a point of need.
This is perhaps how good news arrives. Not with power, but with weakness and courage; with humility and kindness.
Willie Jennings suggests that this offers us a template. He writes ‘a template is forming here not simply for missions but for the living of the life of faith, where we recognise our vulnerability and our shared need for one another as the beginning point of sharing the gospel’.
Kindness.
An unusual and courageous kindness.
A kindness that is so ordinary; yet utterly extraordinary.
Not so much a random act; but an intentional way of being.
Kind.
Kindness that expressed love, human and divine.
Kindness in which we see a glimpse of the Spirit at work.
In this kindness, salvation has come not only the the shipwrecked but also the the people of Malta.
We don’t hear Paul speak - no word is preached, not testimony is given; in stead he continues to be a servant of God amongst strangers.
And yet in the sharing of food, in unconditional acts of kindness; in the risk of sharing life and all that is life giving, something of the power of Jesus’ risen life is made known.
He comes amongst those strangers and citizens in healing and service: the reality of God’s love, the life of the risen Christ and the grace of the Spirit are mapped on this unexpected act of kindness.
Like the boy, the mole, the fox and the horse, we gather as one; as Christians from differing traditions, with different gifts of wisdom, delight, hospitality and passion.
Yes, we one in Christ, receiving from one another kindness and encouragement; yes, we live together by acts of kindness. Our ecumenical life together happens at the intersection with multi-faith engagement.
The God who calls us to worship and service, to hospitality and witness, calls us to seek and build a kingdom. When we’re fearful, who is is that comes alongside us in those places and feeds us.
To seek a kingdom in a place which is at the cross roads of cultures and faiths, just as Malta was. That this week of prayer overlaps with Holocaust Memorial day urges us, in our engagement with others, to stand together. In those places may we offer food, and invite the fearful to eat.
May we be agents of healing and able to accept gifts of others; may we seek justice and harmony; may we resist mistrust and separation.
May we be ready to give grace-filled hospitality.
May we be ready to receive such grace-filled invitations.
For in those things, God is waiting for us to arrive.
`”What do you want to be when you grow up?”
“Kind” said the boy.
Kindness.
An unusual and courageous kindness.
A kindness that is so ordinary; yet utterly extraordinary.
Not so much a random act; but an intentional way of being.
Kind.
© Julie Gittoes 2020
