Show Tranzsend 'Handful of Rice' DVD.
Read: Luke 12: 15-31

I talked recently on the idea that 'nothing I have is truly mine', and how I hoped that global recession would help people to have conversations about the unexamined assumptions that our economy is based on. Since then I have heard some commentators analysing the way that greed has fuelled the economic behaviour of the West. But I'm still not hearing much in the mainstream press that radically questions the mantra of economic growth. I'm not an economist, so I can't propose an alternative economic model. But I am going to identify an alternative principle, a Jesus principle, that is directly at odds with this notion that all growth is good growth.

We have heard the words of Jesus this morning. He tells a made-up story, a parable, about a man whose land produced abundantly. The abundance was actually a problem, because he couldn't physically store away everything he had produced. His solution? To build bigger barns, so he could hoard his abundance, and live a life of leisure and relaxation. God calls the man a fool. Clearly, hoarding is not in the Jesus scheme of things.

It seems to me that the 'bigger barns' idea governs most of our financial thinking in the West. Whether the barns are bank accounts, or investment portfolios, or numbers of houses owned, or quantities of consumer goods... on a personal, national and global scale, there seems to be this assumption that we should always trend toward 'more', rather than 'enough', or, heaven forbid, 'less.'
And that our work, rather than being sustainable labour that contributes to our dignity, and sustenance and the good of the world, is instead something we do to get wealthy enough not to work any more, so that then we can live for pleasure, leisure and luxury. This is all deeply at odds with Jesus' teaching.

What would it look like instead, if all our personal and national economic decisions were based, not on the question, 'how much can I get', but the question 'what can I give'? What if everything we earned or received were subject to a basic principle of flowing back out, rather than storing up? And if that flow were not the flow of spending, to create more wealth, and grow the economy, or another person's bank balance, but the flow of giving, no strings attached. I'm not suggesting that we do away with buying and selling and trading altogether. Just imagining what it might look like if giving were at the core of our transactions, and buying and selling at the fringe, rather than the other way round.

I've talked about the idea of 'kenosis' in the past - it's the word used in Philippians chapter 2, where Paul celebrates Jesus' 'emptying' of himself in giving up his claim to equality with God, and being born as a human. Paul says, 'let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus'. That is, learn not to cling to all you could have or should be, but let go, empty yourself. Because it's this self-giving, this flow out and down, that puts in motion the up-swing of union and communion with God.

What is the difference, between a life based on this principle of kenosis, and the kind of giving or volunteering that happens with our excess...with our spare money or spare time? The difference is that when we give with what we have left over after we have covered all the bases for ourselves, it costs us nothing, and nothing is at stake. It feels good and it is good, but it's not really kenosis. With kenosis, giving kicks in right at the start, at the point where we are deciding what we really need, in full consciousness of what others also need. I will say more about this next week, when I'll be talking on the topic of sacrifice.

The question that usually arises when we start to contemplate a radically open-handed, generous approach to life is 'but who is watching my back?' I need to store up, because I need to be prepared for a time of potential need in my future. In the passage from Luke's gospel that I read from earlier, Jesus seems to anticipate this question. He goes straight from the parable about the large barns, to the comfort of words like 'do not worry', and 'consider the lilies.'

The basis for our giving is that our God, and therefore the source and ground of all existence, is a giving God. All that we have, including this air we breathe and the life in our bodies, is God's gift to us. Does it not make sense that our relationships with each other as humans should also be based first on giving, before any other transaction gets a look in?

What if the reality of the universe is not that we're on our own and we have to be in it for ourselves and what we can get, but that there is a God who comes alongside us as we commit to generosity, and who is at the heart of the flow of giving and receiving that provides us with all we need?

Recently I was talking to someone who referred to this idea by the metaphor of 'friendly skies.' That is, in our inner world, we can live either as though this world is a hostile and competitive place, with no grace, and no God.
Or we can live as though the skies are 'friendly' - that there is a benevolence that is beyond us, that is concerned for our good. It makes a great difference to how we live if we truly believe that we are not alone in the world. It frees us up to give, and make risky choices, and to pursue life without too great a concern for self-protection. Does that mean that we will never go without? Possibly not. Does it mean that we will go through life without experiencing trauma and loss? Probably not. But if the truth of our lives is that we are held in God, then personal hardship is not the end of the story. And when we give, a dynamic is set in motion that time and again seems to fold back into receiving, so that we can give again.

'Give,' says Jesus, 'and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap.' (Luke 6. 38)

I was struck recently by that familiar bible verse from Ephesians: 'Thieves must give up stealing; rather let them labour and work honestly with their own hands, so as to have something to share with the needy.' (4.28) The thing that struck me was the last part. This text is not just encouraging people to work instead of stealing. It's saying that the reason for working is so that there is something to share with those who cannot work, or whose work does not provide a living...the needy. The purpose and dignity of work is on one hand to prevent the socially damaging act of theft, but also to enable us to give.

Sometimes it is hard to accept the idea of a benevolent flow of giving and receiving as the basic reality of God and God's world, because of the reality of desperate poverty. How are the 'friendly skies' working for the poor? I don't have a ready answer to that. Maybe it's that our greed is breaking the cycle, disrupting the flow - even for the lilies and the ravens, whose habitats we destroy with our desire for more... When some, the affluent, choose to hoard rather than release our abundance into the world, when we use and over-use other people's resources to shore up our own affluence, maybe we stick a spanner in the mechanism of giving and receiving. It's a fragile balance, and ecosystem of spirit, that greed destroys.

But even - or maybe especially - in parts of the world where people have what we consider to be nothing, this principle of giving is at work, binding communities together. A gentleman from Tripura apparently made this observation on a visit to New Zealand: "It is easy for us to give - we have so little it doesn't matter. But for you, you have so much you will know what you are missing."

The video we saw a few minutes ago was filmed in Tripura. In an environment where the women measure out a daily rice allowance of four cups for a family, they also remove a portion of that allowance to give to others, and then they dip into their store to give some more.

What I like about this example is how physical and regular the giving is. Daily, they give with their hands, and they pray as they do so. What comparable kinds of giving do we have in our culture? AP's are fantastic. Cityside relies on them, as do many other charitable organisations. But there's something about tangible giving that's important too. I have been delighted and blessed to discover that in becoming a parent, I have become part of a flow of maternity clothing, nappies, children's clothes and equipment, that are handed on from family to family. It's a wonderful way of avoiding spending huge money on things that only serve a purpose for a few months.

And I'm honoured to say that in this Cityside community there is a spirit of giving that is alive and well, and I'm grateful to be on the receiving end of that from time to time. I challenge all of us to think of ways that we can deepen our habit of giving, to the point where it is our core practice with everything we have - our food, our skills, our income, our time, and our stuff.

This sermon is not a prelude to asking you to give more to Cityside. But this week marks the first week of our Tranzsend appeal - giving to Baptist mission work in the world. If you do want to contribute to this appeal, you can do so by putting a donation in the box beside the Cityside offering jar, or by turning up to the movie fundraiser that's in the newsletter, a joint event with Ponsonby Baptist Church.

To finish, here is a prayer that Andrew wrote many years ago to go with our offering collection. Those of you who wish to, let's pray it together.

Prayer for the offering

"Lord, You give to us out of your abundance
We give to you out of our caution
Sometimes we give to you
With a big impulse
From a small heart

What we have
We release to you
To use beyond what our caution
Or even the bigness of our hearts
Might otherwise allow."

(Andrew Rockell)