The Apostle Paul writes to the Corinthian church, "We are one body and many parts." It's a letter to a fractured community, an early Christian community, that was disunited, and some people thought they were better than others. Later in that 12th chapter of Corinthians, he says, "One part of the body cannot say to another, 'I don't need you.'" And then in the 13th chapter, of course, perhaps the most famous part of scripture, he talks about love. Love being the highest attribute of humanity. Love that comes from God.
I don’t know about you, but I look at the world on this October day and wonder whether we've forgotten how we live together. We're as bad as that Corinthian church, thinking, "I'm better than you." How can it be that in the 21st century, the supposed most civilized, advanced nation on Earth can decide to live stream a killing by firing squad? Killing by firing squad, in my view, is wrong. I am anti the death penalty, as I know most of my readers will be. This is not some past barbaric time, where people queued up and bought tickets almost to watch somebody hung on the gallows. What sort of world is it also where, however wrong she did, somebody is sentenced to death by lethal injection, again, in the most civilized nation on Earth, and both those injections don't get rid of her, and she ends up shackled to a bed, and we don't know what her future is? Lord have mercy.
I was revisiting some Harry Enfield sketches from the 1990s. He had many different characters. And one of them was a rich man who liked to belittle people around him, including his own family. And he would say, "I thank God that I am considerably richer than you." And in one sketch, his brother had lost his job and clearly needed help. And the rich brother said, "I feel sorry for you, but we don't do charity," and walked away.
What is it that we need to do to change the world? Well, I'm writing this in Saltaire, in West Yorkshire. And Titus Salt, remember, formed community for people and bound them together as one. It's an amazing place to walk around. As I've walked around it on Saturday afternoon, I sense history around me. I've just been dodging the wind and rain in a community cafe by the canal, by one of the locks, just along from Salt's Mill. That place clearly is a gathering place for all sorts of people. Walking, out with families, elderly people meeting for a cuppa, people who clearly meet there regularly. We still yearn, I think, in a world that is becoming more and more isolationist for community.
One of my pet hates is the machine in the supermarket, the self-service machine, which is meant to speed things up. But what happens is you put your item on the scanner and it bleeps at you. "Unexpected item in packing area," or, "Put item in packing area." And you have to wait for a real person to come along to sort you out. I went to Manchester on the train recently. I bought a car park ticket on my phone. I didn't have a physical ticket. It was an app with a countdown clock. I bought my train ticket online, which appeared on my phone with a barcode. My ticket was not checked by a person. When I arrived at Manchester Victoria, my phone with the barcode got me through the barrier. I didn't interact with anybody. I went to London last year for a meeting and had to stay overnight. The same process happened. I stayed in a hotel near King's Cross. Again, my phone got me into the building. My phone got me into the room. There was no key, and I locked the door behind me when I left. Again, no interaction with anybody.
In a world where we could be extremely lonely, I think the church has a lot to learn. We need many more groups like the cafe here in Saltaire for people to gather, as they are, to bring their joys and their sorrows and their problems and their concerns and share them with one another. One place I like to go to if I'm in Thirsk and have time to kill is the Farmers Mart, the auction mart, and in there is a cafe. And I notice elderly men who are in there every day for a decent hot meal and companionship. They've all lost their wives, and they come from a generation of men who can't cook, nor did they think they had to. So these men meet their friends about 12 o'clock every day, leaving their farm. They have some banter, they have decent food, and they go back to work in the afternoon. Isn't that great?
We're bound together in community still in a world that wishes to pull us apart. Paul says, "If one part of the body suffers, we all suffer, and when one part of the body rejoices, we all rejoice." Friends, in a world where we easily despair, I believe this weekend there is still hope, because I still believe we need each other and we want to be with each other, and deep down, we still care about each other. Paul says, "Love never fails" in 1 Corinthians 13. So if you're feeling fed up in a Trump world, and a Putin world, and a world of firing squads and lethal injection execution, in a world where we push and shove and want our rights because we are owed them, remember, love never fails.
Someone wrote once, "I cannot fix all the world's problems. If I have a ladder, I can only reach what that ladder can reach. I can't do any more." I don't condone climbing ladders. I have a steward in one of my chapels who has ladders and climbs them with nobody else there. That's another story. But I see what the saying is saying. We can only do what we can do. But if we do more of what we can do, we can change our bit of world, and there will be a snowball effect as different bits of the world learn from our experience that they might do the same, too.
Our district chair, Romeo, reminded us in a sermon recently of the African word ubuntu, I am because you are. So friends, we are one body with many parts. Let's celebrate our diversity. Let's celebrate that we still have community, and let's celebrate today that God loves us just as we are and yearns for us to share that love with those who need it most.
