Sun 14 June 'Blessed are... the refugees'

Monday marks the beginning of ‘Refugee Week’ – and certainly, it’s a theme that is more relevant than ever, especially after the events in Northern Ireland and Scotland over this last week.

Nicola Brady, the General Secretary of Churches Together in Britain and Ireland writes: 

'It is an ancient tradition across the world that holy places are considered places of sanctuary for those at risk of persecution. In the Christian faith this principle is enshrined in Scripture and given powerful expression in the ministry of Christ and the disciples of the early Church, who sought hospitality as they journeyed to share the Good News in dangerous times.'

Mindful of that, and mindful that we as God’s people are people with God’s good news to share, so we spend time this week in worship thinking about radical welcome and hospitality.

Bible passage for the week: Luke 6:17-31 
¹⁷ He came down with them and stood on a level place, with a great crowd of his disciples and a great multitude of people from all Judea, Jerusalem, and the coast of Tyre and Sidon. ¹⁸ They had come to hear him and to be healed of their diseases; and those who were troubled with unclean spirits were cured. ¹⁹ And all in the crowd were trying to touch him, for power came out from him and healed all of them. ²⁰ Then he looked up at his disciples and said:
‘Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.
²¹ ‘Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled.
‘Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. 
²² ‘Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. ²³ Rejoice on that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets.  
²⁴ ‘But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. 
²⁵ ‘Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry.
‘Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep.  
²⁶ ‘Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets. 
²⁷ ‘But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, ²⁸ bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. ²⁹ If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. ³⁰ Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. ³¹ Do to others as you would have them do to you.

Reflection

Most of you will have heard of the Sermon on the Mount which is found in Matthew chapter 5.

And, listening to our gospel reading this morning, many of the words that Jesus was saying sound oddly familiar. The passage from Luke, however, is referred to by biblical scholars as the ‘Sermon on the plain’ – no ‘mount’ here:

no standing 6 feet above contradiction in this passage.

Echoing last week’s theme, ‘on the level’ and not standing above, continues the theme of Jesus as the one who breaks down hierarchies, for all of us are equal in God’s eyes.

And the language we use to describe one another – our fellow human beings –
is important, because words matter.

Yes, we all know that old Victorian rhyme:

‘Sticks and stones will break my bones but names will never hurt me.’

But hurt is not just about physical scars and bruising:

words matter, for words can wound the heart, the mind, our very souls –

the sense of who we are,

our sense of worth,

our sense of belonging,

of being welcome, included.

Over the last years – in the lead up to Brexit, and beyond –

there have been a lot of words, a lot of headlines, a lot of news items and interviews with various people all ready to give their particular 'hot take' on the matter of one word which has become a portmanteau word:

a catch all that has quite a few layers of meaning within it and which gets bandied about without dealing with the nuances that it contains.

That word:

immigrants.

It's become a short-hand, catch all word that, in some quarters, just means ‘foreigners’,

and within those particular quarters are people who willingly spout racist rhetoric and attack people both verbally and physically. However, there is a vast difference between an immigrant who willingly chooses to come to this country to settle and work, and between an asylum seeker forced by extreme circumstances to seek refuge, and the refugee:

the asylum seeker who has been given refuge.

Under international Law, every human being on the planet has the right to seek asylum:

let’s be clear – there is no such thing as an ‘illegal’ human being.

This week is ‘Refugee Week’ and the key theme for the week is ‘courage’.

It’s estimated that, globally, there are currently around 43 million refugees, almost half of which are children. These are people who have been through horrors that we can scarcely imagine. 

They have been forced from their homes by conflict, persecution, disasters such as floods and drought, and extreme poverty. Many will have been separated from loved ones; many will be traumatised and grieving. For refugees around the world, courage is often a daily necessity. 

It is the courage to face unknown journeys, learn new languages, navigate unfamiliar systems, or simply to wake up each morning and step into an uncertain world.

Those who flee see the possibility of “life and prosperity” if they leave, and the threat of “death and adversity” if they stay, and so, they choose life.

Along with the many words, new stories, images of those seeking refuge, we've also been seeing reactions to those fleeing from harm and arriving here in the UK:

in the midst of all the words, there's been a slew of misinformation. Far right groups have wasted no time in galvanising themselves to stir up conflict, spilling over into violence.

