Start:Stop-Near Neighbours or Salaried Strangers? A reflection for World Homeless Week

The Return of the Prodigal Son - Rembrandt (c1669)

Start:Stop at St Stephen Walbrook allows busy commuters to start their day by stopping to reflect for ten minutes. Prayers and reflections start every quarter of an hour from 7.45am until 9.00am each Tuesday morning. This is my reflection from Tuesday 8th October 2019.

Good morning and welcome to Start:Stop. This reflection and our prayers will last around ten minutes and you are welcome to come and go as your schedule dictates. Our reading today is the first part of a famous story of homecoming – and a parable that has much to teach us about the nature of love and how we might serve those in need. It is known colloquially as the parable of the Prodigal Son: 

Bible Reading - Luke 15.11-32

Then Jesus said, ‘There was a man who had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, “Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.” So he divided his property between them. A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and travelled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living. When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything. But when he came to himself he said, “How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.’ ” So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. Then the son said to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” But the father said to his slaves, “Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!” And they began to celebrate.

Reflection

The Dutch Catholic priest Henri Nouwen was captivated by the image of the Prodigal Son painted by his fellow countryman Rembrandt. He spent years meditating on the image – seeing himself as the spend-thrift younger son and later the resentful older brother, until a friend explained “Whether you are the younger son, or the elder son, you have to realise that you are called to become the father.”

These words struck him “like a thunderbolt” and it took several years before be accepted this calling. He later wrote “I am the son of my compassionate father. I am an heir…I am destined to step in to my father’s place and offer to others the same compassion that he has offered me. The return to the father is ultimately the challenge to become the Father.”

How we offer that compassionate love to others is a question we are asked to consider in particular this World Homelessness Week. This year, the Christian charity Housing Justice has called on us to focus on those who volunteer in night shelters across the country. The Chair of Housing Justice, The Bishop of Edmonton, Rob Wickham, has said “To obey Jesus’s teaching is to love. To love Jesus means that we serve our brothers and sisters.”

Cormac Russell, a specialist in “Asset Based Community Development” had some pretty harsh words for those of us who seek to serve others when he spoke at the HeartEdge Conference in Edinburgh last week. He called on us to resist the prevailing assumption that responding to those in need means developing more projects and more initiatives – a trend, he suggested, which is leading us to become a society of “salaried strangers” – where we have outsourced responsibility for loving our neighbours to professionals who exist in a charitable culture in which they are in control; where our “near neighbours” have become “service users.” He explained that he is not anti-expert – medical, legal and other forms of professional advice are vital – and added that volunteers are at just as much risk of becoming ‘salaried’ (or unsalaried?) strangers as professionals – but was resolute that we need to change the balance of power in favour of the lives of those in need - because they don’t want help at the expense of a life of their own.

Authority, he said, never gets transferred or relocated accidentally – we must intentionally give it away – and called on us to do likewise. 

In the parable we have just heard, the Father does just that; emptying himself of authority; his dignity, his wealth and his status because of his extravagant (or prodigal) love for his sons – in fact many have suggested that the parable ought be known as the parable of the Prodigal Father (or perhaps Prodigal God).

First, the Father hands over a share of his inheritance to his younger son ahead of the older brother; on paper at least, the father becomes dead to the son and vice versa.

Next, the Father hands over the authority of his social standing in the community in the manner in which he greets his returning son, as Martyn Percy, the Dean of Christ Church Oxford explains; “..in running to greet his son - an intemperate and rash gesture for one who embodies dignity - [the Father] exposes his legs and makes haste. This is an undignified custom on [his] part…. as elders do not run. They walk slowly as a sign of their dignity.”   

Finally, as the parable concludes, we learn of the elder son’s challenge to his father’s authority - refusing to attend the party thrown in honour of his brother – authority which the father intentionally transfers - “son” he says, “you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.”

At the Conference last week, Cormac Russell explained that one of the most effective ways authority can be intentionally transferred is by asking questions. A simple, but counter-cultural statement in a world where many of us rush in to doing something without thinking to engage with those we think we are doing it for.

Before volunteering at C4WS - the Camden Churches Winter Night Shelter last year, as well as the training about health safety and safeguarding, we received guidance on how to converse with the guests; learning how to relate to each other. This meant not asking questions about the difficulties of life sleeping rough, which engages only with the “homeless” person – but encountering the “whole” person by intentionally giving away the authority of our status as “non-homeless” people by engaging when invited to do so and through open questioning. In some ways we were being trained to become more like the Prodigal Father.

This approach helped to bring about moments where we were invited to enter into the mystery of the lives of others. One conversation at dinner began by sharing our experiences of singing. This led to a discussion on harmony and the discovery that one guest had a degree in mathematics, another was an accomplished pianist. Another enjoyed pop music and described the complex harmonies in Bohemian Rhapsody. Some went on to tell of their own experiences of achieving a state of harmony in their lives – others their struggles to attain it. None of us could answer all our questions about harmony but we enjoyed the experience of listening to each other, took the risk of sharing our own stories - and our own lack of understanding - and grew closer as a result.

The training we received as night shelter volunteers at C4WS helped us to become ‘near neighbours’ rather than ‘salaried strangers’ to the guests at the shelter – by intentionally giving away our status as non-homeless people through the way we related to each other. In doing so, we witnessed in each other and ourselves what St Irenaeus described as the ‘Glory of God’ – human beings fully alive.

Meditation

In a few moments of silence before we pray, perhaps this World Homeless Week, we might consider whether we act like near neighbours or salaried strangers to those around us in need.

Prayers

In our prayers, the response to : Lord, you welcome us all into our eternal home is : help us to love as you love.

Lord, you welcome us all into our eternal home;

help us to love as you love.

Eternal God,

whose love is prodigal,

help us, we pray, to work for a

fairer world where no one goes homeless, no

one goes hungry, no one is left behind.

Lord, you welcome us all into our eternal home;

help us to love as you love.

God of compassion,

Free us from our fear of loss - especially our loss of status;
Help us to intentionally transfer our authority and privilege;

   to share the gifts you have given us and to delight in receiving the gifts of others.

Lord, you welcome us all into our eternal home;

help us to love as you love.

Lord of the lowly

Give us the courage to accept your call to be the Prodigal Father;

To offer others the same compassion which you have offered us;
To be near neighbours not salaried strangers to those around us today.

Lord, you welcome us all into our eternal home;

help us to love as you love.

Blessing

May the prodigal love of the Father

   course through our veins
May the goodness of Christ
   pulse through our bodies
May the power of the Spirit
   flow through our souls

May the wonder of God
   resonate through our minds.
And may the blessing of almighty God, Father Son and Holy Spirit be with us and remain with us this day and always.

Amen.

Thank you for joining us this morning for Start:Stop. Do check out the Housing Justice Website for more resources about World Homeless Week, including more prayers and reflections. Tomorrow at about this time the church of Holy Sepulchre hosts the 50th Annual City Prayer Breakfast, tickets are still available on their website. This reflection will begin again in a few minutes. I hope you have a wonderful week.