Sermon: Trinity 5 | 20 July 2025

Preacher:

Bob Cooper

Date:

Sunday 20th July 2025

Venue:

Guildford Cathedral

Service:

6pm Choral Evensong

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

I've been thinking a lot lately about what it means to truly see each other - not just glance at one another as we pass by, but really see the person standing before us. Our readings this evening invite us into that kind of seeing, especially when it comes to hunger and poverty.

In Genesis tonight, we meet Joseph - not just as a dream interpreter, but as someone who understood that God's heart breaks for every empty stomach, every worried parent, every child who goes to bed hungry. And Paul, writing to the Corinthians, shows us what it looks like to live as if other people's wellbeing matters as much as our own.

Think about Joseph for a moment. Here's a man who could have used his position to secure his own future, to make sure he and his family were set for life. Instead, when he interprets Pharaoh's dreams about seven years of plenty followed by seven years of famine, he doesn't just predict what's coming - he feels the weight of what it will mean for ordinary people.

Joseph's plan is beautifully simple: during the good years, gather up the surplus. Store it. Then, when the hard years come - and they will come - there's enough for everyone. It's not about hoarding or creating dependency. It's about recognizing that we're all in this together.

Paul takes us somewhere equally challenging. He's writing to a church that's been caught up in status and impressive speeches. Paul cuts through all of that by describing his own life: "We hunger and thirst. We are poorly clothed and beaten and homeless." But Paul isn't complaining - he's explaining what love looks like, what it means to follow Jesus.

Let me tell you about something that happened last month at one of our local food banks. There was a mum named Sarah who'd been coming regularly with her two young children. Sarah worked incredibly hard - cleaning offices before dawn, stacking shelves after her kids went to bed - but the domestic maths just didn't work.

One Tuesday, Sarah came in with her six-year-old daughter Emma. As they were packing up their weekly provisions, Emma looked up at her mum and said, "Mummy, can we have the nice biscuits this week? The ones from the shop?"

Sarah's face went red, but she knelt down to Emma's level and said so gently, "These are perfectly good biscuits, darling. We're grateful for what we have."

What broke the volunteer's heart wasn't just seeing a family struggle - it was watching Emma learn to lower her expectations. At six years old, Emma was already accepting that some people get "the nice biscuits from the shop" and others make do with less.

But what if Emma is wrong? What if this isn't just how the world has to work?

Right now, there are children all over our community learning that scarcity is normal, that inequality is just the way things are. They're learning not to dream too big, not to expect too much.

As people of faith, we're called to see that situation and say, "This isn't right. This isn't what God wants for any of his children." We're called to be agents of hope in a world that too often teaches children to expect less.

When we pray "Give us this day our daily bread," we're not just asking God to drop loaves from heaven. We're asking to be part of ensuring that everyone has their daily bread. We're asking to be God's hands and feet in making that prayer a reality.

There's a difference between charity and justice, and both matter. Charity feeds Emma's family this week - and thank God for that. But justice asks why Emma's mum, working two jobs, can't afford to buy basic groceries. Justice looks at the systems that create need in the first place.

Joseph's response was both charitable and just. He didn't just plan to hand out food during the famine; he created a system that would prevent mass starvation. He thought beyond the immediate crisis to the structures that could ensure everyone's survival.

The Swiss theologian Hans Küng wrote that no religion can remain credible if it ignores the suffering of the poor. I think he was right. Faith that doesn't wrestle with questions of justice, that doesn't ask why some have so much while others have so little, isn't really faith at all. It's just sentiment.

Both Joseph and Paul point us toward something radical: a world where resources are shared rather than hoarded, where everyone has enough, where children like Emma don't have to learn that "nice biscuits" aren't for them.

This isn't naive idealism - it's practical discipleship. The early church made sure no one was in need. Throughout history, Christian communities have demonstrated that alternative economic models are possible.

So what does this mean for us? First, it means taking an honest look at our own relationship with money and possessions. Are we storing up resources thoughtfully, like Joseph advised? Are we living simply enough that we can share generously?

Second, it means supporting efforts to address hunger and poverty at their roots. This might look like supporting fair trade, advocating for policies that address climate change, or joining campaigns for economic justice.

The vision our readings give us tonight is ultimately about God's kingdom - a place where justice and peace embrace, where there's enough for everyone. But this isn't just a distant hope. It's a present calling.

Every time we choose generosity over accumulation, every time we advocate for justice rather than simply accepting inequality, every time we see someone like Emma or Sarah and respond with both immediate help and systemic change - we're participating in God's kingdom breaking into our world.

As we prepare to leave this place tonight, we carry with us both comfort and challenge. We're comforted by God's love and equally challenged by God's justice. We're called to extend radical hospitality to our neighbours, to ensure that children like Emma don't have to learn that scarcity is normal.

Hans Küng reminded us that there will be no peace among the nations without peace among the religions, and no peace among the religions without dialogue between them. Perhaps we might add: there will be no peace in our world without justice for the poor, and no justice for the poor without faithful people willing to share what they've been given.

May we leave this place commissioned to be instruments of God's justice and mercy in a world that desperately needs both. May we be people who, like Joseph, plan wisely for everyone's welfare, and who, like Paul, choose solidarity with the struggling.

May we be people who help children like Emma learn that the world is bigger and more generous than it sometimes seems, that nice biscuits - and so much more - are meant for everyone. Amen.