We’ve seen the signs, heard the rhetoric and the slogans:

‘stop the boats’.

This last week, we saw the horrors of those who would twist facts and statistics about asylum seekers and refugees in such a way that it divides community. We saw the news coverage coming from Northern Ireland where people were being hunted down, and targeted; where people’s homes were being burnt down: households that had within them little children –

the very ones who Jesus welcomes with open arms…

and then, we saw the naked racism on display in the march in Glasgow on Buchanan St.

Jesus would weep.

It was reassuring, however, to see the number of people out in Glasgow yesterday, protesting against such behaviour.

But what of our text from Luke's gospel?

What is being described is a bold vision of life and community that expresses the values and commitments of God’s reign:

a stunningly countercultural vision of the life of those who follow Jesus, of life and relationship within the realm of God.

The blessings and woes that Jesus outlines, describe a world that reverses almost everything that his disciples – than and now – know of how things work. And if you spend time with these words, it’s hard not to hear in the background the words of Mary, before Jesus was born:

the words we know as ‘the Magificat’ – which I noted earlier in the year was a political manifesto for change, for liberation.

Here is Jesus, pointing to God’s great reversal of the way things are to the way things could and should be:

a world shaped by God and not human mores.

They are promises to those who are suffering in this world that God still sees them, loves them, and is intent on their thriving. Jesus’ words are also warning calls to his hearers that they are called to live with attention and generosity toward their neighbours, even as God is attentive and generous.

This is generally not the way the world operates; it is not a comfortable or safe path to walk. 

We are much more familiar with self-preservation strategies that prioritize our own safety and comfort, 

…perhaps even at the expense of others’ flourishing. 

There is no soft and easy message to proclaim from this text. 

It is the sort of message that could get one crucified by the empire…

And so we come back to that word ‘courage.’

At a time when some seek to divide and blame, Refugee Week 2026 calls us to come together and share the courage to welcome, to stand for what we, as followers of Jesus, believe in, and to celebrate culture and community – to be joyful, imagine new possibilities, dream, heal, and connect.

Courage isn’t always loud or bold. 

It can be found in simple acts: 

opening your door to a neighbour, trying new food, reading a book, or watching a film that changes

your view of the world. It can be speaking up, befriending the stranger – the refugee in your midst.

And, it's also well to remember:

Jesus himself, and his family, were refugees.

On the other side of the story of the birth in the stable, and the joy, and the love, and the good news of God’s kingdom breaking into the world is the story of the King of that land, the tyrant, Herod the Great. Alerted to news of the birth of a baby boy who would reign as king, through the visit of men from the east seeking the child, Herod was determined to find the child and destroy him. That determination led to the slaughter of every male child in Bethlehem under the age of two.

The holy family fled in time, finding refuge in Egypt for a time before eventually coming home –  which is actually the dream of most refugees:

if it was safe to do so, most would return to their homeland in a heartbeat.

Thinking of his escape to Egypt, and thinking of the words to those gathered on the plain – the message today is simply this:

if we cannot have compassion for refugees, we cannot call ourselves Christians. 

If we do not help refugees, we cannot call ourselves the church.
Words matter.

Courage is one.

Compassion is another - compassion, which is at the heart of what Jesus is getting at in our text for today.

As Jesus said:

‘Do to others as you would have them do to you.’

And, in the words of Nadia Bolz Weber, 

‘blessed are the merciful, for they totally get it.’

(n.b. within worship, we showed a clip of Pastor Nadia B-W giving a contemporary feel to the 'blessed are' sayings).

Let’s pray:

God of love and compassion free from borders, 

your presence spans all creation.

In Jesus, you took sanctuary in us; 

and in you, we find our eternal sanctuary.

We behold you in community with those 

uprooted from their homes by war, 

poverty, persecution and extreme weather, 

especially those who make their way 

to these shores on small boats.

Be the shelter of their lives.

Bless their courage and resilience 

in seeking freedom and sanctuary.

Help us to build cultures of welcome, 

hospitality and sanctuary for all:

to build community where there is conflict;

compassion where there is cruelty;

humanity where there is hatred;

hospitality where there is hostility;

And so, to practice and proclaim hope. 

