This is my response to Sunday’s excellent service in which David Pargeter explored what it might mean to take the injunction of Matthew 25 seriously:
37 “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink?
38 When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you?
39 When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’
40 “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’
New International version
When the heater fails
When the heater fails the cold has its way,
Not that icy cold from frigid winds,
But that penetrating cold, stiffening the limbs.
I sought refuge in a public place
The warm city train, the barber shop
The rattling tram in Melbourne’s haste.
Yet this is not cold as coldness goes
This is but the weather, as it freezes the toes.
Cold is that rigid glance
The innocuous grin, the churlish smile
The turning away, of being aloof
When my advances are dashed
And I turn from the truth.
Cold is the stranger, broken, alone,
Dismissed by the crowd
With heart like a stone.
The public glare makes the pain so deep
For one simply forced to sleep on the street.
Cold is the welcome given to those
Who arrive on our doorstep
From other shores
Their wait is non-ending through draconian law,
A blight on our mateship, a product of fear
They struggle for justice, when love is no more.
So how will I cope with this winter’s cold
That winter’s chill where wet turns to mould.
Will I rug myself up and hide away
Or open myself to face a new day?
Will I think of others, less fortunate than I
Or close my eyes and pass on by?
19 June 2018