Sermon: Women's World Day of Prayer

Preacher:

Date:

Friday 1st March 2013

I’m a Radio 4 addict; it forms the background to my life.  Over the last month or more, Woman’s Hour has been compiling a “power list” of the 100 most powerful women in the UK.  They asked the question: who are the movers and shakers who shape the way we live today?  If you scroll down the list, you find many familiar names – starting with the Queen and Theresa May and including Elisabeth Murdoch, J K Rowling, Adele, Camila Batmanghelijh, Clare Balding, Shami Chakrabati and Traci Emin (and yes, Victoria Beckham also sneaks in!). 

Alongside these “famous” women are many unfamiliar names of those working in fields such as education, politics, policing, economics, social care and the arts; those who contribute to the private, voluntary and public sector and shape the common good.  The surrounding debate is about legacy and recruitment, dressing for success and balancing family life.

However, the question we are gathered here today to reflect upon is about how we welcome the stranger.  There are questions of power, and its use, at the heart of such a topic; those like Theresa May are involved in setting government policy in relation to immigration and asylum seekers. Those in the media shape our perceptions not just about female bodies (and expectations) but also our fear about the stranger, the other.  Civil rights organisations, lawyers, home office officials all find themselves on the front line; as do teachers, health care workers, those running refuges or shelters.

And so do the people of France; and so do we.

In one sense, we don’t have power in line with the definition given by Woman’s Hour.  Few of us our movers and shakers; but if we think about shaping the way we live, how our communities flourish, how individual lives are transformed, then actually we do have a huge amount of power: as governors, parents, consumers, volunteers, professionals, friends; as people who know our communities and attend to them.

Many women, as we have just heard about, are victims of distorted systems of power in our world.  Irena had a dream of a better life; a dream that was ruthlessly exploited, becoming a nightmare of physical and sexual abuses of power.  Sex trafficking is a demeaning, brutal form of modern slavery.   

Many women find themselves to be victims of social, political and economic power structures.  Joyce is judged by appearance rather than qualifications; Khadidja is trapped between earning a pittance working illegally or abject poverty in her own country; Celine witnesses to the distress of children, families and communities as a result of deportation.

Our situation is not dissimilar to that in France – we are both nations with a Colonial past; we are both countries with a reputation for embracing waves of immigration and accepting those seeking political asylum.  Yet in both our countries, immigration has become an emotive issue.  Within our own congregations, no doubt, we will come across very different views about economic and political migration; we also worship alongside those who work on the front line of our health, legal and education systems. 

One aspect of the challenge is to engage with our systems and structures; that is something that can make us feel helpless or defeated, or beyond our capacity in terms of time and information.  However, there are ways in which we engage constructively with individuals, how we support the work going on in our local community.

Two stories: for several years I was a school governor at the primary school in my parish.  It was an atypical “Richmond” school because of the high numbers of children for whom English was their second language or who were from traveller communities or who were from economically/socially vulnerable families.  Pupils undoubtedly made their levels of progress; the atmosphere of welcome and acceptance was tangible; the kind of social, cultural and academic learning in that school was inspiring.  The balance of those things was never fully understood by the wider community; it was never reflected in an Ofsted Report. Yet one of the most moving moments of my ministry there, was to hear a young Turkish boy read at the carol service; and 9 months later see him win a prize for his attainment and achievement.

Secondly, one of my friends is a theologian at Leeds.  All University Departments now find themselves having to take into account social impact as part of the research assessment. Rachel, as part of this, volunteers at a refugee drop in centre.  They give out clothes; provide warmth and comfort and support or advice.  One week day, the room fell silent as a man walked in and railed at the crucifix on the wall of the church hall. He poured out all his pain and resentment and hopelessness in that place.  The pool game stopped; conversation ceased; he walked away.

The book of Leviticus sets out expectations about a holy life.  It isn’t a state of mind; it isn’t a check list; it isn’t about being a holy huddle.  It is a way of life; it is a way of engaging with the other; it is about challenging oppression and not colluding with dishonesty and exclusion.  It is a way of life that we can only live because we stand before a holy God; a God whose love creates, redeems and sustains us.  Before him we are forgiven, refined and remoulded.  The call to holiness is the call to use a different lens when we look upon the stranger; to see him or her as a fellow citizen, a fellow pilgrim here on earth.

 As a church we are called to walk in the world – we never know who we are going to encounter; or what transformation might occur.  Think about the pattern of your week; your commitments; the time you spend with others.  That is a powerful set of potential encounters.  As we walk in the world we can celebrate achievements; we can support those working to nurture, care and education; we can make space for the angry cries of the stranger.  We hold all those thing in hope of the Kingdom of God being fulfilled; in naming those moments when it breaks in in pain and joy.

We recognise the Kingdom when we hear stories of welcome and transformation: of Vera’s vision of the future as blessed by friendship, belonging and work, strengthened by courage and goodness; of the help given to Marie-Leone by a French Christian community. She is no longer a refugee but a woman with stability in education, in relationship and in Christ; of the work done by Francoise in extending hospitality, care and welcome alongside the meeting of medical need.

The Kingdom is something we are called to establish here on earth.  It is a Kingdom of peace and love; a Kingdom where hope is recovered. Matthew’s vision of the final judgement sets out the challenge in black and white terms: caring for, feeding, clothing, welcoming and visiting those in need, those who are vulnerable, is to serve Christ himself.  To turn away from the stranger, the other, is to neglect not only God’s call to holiness, but to fail to love him.

There is no way of lessening the cost and challenge of this.  The women of France express their need for forgiveness when the stranger faces the consequences of mistrust, abuse of power and poverty; they also express their hope of transformation, not just of individual lives but of whole communities when welcome and support is given to the stranger.  The challenges we face, as the European neighbours, are very similar.  We are constantly trying to balance divergent human needs – of justice and compassion, of sustainability and well integrated communities. We don’t know the impact of our ordinary actions.

Our faith is expressed in action. We are enriched by embracing the stranger – we receive from them gifts and blessings. Not only is this is a matter of expressing faith, it is also a witness to the kind of God we believe in.  In choosing to act with love and compassion, in allowing space to support and to bear cries of pain, we reveal the nature of God’s generous love.  We walk as women of faith, with our brothers of faith and good will, in our communities.  Today I hope that we release not just a wave of prayer, but a wave of action (from Samoa, across the middle east to the western coast of the States). 

We serve the other in the power of the Spirit who guides and strengthens and comforts; we welcome the stranger in the name of Christ, who sought out the abandoned and bewildered and unloved; we do this in obedience to our heavenly Father’s command, who calls us all stranger and friend back to his generous heart.  We have in our communities and in our churches more powerful women than the 100 listed on the Radio 4 list.

May God bless our unexpected encounters; and create in us the capacity to welcome the stranger. Amen.