In the Name of Christ, we pray.   Amen

(today's reflection built upon resources provided for Refugee Week from CTBI - Churches Together in Britain and Ireland)

Sun 7 June 'Is the hokey pokey really what it's all about?'

Hello and welcome to our online reflection based on our Sunday morning service of worship.

Welcome is very much the theme today, as we hear of a feast to which Jesus was invited and see just who was ‘in’ and just who was ‘out’....

Notices

Just a couple of notices to flag up:

Tues 9 June, 10:30am funeral of Morag Forrest.  This will be in the church and then followed by her committal across at Roberton Cemetery. 

Please do keep the family in your prayers at this time.

Clydesdale food bank: As this is a communion month, the food bank box is once again in the church vestibule and ready to accept any donations of food and hygiene products – if you’re able to help, that would be very much appreciated.

The box will be uplifted on the last Sunday of the month

and, as ever, thanks in advance.
To help online, please go to this LINK to make a donation.

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Our Gospel reading for the day:

Luke 5:27-39 

After this he went out and saw a tax-collector named Levi, sitting at the tax booth; and he said to him, ‘Follow me.’ ²⁸ And he got up, left everything, and followed him. ²⁹ Then Levi gave a great banquet for him in his house; and there was a large crowd of tax-collectors and others sitting at the table with them. ³⁰ The Pharisees and their scribes were complaining to his  disciples, saying, ‘Why do you eat and drink with tax-collectors and sinners?’ ³¹ Jesus answered, ‘Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick; ³² I have come to call not the righteous but sinners to repentance.’ ³³ Then they said to him, ‘John’s disciples, like the disciples of the Pharisees, frequently fast and pray, but your disciples eat and drink.’ ³⁴ Jesus said to them, ‘You cannot make wedding-guests fast while the bridegroom is with them, can you? ³⁵ The days will come when the bridegroom will be taken away from them, and then they will fast in those days.’ ³⁶ He also told them a parable: ‘No one tears a piece from a new garment and sews it on an old garment; otherwise the new will be torn, and the piece from the new will not match the old. ³⁷ And no one puts new wine into old wineskins; otherwise the new wine will burst the skins and will be spilled, and the skins will be destroyed. ³⁸ But new wine must be put into fresh wineskins. ³⁹ And no one after drinking old wine desires new wine, but says, “The old is good.”’

Reflection

For our time of reflection, one of life's big questions:
What if the hokey pokey really is what it's all about?
'In, out, in, out, shake it all about, you do the hokey pokey and you turn yourself around, that's what it's all about.'...
But is it?
This, as we think about the ‘in’, ‘out’ in relation to our gospel reading for today, in which we see some who think of themselves as the ‘in’ group, and those who they consider are ‘out’. 

So what have we got here in our text?

There’s Levi, who we know more familiarly as ‘Matthew’.

Levi’s a tax collector.

Levi is based in Capernaum – which is loosely being used by Jesus and his disciples as a handy go-to base from which to travel around the surrounding countryside of the Galilee region.

Capernaum is a port town, a trading centre, a busy place.

A useful place for a tax collector to set up his business – 

and, no doubt, Levi’s set up his tax booth so it’s right in the midst of things:

a place where he can easily access those who are obliged to pay tax.

His is a face that would be well known and because of his career, Levi is generally the last person anyone really wants to have dealings with.

In the time, and place, and cultures of the day, there are all sorts of pecking orders, hierarchies.

Levi lives in a land where a foreign power rules – the occupying Romans.

They have their own particular customs, rituals, culture, their own social niceties and levels of status.

Given they’ve taken over the country, the Romans consider themselves at the at the top of the pile:

the ones who are most definitely ‘in’.

And because they view themselves as conquerors, they very much look down on those they’ve conquered and, who they were essentially, oppressing.

Outwith the Romans, there were the Jews, whose land it was, and who had their own particular customs, rituals, culture, and ways of classifying people who to them were either ‘in’ or ’out:

which people were important and which ones weren’t;

who was contributing, and who wasn’t;

who to include and who to avoid at all costs.

