I can still remember where I was sitting when I first heard the idea, over 10 years ago, that judgement is not necessarily linked to punishment. It was one of those light bulb moments which made God look different, the world look different and my understanding of myself look different. It burst a bubble of fear that punishment was somehow inevitable, that the only thing that could happen after judgement was sentencing.

And so 10 years later I can say without too much fear that I think we are being are judged. We are being shown they way things are. A spotlight is being shone on us. Not to punish us but to ask us to respond. Not to make us wallow in guilt but to enable us to face the truth.

And in the tradition of all things Christian and preachy I think this is a threefold judgement, delivered by 17 million people on Friday 24th June 2016.

It was a judgement on us as a nation. It revealed to us the flaws and fractures that are criss-crossing British society. It showed a gulf in the dreams of young people and the vision of their grandparents. It showed a divide between people of  different backgrounds – between graduates and non-graduates, between haves and have-nots, between those who feel like they have some power and those who feel they have been ignored continually, berated by the chattering classes and conned by Etonian politicians and bankers. It expressed an anger of unattended hurt, unheard anxiety and unallayed fears. It also reminded us that some people in the UK want to care beyond Europe and voted to leave in order to build closer links with Asia, Africa and the Americas but their voice is barely heard. It may challenge those of us who voted remain to enlarge our vision, broaden our identity and increase our generosity.

It was a judgement on us as a Church. The Church of England is an established church, the church of the nation whose clergy  have responsibility for the wellbeing of the souls of every person who dwells in this land. Our leaders came out as supporting remain but we did not capture the imagination of the people of our country. Maybe we did not dare to suggest to our congregations that their faith should impact on their politics. Did we allow people to think how their beliefs might shape their votes?  Did we give room for people on both sides of the debate to talk to each other about their convictions? Can we do it now?  We have amazing resources and connections in this country. How are we going to use them well? How will we speak to idealistic younger people? How will we hear the voices of people who feel they have no power? How will we connect with people from across the economic spectrum? How will we encourage leaders that are not from middle-class backgrounds? We have been judged – we can’t ignore these questions.

It was a judgement on me as a human being.  I have about 400 friends on Facebook and I would like to think they are a pretty diverse bunch. But before the referendum I did not read one comment from a friend arguing the leave position. I am still to have a face-to-face conversation in which someone has said they are pleased with Friday’s result. One of my friends simply posted today: “I live in a bubble” – and so do I. I like bubbles – I like them in hot-tubs and I like them in prosecco but I realise I cannot live in one. If I stay in my bubble I will never understand half of my neighbours. Then it becomes too easy to categorise and dismiss them, to accuse them of ignorance and xenophobia and to denigrate their decision. I need to make some new friends. I need to hear some different opinions and some new voices. I need to burst my complacent bubble and really learn who is my neighbour.

As people who claim to follow Jesus, we may need to be friends with people who cannot yet be friends with one another, messengers of peace to people who do not yet speak to one another and agents of God’s love to people who have been hurt by one another. God is our judge but God is also our stregnth, our hope and our redeemer. God can burst our bubbles and Jesus shows us how – loving and listening, building a diverse bunch of followers into a close-knit group of friends, challenging without rejecting and constantly refusing to take the easy route of hatred, violence, contempt and disdain.

 

 

 

 

Five minutes ago I walked into the house. Its ten to ten at night and my youngest son shouts from his bedroom – there are samosas on the table. And there are.  Crispy vegetarian samosas – one for each member of the family – and they are still hot.

These samosas, along with all sorts of other delicious meals and snacks, have been arriving in Ramadan most days for the last 10 years or so. They are cooked by my neighbour who began her fast today. In the last few years we have shared much more than food over the fence – we talk about prayer, parenting, how faith affects our daily life and weather, washing and children.

As an interfaith worker, I am invited to join my friends as they break their fast in mosques and restaurants, in community centres and banqueting suites. I go as often as I can and I have learnt from this hospitality to invite my friends to come with me to church at Christmas or Easter.

Last year, at St Peter’s Hall Green, where I am a curate, we decided to offer hospitality in our church building and we were delighted that about 80 people came together to break the fast – sharing an Iftaar meal.  This year we are accepting the hospitality of a local community centre and working with them to offer hospitality to some of the people living in Birmingham who are refugees from Syria and to women who do not come from Muslim families, but have converted (reverted) to Islam and often break the fast alone.

As a church we are learning about the dimensions of both offering and receiving as we explore hospitality together and learn how to build bridges with our neighbours from different faith communities.

For me, the hospitality of being both a guest and host is at the heart of the Gospel.  Jesus knew how to be a good guest – I would have loved him to be at my wedding when the wine ran out – and a great host, washing the feet of his tired and dusty guests. The hospitality of God offers us fullness of life on earth and the promise of eternal life. The Holy Spirit built community at Pentecost that broke through cultural and ethnic divides and continues to draw people together both inside and outside the church.

Hospitality turns the stranger into a friend; it opens the door to reconciliation and urges us to see the world through the eyes of another.  It might start with a samosa but it could end by opening our hearts, minds and spirits to love our neighbour as our self.

This blog was written  on Monday (6th JUne) for the Church Of England blog  http://cofecomms.tumblr.com/