Now, if the Romans looked down on the Jews, 

the Jews looked down on those who were not Jewish, those they called ‘gentiles.’

But, whether Jew or Gentile, all of them have to pay their taxes to the Romans.

And, while Levi’s not a Roman, he works for them,

and has built up substantial wealth in doing so.

In the eyes of his own people, the Jews, just because of the nature of his work, Levi’s considered to be of dubious moral character, a collaborator and a traitor.

But there’s more:

because he also spends time with people of all kinds, there are those in the Jewish religious hierarchy who view him as ‘unclean’.

While it’s a cause of upset and offence to the pharisees and the scribes that Jesus both calls Levi to follow, and then accepts a dinner invite, I’d hazard a guess that no one is more surprised than Levi at being asked to hang out with Jesus and his followers. And unlike the followers who were fishermen, Levi just can't simply return to his job should things not work out: there's no Plan B, no going back.  When Jesus invites Levi to come and follow him, well, a little like the hokey pokey, Levi turns himself around – for to repent means just that, to turn from what you’re doing.

In doing so, he discovers that, for the first time in however long it’s been, he’s less a case of being ‘out’:

he’s in.

He belongs.

It’s a cause for celebration.

The sign of his belonging is further seen by Jesus willingly accepting a place at Levi’s table for a feast. To sit at table and share a meal was a sign not only of sharing hospitality, it was a symbol of relationship - you were considered an extension of the family.

Jesus sits with Levi and his friends - those considered completely 'out' by the Scribes and Pharisees - and it completely messes with their whole social, religious, and hierarchical understanding of how the world worked.

Jesus was a rabbi, one who was supposed to know the Law,

Jesus was one of 'them'.

What on earth was he playing at?

Grace.

Simply, grace.

Grace is about God’s gift of life and goodness, of God’s enduring love for humanity.

It reflects his nature to love without limits, to love freely, unconditionally, whether we ‘deserve’ that love, or not.

And so, Jesus reminds the scribes and the pharisees that they are already ‘in’ –

they already know God’s grace.

Jesus doesn’t need to sit and eat with them …

he needs to be with those who feel cast out:

the ones who in so many ways within their lives have never really felt they’ve been included,

who’ve never felt they’ve belonged, 

who’ve never felt that they deserved God’s grace:

the ones who’ve felt that God’s love is not for the likes of them.

Sitting at table, Jesus is showing those gathered at the feast that they are not ‘them’…

not ‘the others’,

but that they are utterly loved and held within God’s grace, just as much as the scribes and the pharisees are – in God’s eyes, there is no ‘them’, only ‘us’.

Last week, we were thinking about God as Trinity:

the three and oneness of God –

and we thought about the concept of Trinity within the framework of relationship:

One God, in perfect community –

bound by love, which unites, not excludes.

God, as a Trinity of love, calling us into a relationship of love –

with God, and with one another.

In a week in which we are invited to come to the table where Jesus is host, this story reminds us that as with Levi, his grace is extended to us, 

for, as with Levi and all those gathered around the table for that particular feast so long ago,

we gather to share in the meal of grace created for all who follow,

and, in doing so, to turn their lives around -

and discover, that in him, as with Levi,

so too, we are welcome,

we are included,

bound together in a relationship of love with him.

Who are the ones we might think of as ‘them’, 

the ones we think of as ‘out’ not ‘in’?

How might we turn ourselves around from that way of thinking, and so extend God’s grace, God’s love?

The story of Levi’s calling, of Jesus breaking bread with him and the company of those considered by some as ‘outcasts’ is a story of profound grace:

about a life turned around.

It’s a story that calls us to rejoice that no one is beyond hope,

no one is beyond God’s love and grace.

And it’s a story that challenges us to share that grace.

May you know the blessing of God's grace, this day and everyday. Amen.

Let's pray:

Gracious God,
In a moment of quiet prayer, we pray for all who are on our minds and in our hearts this day, and bring to you our own particular needs…

Lord, we commit the week ahead to you. 

Shine your light into every situation so that we can see where you are at work and follow your lead. 

Send us out as people of hope to bring your love into every place you lead us.

We offer you these prayers, 

in Jesus’ name, amen.